Akong Tsinellas - An ode to flip-flops

Flip-flops are a way of life here. The typical Filipino footwear, whether it is for a trip to the market, playing in a basketball game, hanging out at home, or walking along the beach, is the flip-flop. In the Philippines, they are not called flip-flops, but either “slippers” (like in Hawaii) or “tsinellas” (pronounced ‘chinillas’), which is the local word. (The word “thong” is not used here, but is that used anywhere now in reference to these shoes? That was what I grew up calling them. Thanks a lot, Sisqo.) I was never a big proponent of flip flops back home. For most of the year, it was impractical, unless you were some Californian import - they tended to wear them in the most ridiculous temperatures. Also, growing up, I detested the feeling of something between my toes. As a result, I never really got into flip flops until the later years of college when I discovered the joy of Reef sandals, and even then, only on the most pleasant of days that didn’t require too much walking.

However, since coming here, my feet have toughened up and I have become a flip-flop fanatic. I wear them almost all the time, even when cultural or professional standards probably dictate that I shouldn’t. For instance, at work, in meetings with Peace Corps officials, and on national television. While I subscribe to the theory that, in the absence of proper dress shoes, flip-flops better complete an outfit of khaki pants and a dress shirt than a pair of athletic shoes, that is not the common feeling here. Not that I don’t have dress shoes, but really, who wants to wear them in this heat? So I persist, hoping that I’ll get away with it and not offend anybody, and that my reputation will not take too slobby of a hit.

I came here with one pair of flip-flops, and have since purchased three pairs (actually four, the fourth pair bought in a pinch when another pair was causing unbearable pain, but I’ve since given them away because they were comically small on me). It would give me great happiness to describe my tsinellas to you, and so I will:

The Old Trusty Reefs

These were a graduation gift, and they are over one and a half years old. They saw their debut in Europe and have traveled many miles since. They’re showing their wear, most of which was obtained through almost daily use since arriving in the Philippines. Letters are falling off, some of the material is coming off, I’ve had to sew one of the “thong” parts back together, and I need to sew the other one soon. These shoes feature a bottle opener on the bottom, which is kind of a gross idea to begin with, but is always a novelty conversation item (I once amazed a group of Australians with this trick in Berlin). But now, I’ve knowingly stepped in far too many foreign substances (read: different kinds of animal poo) to ever use this feature again. Still, they are my favorites, the sturdiest, and the most comfortable. I could probably only replace them with a newer version of themselves.

The Spartan Greens

These are the standard flip-flops that most Filipinos wear. Cheap, plain, and practical, and fittingly, the brand name is Spartan. I purchased them on one of my first days at my original host family, at the small market in town, for wearing in the house and the bathroom. They are size 11, and while my whole foot fits on them, they’re not as big as I would like, so I continue to use them as house slippers.

The Brazil “Havaianas”

Anybody who has read this far on an inane post about flip-flops is likely to know what Havaianas are – the wildly popular, relatively cheap brand that usually has a little Brazilian flag on the above-foot part (does anybody know what that’s called? Writing this post has made me realize my lack of knowledge on flip-flop terminology). These are often imitated here – as "Havanas", or Havaianas - just not the real thing, probably - like mine. I purchased these shortly after moving to my current house, because I wanted to keep the plain green ones for my room, and I wanted another pair to wear while puttering around between my room and the main house. They’re still too small for me (size 11), but they’re very comfortable anyway, so I mostly wear them when I’m at home. The bottom used to be all green except for the yellow diamond of the Brazilian flag, but I played basketball in them one time, and the green wore away into the funny footprint design you see today.

The Red Benches

I got these ones most recently, partially to provide relief to my sometimes-smelly Reefs, and partially because they were a legit size 12, which is very hard to come by here. They’re from Bench, which is like the Philippine version of the Gap, and are sturdier than the previous, cheaper two. I wore them a lot when I first bought them, but they pick up dirt very easily and no longer look as fashionable, so it’s harder for me to get away with wearing them to work, etc., and I usually wear my Brazils around the house. For now, they’re riding the pine while I try to find a way to work them into the rotation. (Get it? ‘Bench’ed! Hah!)