A few years back, I had to live alone in San Francisco for a while. The thought of moving was daunting—I didn’t even know where to begin. What to do with my home while I was away, what about utilities like electricity, gas, internet, and phone, and which of my countless belongings should I take? Having only visited the city briefly before, I had no clue where to find a place to live. I felt lost and wanted to run away. I’d never even lived in a dorm before. 😅
I felt like I should do something, but ended up doing nothing and just found myself counting down to the departure day. With my hastily packed clothes, I arrived at San Francisco airport and realized I was truly alone on the other side of the world. Stepping outside, the sky looked like it might rain any second, and soon enough, it did. As I dodged the raindrops among people who walked unfazed, I whispered to myself,
I have to survive on my own.
But the following weeks were a testament to how little I was. What had I learned in life so far? My knack for solving math problems didn’t help me find a home or establish a life. San Francisco, with its high housing demand, was not an easy place to find a nice home, and as my hotel reservation neared its end, I still hadn’t secured a place. On the last day of my reservation, I extended my stay and, feeling down, headed out to visit more open houses. After one such visit, I found myself wandering past a large discount store.
Without a home, I had no reason to buy anything, but having seen all the houses for the day and with nothing else to do, I decided to browse the store. Fashion items were piled high on each floor, and though I can’t recall why I was drawn to the shoe section, maybe it was the endless walking that made me crave comfortable shoes. Or perhaps it was the big sale sign? Whatever the reason, I spent a whopping three hours—like a servant searching for Cinderella’s glass slipper—finding the perfect pair.
I tried them on, walked around, admired their style, and read the product description carefully. I meticulously examined the seams and stitching. I’d never been this careful choosing shoes before, and probably won’t be again. After much deliberation, I held a pair of men’s brown boat shoes that fit like a pen cap on my feet.💼
Even though I bought more shoes later, I wore those shoes exclusively until the day I left. I explored the rainy, sunny, and foggy streets of San Francisco wearing them. Even after returning to Seoul, I left them by the door and wore them occasionally. Whenever Seoul’s hectic life overwhelmed me, those shoes were like ‘Midnight in Paris’s old Peugeot, taking me back to San Francisco’s many corners. To Pacific Heights blanketed in midnight fog, to the Starbucks in the rain-soaked Presidio, or to the endless tiled steps of 16th Avenue… And then, I could linger in the memories of standing alone, ready to energize myself once again. 💪
Recently, while organizing the shoe rack and picking out shoes to discard, those boat shoes caught my eye. They looked much older than other shoes I planned to toss, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick them up. They seemed to look up at me like a seasoned sergeant who’d been through a long war with me or a sherpa who’d conquered many obstacles on a treacherous Siberian climb. As if seriously saying, ‘I’ve done my job.’ And so, I couldn’t throw them away. They’re the only ones that shared those memories with me. Plus, who knows when I’ll get tired of this life here again? 🌍
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