I’d just finished having the best Pina Colada of my life when I came across a cobbler in Valencia. Part of the exterior of the market near Russafa, I noticed the stack of shoes behind the long countertop. The word “calzado” had also stood out to me, having now understood its translation after my trip to the Dominican Republic (shoutout to the staff at the library in Centro Leon!).

I took out my phone, wanting to take a landscape photo of the shopfront, questioning if I should ask to take a photo first. In my slightly tipsy state, I decided to ignore that instinct and photograph it anyway. As you can see by the image, the slightly ticked-off owner was not best pleased.

“Sabes que es de mala educación no preguntar primero”(you know it’s rude not to ask permission to take the photo first), he says to me as I approach to say sorry. I quickly explained how I write about shoes and was interested in the cobbler shop, to which his tune had only slightly changed.

He told me he had worked in the shop for over 35 years, and that was just since he joined, as the shop had existed long before him. They could fix almost any sort of shoe-related issue or at least give it a good go.

This is unlike the majority of your Timpson’s, a chain of cobblers in the UK, as a lot of the more complicated wooden sole work can only be fixed once sent off to the HQ. This is something I discovered at my local shop after enquiring about the crack in the heel of my Bally Loafers. Although he’d previously helped me out with glueing my ancient eBay finds, so shoutout to him.

The cobbler then explained the name of his shop Zapa-Terrio, handing me his business card to explain it further, as I was clearly missing the pun. I finally nodded, acknowledging the great wordplay.

I then turned over the cobbler’s card to find a naked lady on the back, pointing and chuckling at how necessary such a detail was in the shoe world. Terrio looked back at me, a sly smirk on his face – clearly it hadn’t hindered business.

If you’re a local in Valencia, then get your shoes sorted out at Zapaterrio. If you’re just visiting, it’s worth a pit stop or at the very least, grab yourself one of the shop’s business cards.

I’ll leave with you some post-cobbler-chat thoughts I made:

• I think a lot of cobblers feel unrecognised.
• I think a lot of cobblers want to be recognised as a key part of society, an essential worker ofc. It’s a dying art, and how else are we going to walk about the city streets if our shoes are broken?
• They are essential!!!
• They take great pride in their work. People expect them to fix their shoes, no matter how complex, it’s almost to the point where they feel entitled. But the cobblers deserve recognition!!!!!