Ode to Chaco: A Comedy Piece

Here is the story of a ReReReChacho

Once upon a time, a 16-year-old girl named Becca got a pair of Chacos. She wore them sometimes, but did not love them. Not yet. 

For those who might not know: The Chaco is a popular outdoor sandal with adjustable straps that can be used as a hiking, water, or everyday shoe. The ReChaco is a company program to promote repairing your sandals to reduce consumption. The ReReReChaco…. you’ll have to keep reading to learn more.

When she was nearly 18, she learned that camping and rock climbing and the great outdoors existed. Becca in this moment was ready to explore what the natural world had to offer. In this transitional period, her companion of trusty sandals did not disappoint, and was an asset in many endeavors.

The love affair began the summer she turned 19, and living a life without them became unfathomable. As a camp counselor, the key to fitting in and success among her peers was The Chaco Tan. She willingly complied, branding her feet for the summer season with the stripes from her Chacos.

The First Damage: ReChaco

These sandals became a type of emotional support shoe, by her side through the ups and downs of university life and young love; across rivers and up mountains; even on grocery store runs and to lecture halls. All this movement had worn down the shoes until the traction was nonexistent. A rehabilitation program, formally known as ReChaco, was insisted upon by her mother: “I worry about you and those shoes!” Upon their return in tip-top shape, there were no complaints, other than a color change of the soles from pink to grey, which she quickly overcame.

In the 22nd year of Becca’s life, the sandals became an obsession. She wouldn’t leave on a trip, no matter how short, without them: they were in her bag or on her feet. When her international travels began, it was no use questioning what place they would take. It did not matter that they were starting to fall apart, for she was not a superficial type of girl. Beauty is irrelevant: do they take me places? Am I comfortable? Are they the same shoes I have worn since my youth?

As she neared 24 years, the damage was making itself known with tears in the fabric and foul smell for lack of care. Although she cared deeply for them, it was hard to transfer her intangible love to the upkeep needed to maintain their condition. She began to accept that all good things must come to an end, extending the philosophy even to her most cherished belonging. 

But when the day finally came, while volunteering in Albania, still she was unprepared. It happened so quickly… a strap had slipped out and made them unwearable for long distances. She didn’t think it would end this way! The stages of grief were beginning.

She did what any sane person would do in this situation, she found a new sandal. Their name, I will whisper here, is “crocs.” She must have a thing for names with “C.” They got the job done well enough, and the broken Chacos sat tucked away, laid to rest but not forgotten. 

After a few weeks and much contemplation, she decided to attempt to revive the old shoes. It was hard to get along with the Crocs, especially when this pair lacked sport mode (it was kind of a deal breaker). 

Thus begins the Re-ReChaco:

1. Search: Find a local shoe repairman in town
2. Fix: Glue the strap back in. She gave the repairman an apple in exchange for his efforts when he denied her money. She was ecstatic to have her sandals back
3. Break: the strap popped out again. She should have known. They “were a changed pair,” and she naively believed it

The Re-Re-ReChacho

On her first afternoon in North Macedonia, Becca dedicates herself fully to the Re-Re-ReChaco. She walks, broken Chaco in hand, consulting with locals who direct her and redirect her to someone who might have the witchcraft to perform the revival. All good things take time, and she is in no rush.

Finally, a knowledgeable soul sends her in the direction of a leather shop with a small workspace. This is promising. He asks if she speaks German; she asks if he speaks Italian. She explains the failure of the re-rechaco glue experiment. “Machine,” he responds with special sound effects and hand gestures. If anyone is able to bring them back, it’s him. “Come back tomorrow at 17:00.”

Since the last fix was performed free of charge, she thought nothing of the lack of a guaranteed price in the exchange. But as 17:00 the following day approached, she questioned her ways. What if he holds her beloved hostage because she can’t pay the amount he requests for the job?

The kind man who owns the hostel she stays at, Alexander, offers a solution. If the shoemaker tries to scam her, she can give him a reasonable portion and tell him “tomorrow my Macedonian friend Alexander will come back with the rest.” Armed with options, she sets off for the retrieval. 

After greeting the handyman with the local word for hello, she selects her shoe from the lineup. Multiple different shoes fall off the crowded shelf in the next moments, and they share a laugh as she picks them up and begins inspecting the work. She is satisfied, and he charges her the equivalent of $2.50. Although it is likely overpriced for the simple stitching, she doesn’t mind— she is more focused on the bright future that awaits her favorite shoes.

They’re back, baby!!!! End scene.

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Author’s note: In the text above there are a few fictional additions for dramatic effect. Most notably, it’s not fair to say the Chacos are Becca’s favorite or most important possession. There is also the Life is Good hat. If you enjoyed “Ode to Chaco,” let Becca know and consider donating to the Chaco fund (all proceedings will go to Becca’s new Chacos).

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Welcome to Fruit of the Journey, the blog about Becca’s life, etc etc etc 😉

• Autumn Quest: Exploring my Heritage
• Ode to Chaco: A Comedy Piece