As mentioned before we were not particularly well organized for this trip. While we were packing the morning of our flight we realized Steve’s sneakers were in his gym bag at the office, so he planned to pick up a new pair in Spain.
After arriving in Granada we met up with our friend Brian, a colleague of Sarah’s from Seattle. We asked him for a recommendation on where to find shoes and he sent us to El Corte Ingles. Good choice, I thought, as that is where I had found my fabulous pumps in Portugal. Anyway, we headed in, with a plan to meet Brian and a couple other of his friends outside the store after we had purchased the shoes.
They had a huge selection (Spaniards love their shoes) and we found several styles that would work. I dusted off what little Spanish I know to talk with the shop girls. I asked for a couple different pairs, but both times she came back empty handed. I finally caught on that a 44 was the largest size they had in both styles. And Steve needed a 46. So, I started looking at the display models for a 45 or 46, and finally found a Nike in a 46. The clerk brought out the mate and they fit! Steve asked ‘do they look OK?’ For probably the only time in our married life I said ‘I don’t care how they look as long as they fit’ and we got in line to pay.
Well – almost an hour after he dropped us off, Brian called my mobile wondering where we were. I explained that we were just now paying. We had found what seemed to be the only pair in his size and would be out soon. ‘Doh, I could have told you that.’ Brian is also taller than 6 foot and knows the difficulty of finding clothes and shoes that fit in Spain.