In Penghu (澎湖縣), a small cluster of islands off the western coast of Taiwan, the cerulean waves of the Pacific Ocean wash gently against pale sand beaches. The livelihood of the people of Penghu was once deeply intertwined with the ocean; following the ebb and flow of the tides, fishermen cast their nets and islanders tread the craggy rocks harvesting shellfish and sea vegetables.

To protect their feet against the sharp stones and oysters, the locals wore straw sandals woven from rice straw. The coarse bottoms of the shoes gripped against the slippery surfaces, while the flexible soles allowed the feet to fold around uneven rocks. Once the shoes were worn out, the natural materials were easily returned to the earth. Straw shoes were once a necessity for every household in Penghu, but with the advent of plastics they slowly faded from daily use. Now, Penghu-native Hong Yu-zhen (洪瑀蓁) hopes to preserve the memory of this craft and to remind the Taiwanese people of their ties to the ocean.

In her workshop in Wang-an (望安鄉) in southern Penghu, a sun-tanned Yu-zhen holds up different straw sandals. Some she has woven herself; others are old straw sandals once worn by elderly locals in their youth. “This one belonged to an 80-year old grandma. It’s made of fishing nets!” she exclaims. Her bright smile lights up the room with the warmth of the sun.

Straw sandals are traditionally woven with rice straw, she explains, but Penghu doesn’t grow rice. The straw used to weave the shoes was instead repurposed from the thick ropes used to bundle cargo imports of rice and salt to the islands in the past. The resourceful islanders would save the ropes, break them apart, and weave them back together as straw shoes. Supplies on the island were scarce, so they also repurposed other materials such as old fishing nets and old clothes.

Yu-zhen became enamored with the straw shoes while doing research fieldwork during university at the historical settlement Hua-zai (Zhongshe Village) 花宅聚落(中社村) on Wangan. The village was established more than three hundred years ago by early Han settlers from China. Many of the small stone houses with latticed windows, coral walls, and bound together with mud and lime still stand to this day. The remaining, mostly elderly locals have maintained simple traditional lifestyles tied closely to the land and ocean.

“They all have such fond memories of the ocean,” Yu-zhen said, “of walking along the ocean rocks wearing straw sandals and harvesting seaweed.”

After discovering how essential these straw sandals were to the people of the area before, she began to learn the craft from Grandpa Chengren (葉成仁阿公). She practiced for months before plaiting a pair she was satisfied with. When Yu-zhen wore her first pair of freshly-woven sandals on the street, the faces of the local grandparents lit up. They wistfully recalled warm memories of their own weaving skills and of wearing their straw sandals to the ocean. Many brought out their own old, treasured pairs to share with her.

Straw shoes are woven with a wooden loom resembling a bench, with four notches on the front end that hold the warp threads. Bunches of rice straw are twisted and interwoven, between the four warp threads. A large wooden fork is used to periodically pull the weft snugly against the base. The laces are woven directly into the shoe. The bottom of the finished show is left unfinished—the rough straw provides friction and grip against slipper rocks. One pair of straw shoes takes almost three hours to make.

Straw shoes can be found in other areas of Taiwan, and also Japan. In Penghu, the shoes are thicker both due to the repurposed materials and to protect the feet against the sharp ocean rocks. The coarse rice straw bottoms help grip the slippery rocks. In Chiayi, the shoes are often thinner and mostly woven for temple use.

“Unfortunately, many people in Taiwan often only associate straw sandals with death or superstition, since they are worn during funerals.” Yu-zhen says. “They don’t know about how closely the tradition of straw shoes is tied to the ocean. As an island country surrounded by water, I think it’s important that we know of this culture.”

Yu-zhen hopes to connect more people to the earth and sea through the experience of island weaving folk arts. Under the name Daobien (島編有潮事), she travels around Taiwan teaching workshops. In addition to the straw shoes, she also teaches fishing net weaving; she holds classes in how to weave discarded fishing nets collected from the ocean into everyday market bags and beverage holders.

In Penghu, she has now made a home on Wangan, where she is known as the “community granddaughter”. She spends her days weaving straw sandals, chatting with the local grandparents, and searching for local materials and plants. She lives an island life tied to the ocean—touched by the warmth of the water, sun, and community.