I have many, many theories about Brazil and Brazilians, some of them vaguely funny (to me, at least), most of them probably way off-base, and all of them born out of random observations because this is what I do when I travel—I watch people, explore places and try to figure out trends, patterns, and behaviours.

Well, I’m pretty sure that Christian Louboutin has no future in Brazil.

And I wouldn’t bet on successful careers for Latin America-style shoe shiners either.

No market for fancy shoes, no fancy shoes to shine.

Except in São Paulo, where Paulistas tend to wear serious-looking footwear, i.e., closed shoes, most Brazilians seem to live in chinelos (flip-flops) and take them off as soon as they get the chance, as if even the barest form of rubber between them and the ground was an inconvenience.

I don’t typically walk barefoot (my gringa side), but I do live in chinelos (my Brazilian side). They are awesome for going to the beach (no sand in your shoes!) and dealing with tropical downpours (no soaked shoes that take forever to dry!). In Brazil, they are also apparently excellent for hiking hills, climbing rocks, ride motorbikes—only attempt these activities if you have a CPF and many years of experience as a Brazilian—and for playing football… oh wait, not for playing football. During football games, Havaianas are worn around the ankles or planted in the sand to mark the goal line.

Now, keep in mind that chinelos can be real torture at first. Of course, all foreigners stop by a Havaianas store at one point—it’s the leading brand, it’s trendy, and Havaianas are cheap in Brazil. But getting used to walking in Havaianas takes some practice. The Y-shaped strap between your big toe and your second toe may create a blister, and you use different muscles to walk as well since the shoes offer pretty much no support.

And by the way, it’s tempting to buy several pairs of Havaianas because the designs are awesome, but just so you know, they last forever. I have yet to break a pair and I walk a lot. So yes, I have a paper bag full of brand-new Havaianas in Canada (and, ahem, in France).

You really get to appreciate Havaianas once you get used to them—give it a few days. After that, it’s like thong-bottom bikinis, you will wonder how you lived without them.

Winter boots, thick socks, pants, sweater, gloves, scarf, hat… I suspect it was never meant to “layer up” in Canada. Some people find it cozy and comforting but I can’t breathe.

I’m happier in Havaianas.

Go figure.