my austrian (flip) flop

In some states, summer has arrived. (Not in my state, but in some states.) And people who live there get to wear things like sundresses and flip flops. (I, on the other hand, am currently wearing jeans, boots, and a sweater.) But I’ll be the bigger person here and write for the warm-weather crowd.

When I was a kid, flip-flops were called thongs (a far cry from the thongs of today)…and they were rubber…and they always caused a blister to form between my toes. But I got older, and the thongs (which became known as “flip flops”) got fancier; this was especially true of one particular pair I bought in Greece on a post-high-school-graduation bus/camping tour of Europe. Pricey they weren’t (I was a bargain hunter even back then), but they were leather, gold, and gorgeous — covered with sparkly little rhinestones that dressed them up a bit. I wore them all over Europe.   

About three weeks into the tour, our bus pulled up next to an uber-quaint Austrian hotel in the Tyrolean town of Ellmau. There, we were checked into the main guest house, with spillover lodging in another building – it was, if memory serves, separated by trees, a small road, and a bubbling creek. After hanging out in guesthouse-number-two late into the night (and having drank copious amounts of beer, as many high-school graduates visiting Europe are inclined to do), I began making my way back to the main lodge.

Our "gasthaus," nestled in the Austrian Alps....

Please note single light above doorway.

Knowing full well that the US Customs declaration would ask: Have you been on a farm? Have you stood knee-deep in cow poop?, I decided to leave my crappy sandals behind. I’ve been on a hunt for a rival pair ever since.

Happily I think I finally found some….

So that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Or rather, it stuck to me. (By the way, that was nothing compared to the day I was pee’d on by a tiger…which I will appropriately save for my next animal-print bargain story.)