Jute With Canvas

When complicated laces and straps squeeze your ankles, when plastic soles make your feet sweaty and slippery, when impossible heels scrunch your toes forward, when buckles leave an undesirable jail cell tattoo, when your toes can’t hold the flip flop action any longer, Lord help us all.  It's time to switch to something simple, yet flattering (is this not the most important part of dressing? If not, what is the meaning of it all?)

Introducing the wonderful and rudimentary alpargatas-simple jute-soled canvas sandals, or espadrilles, to borrow from the French.  Now most of them have vulcanized rubber soles for added durability, but I still remember the old ones. One step in a puddle and they looked like a ruffled scarecrow and smelled like a wet dog. From that experience one learned not to wash - ever - the espadrilles, but to rather attempt to clean the canvas with a wet cloth or a brush.

Nowadays the traditional Spanish espadrilles makers have modernized with contemporary designs, while keeping the fundamental materials intact. Castañer (outrageously expensive, by the way), Toni Pons, the new-comer Kameleonik, Mas que lunares, the luxury Spanish brand Loewe, the not-so Mustang, Iata (their "Copete" model are great for men), Mint & Rose, Seven2four, even Zara, of course…

Castañer

Castañer

Castañer

Toni Pons

Loewe

Mustang

Iata, "Copete"

Mint & Rose

Seven2four

Seven2four

Zara

Zara

Every little country store will have the omnipresent regional espadrilles–always the cheapest option- the one solid color or the navy stripped canvas. The plain ones are easy to cover, if you don’t like the color or want something a little more varied, with your favorite fabric. Or you can always paint them or even customize them further by adding bottons, laces, charms or pailletes, or ironing on a fun sticky-patch. It's pretty easy, even for a novice shoe-hacker.

I have a few pairs of alpargatas, but my favorite by far are two simple lace-up pairs by Toni Pons –one black, one tan- that have a very particular shape of wedge. For some reason I am attracted to slightly curved wedges and discard all of the rest. Straight is just too straight for me. Just yesterday on the other side of the border –that is the French- Spanish one-I bought my next big thing, a pair of fantastic, monstrous wedge pumps. Nine centimeters of natural jute, my perfect height. And guess what?  They're “made in Spain”.

On top of my summer reading,
 after the two bricks on Cromwell, the third one
"A Place of Greater Safety" by Hilary Mantel

Ostrich or Dolphin?

To celebrate the start of the summer I participated in my first aquathlon. It is a race that combines running and swimming, normally on the sea or the mouth of a river. This one I had targeted some time ago, slated to be held on a beautiful, compact trail and a calm open sea.  I knew I could do the distance (2,5km running- 1km swimming- 2,5 km running) but started to doubt myself after a few serious sports enthusiasts kind of said “really?” in a high-brow, amused way. I was a swimmer - I swam a whole lot during my school years, that is -before I became a runner and thought that I had to try.  Even so, as the date approached I almost ran out of time to get inscribed, so numerous were my doubts. I think that what discouraged me was the fact that it was a real race for semi-professional triathletes, that the maximum number of participants was only 150 (not much room to go incognito) and that I was all by myself, no friend to share the logical fears of a novice. So likely to be the last one to cross the finish line… I just hoped that there would be no time limit and that I wouldn’t have to be picked up by the coche escoba (literally “street sweeper”, in this case the vehicle that picks up the stragglers and the dumb ones who have over-estimated their ability).

Plencia's aquathlon: swimming back 

So there I was at the starting line, chatting up the other athletes in their 20s, all looking very pro. They must have thought “who the hell is this character?” A 40-something mother trying to prove to herself that she can finish this thing, that’s who! And the air horn went off and everyone sped ahead, leaving me behind. The trail was uneven and it mixed grass, dirt and railroad ties, so one had to be careful not to trip and lose one’s balance or even worse, sprain an ankle (at which I am a real expert, let me tell you).

