How to make friends with a pair of army boots (Australia)

The notification about the reunion for the R.I. (Raffles Institution) 1972 batch, thirty years after we left as 18-year-olds, had come rather late, so I didn’t have time to pack properly for Australia, my next stop after the reunion in Singapore.  I was lucky to be able to scramble a ticket at all to Kuala Lumpur, the nearest destination to Singapore, given that it was the weekend of the World Cup Final (in Japan and Korea).  So it was that when I booked myself to go on two hiking trips — Tasmania and Ayers Rock/Uluru — I had to resort to my host in Sydney, Wilson, an ex-R.I. schoolmate, for some sturdier footwear than gym shoes.  With two pairs of thick socks, I managed to convert his ex-National Service boots into walking shoes.

The transport for the Ayers Rock tour, named Ayers Rock Unleashed (it was the “unleashed” bit that caught my eye), was a 14-seater mini-bus.  Two members of the group were from Israel, who totally blanked me on the first day.

When we were cooking dinner at the camping site on the first night, one of them suddenly asked me, a trifle tentatively and nervously, “Why are you wearing Israeli army boots?”  I said, “Oh, these are on loan from a Singapore friend — they were his army boots.  The Singapore army was trained by the Israeli army.”  

His facial expression softened considerably, and he went on to inform me that there were labels on the inside, in two different colours, one blue and one brown, signifying something I don’t remember now*.  He then looked inside my boots, and found they did, indeed, have a label in one of the two colours, which proved to him that they were kosher.  

The next day, he gave me a friendly "Good Morning", and for the rest of the trip, I no longer got the cold shoulder.  

In hindsight, if I’d been quick-witted enough, I should’ve told him, “Because I was trained by the Israeli army!” which might’ve scared the sh*t out of him, as payback for treating me as persona non grata.

(Australia, 2002)

*I think the brown is for tougher terrain.

Comment by Wilson, the owner of the boots (email of 030113): With your great wit n story telling abilities I am surprised u did not tell them that u won it in a fight from an Isreali soldier. You were trained by your uncle or master who was a Shaolin priest n an Isreali soldier who looked like both of them challenged u. Whoever lost had to hand over their boots n walk home barefooted n guess what, this little Shaolin Kung fu exponent beat the crab[sic] out of him. That would have shaken them a bit.