Barefoot travel crisis (Rousse)

After taxi dropped me off at the airport, I found a quiet spot by the entrance where I could sort out my belongings. I had my cashmere Tweed jacket (even though it was summer), my passport, and my purse. But where were my shoes? I knew that I would not be granted access to the plane barefoot.

I had two options: to buy a pair of shoes in one of the airport shops (expensive) or beg a pair from a stranger (no cost, if I was lucky). I targetted the National Library of Scotland for my begging, and walked into a large open plan office that housed cataloguers. Although the workers offered sympathy for my plight, none was willing to give their footwear to me.

In the end, on the road I found a pair of white leather Jesus sandals that just fitted me. These would have to do.

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