So I’m tired after the first round, not yet enough endorphins released to enjoy the pain, but here it comes, the wet part. That’s a total liberation despite the fact that I can’t see nuthin’ but muddy green water and almost get caught on the buoy rope of a nearby boat – signage is not great. The temperature of the water is fantastic and suddenly I’m not tired any more. I could swim double this distance. I’m having to deal with looking up out of the murky water to stay on course while avoiding the boats, and I head towards the wrong bridge pillar, going all the way around it, a lot of wasted effort. So I have to stop and yell at the girl on the paddle board to tell me where in the water is the the correct turn-around point. Apparently I had swum an extra 300 metres which just added to my great feat. Dog!

As per the lack of style, that was a disappointment. I wore my training Speedo bikini which was the only two-piece outfit in the whole competition. Probably because the other participants were serious and all possessed their triathlon suits. Almost everything was black, only broken by the women’s orange swimming caps. So no cool photos this time. 

After the feat. Happy although she can't even smile

I feel like a cross between a sleek, dignified dolphin and a freaked-out ostrich running from a lion. But I did it and it felt fantastic. And I was not the last one to cross the line, in fact I left behind three or four participants and I even saw an athlete WALKING!

This weekend, another swimming in a river (Travesía a nado de la ría de Bilbao, the second oldest race of its type in Spain) and next, who knows, maybe the Alcatraz Challenge in San Francisco!

Swimming in the Bilbao river

Running que te Running

Yes, I know, another running aficionado. What can I say, it has hit me hard. The thing is that I started to run before I was aware of this running craze. Most digital newspapers and magazines now have a running blog. Who would have thought? Cheap and easy to start I might add. No need of complicated gear, buddies, gym fees, just the outdoors, yourself, and some running shoes. I didn’t have ones until last Christmas and I did pretty well, so not even those fancy shoes are necessary (this summer running on the beach barefoot, I say).

Running in the city streets, parks, country roads or trails, there is nothing more liberating than putting in your earbuds and hitting the road. Just listening to your own breathing and footsteps, isolated from the daily routines and preoccupations... If done regularly you not only develop great endurance but get to know yourself a little better. Tons of thoughts or none at all, just your mind and your body.

While deeply immersed in this endorphin-releasing daily routine I decided that I wanted to set up some goals and hence have participated in some races, just to finish them up, competing against myself. It’s my pride-or as Haruki Murakami would say, I’ve never walked, always have run. His book “What I Talk When I Talk About Running” although dispersed and repetitive is somewhat inspiring, for me at least. Writing –or trying to-and achieving my next running goal makes me spend a lot of time in my own company.

There are all kinds of races: city races, popular and family races, good cause races, trail races, fun races, night clubbing races, etc. Women's-only races, yeap, another classic. I have done a few of those, and I have to say they are a lot more stylish. Last weekend I did the Mujeres que corren (running women) event in Bilbao. You know it's all about having a good time when you see a bunch of females wearing great running outfits, bright colors and lots of “matchy -pooh” (according to an English friend of mine, the Spanish style has to do with the superb ability of Spanish women in the realm of color matching, or the matchy-pooh, I call it). Everyone making an effort and decorating their exteriors despite going all red and sweaty. There were pirate tights, flaired shorts, running dresses, fluorescent tanks, bright caps, matching compression tights, “skorts" (a skirt-short deal), fantastic looking running shoes with all kinds of lace combinations, colorful ID rubber bracelets, pony tail elastics, and my favorite, the "Shwings"; two cloth wings that you tie to your shoes, one on each shoe, like Mercury (or Hermes in the Greek version), the messenger of the gods. They make my effort even more epic, I'm such a sucker for mythical stuff. The “Shwings” are cheap and cute but I feel that I will only deserve them when I achieve my next goal, the half marathon. I know how I want mine: golden.

Shwings, ain't they cool?
©The Spanish Style

Pink Mercury wings
© #Mujeres que corren

Just as the Greeks gained power over the Persians in the Marathon battle, running is not so much a victory of the body as a state of mind.  

The colorful organiser, Cristina Mitre

Running by the river

Happy to run, yey

The cheerful group
All photo credits #Mujeres que corren