There I was, in the sleepy little town of Puerto Vallarta on the Pacific Coast of Mexico. Well, maybe not so little and definitely not so sleepy. It is in fact transformed into helltown every christmas and New Years, when a trillion travellers come here, me included of course. After a few days in Mexico City, where no sneakers were to be found, I had faced facts. This would not be a sneaker trip. My friend had already found all that she wanted (day-glo crucifixes, life size statues of blood stained saints, CDs with Menudos and Ricky Martin, don't ask me to explain her because it gives me a headache). But I had found no sneakers. I had had great hopes to find good stuff at the flea market in San Angel but it turned out that that, as well as lucha libre (mexican wrestling) and bull fighting, only happened on weekends and by then I was out of there. Puerto Vallarta had lots of sneaker stores though and I felt really happy until I got up close and saw that the brands on sale were, among others, Reetok and Kike (spelling is correct). But imagine my surprise when one day I was walking on one of the unreally pittoresque cobblestone backstreets of P.V when I discovered a real life sneaker store with a good selection. Ismael and Bernardo in "Arias originales", the best sneaker store in Puerto Vallarta. They think Nike is the best brand but they like Adidas also. They told me that copies like Reetok were made in Guadalajara, but they don't have a problem with them. - There's enough people who want the originals and copies are good for those who have no money, said Isamel wisely. It turned out manager Ismael owned four sneaker stores in P.V and he had great taste. But I quickly discarded the new models when I saw a pair of ORIGINAL Air Max 95s on the shelf (the holiday model in different shades of blue). He only had one pair left and they were my size! I couldn't believe my luck. Bear in mind that I had looked for this particular sneaker in this very color all over Los Angeles, only to find that the Japanese had beat me to it EVERY TIME. However my wallet was empty so I said I'd come back the next day. But the next day included a nightmare boattrip back from the weird hippie beach of Yelapa, with 29 people on a boat that was built for 8. The boat driver (or whatever they are called) made the sign of the cross as we left the beach and made for the ocean. We saw a real life humpback whale but had a hard time appreciating this as all we could think of was that if he came any closer the boat would most definitely go under and we'd all be shark-food. I held on to my Fila-sandals and tried not to look at the neo-hippie behind me who's face was turning as green as his hair. We finally made it to shore and I was so happy to be alive I forgot all about those sneakers (now do you understand what a scary trip this was). When I suddenly remembered, the store had closed and I decided to go back in the next few days. After all, who in P.V would pay over a 100 dollars for a pair of old sneakers? It was ridiculous to even worry about it. That night we were walking the boardwalk when suddenly, in the midst of one thousand American tourists and local teenagers (Caifanes-fans in front of Dillinger's bar, more modern teens further up) what do I see if not three Japanese sneaker freaks straight out of Shibuya, strolling down that boardwalk in their typical Tokyoish garb, with Air Max 95s all over their feet (the fall model, red and black).I panicked, this could not be happening. Was no place on earth safe from these impossible sneaker fiends. Was P.V a haven for sneaker collectors? Had I missed out on something here? Collectibles in Puerto Vallarta. That night I had terrible nightmares! I could see those trendy Tokoites walking out of Ismael's store, congratulating themselves on getting blue 95's for a few measly yens. Needless to say, when Isamel opened the next day, I was right there and behold: the sneakers were safe on the shelf. I paid up and carried them proudly back to my quarters. But I didn't put them on until I left Puerto Vallarta because my Japanese sneaker-friends have told me about the violent Air Max-grabbing that goes on in the streets of Tokyo and while those three sneaky freaks were about, I wasn't taking any chances. Back to sneaker shopping