Many of my long time friends call me Imelda. I was surprised that it wasn't one of my friends who purchased the 50 pair shoe rack for us off of our wedding registry. In fact, just yesterday, I bought two more pairs of shoes. I love shoes. They offer protection from the elements (except for yesterday, when I walked through deep rain in some little satin flats), style (with the possible exception of my chunky yet oh-so-comfortable clogs), and comfort (had to come up with something so the clogs don't feel hurt). I literally have hundreds of pairs of shoes. And, though not practical, there are some shoes that I keep just because they have sentimental value. I love my Mizunos that carried me through my first marathon. I laugh when I see the flip flops I wore on my wedding day. Am I the only bride who has worn bright pink Nike flip flops down the "aisle" (which was a dirt running path for us)?
You might think that shoes are the be all end all for me. The answer to all of life's worries. Not true. There are a few things I do love more than shoes - among them is cleanliness. While cleanliness is not a thing, it can still be loved. Some mistake neatness for cleanliness. I am not neat. But I am **** clean.
You've read about and seen some evidence of the filth we encountered in Vietnam. Here are photos to prove that I embrace clean more than shoes.
Here's a photo of the tops of my shoes. They've gotten me through many 3-mile commutes. I wore them almost daily once I started shacking up with my now husband.
There's probably even a little remnant of San Francisco's financial district and the Mission on there.
I had "saved" a pair of shoes, keeping them clean and away from "ick".
And I felt emotionally ready to part with the shoes that had explored miles of Vietnam's beautiful countryside.
Some might wonder why I wouldn't just throw the shoes in the trash. Why leave the shoes in a place where someone could pick them up and use them?
Here's why. A sample foot in footwear from a Sapa local.
And an example of what one can find roaming the streets of Hanoi. The little bit of darkness under the cat's mouth is bloody. Open toed shoes + possibly rabid cat = not on Christina's list of loves.
Bye bye Vietnam. Bye bye shoes. Jeremy and I wondered how long it would take for someone to grab them. We thought it would be measured in minutes. I hope someone enjoys them.