Save the Red Shoes!

I've got a small bit of bad news. I don't think my red Danskos are going to make it through the winter. Over the last few days, with this crappy fall rain, I have been finding myself consistently unable to walk from the tram stop to my school without ending up with two puddles of water instead of feet. I thought Danskos were supposed to be indestructible!

Please feel free to offer any suggestions (aside from the obvious "Duh, buy some new shoes") here.

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Snow. Snow is better than rain for the simple fact that is is less wet. (Maybe I can live with my imperfect red shoes a little bit longer.)



I mention this because today was the first day where we had snow in Kraków that actually stuck to the ground. However, the morning broke with a lot of sunshine. I stepped out into our refrigerator –in reality, a corner of our balcony– for some orange juice for my breakfast, and it was a gorgeous day! I decided in that moment that I would go down for a jog in a nearby park.

Every experience I have had jogging in this part of town has been wonderful. It's like a sight-seeing tour on warp speed. I have stumbled upon a beautiful garden within a park or just spun around the same path a few time to soak in the intense yellow of the trees in their fall brilliance. I can orientate myself a bit better AND I have to do something to counteract all the spoonfuls of Nutella that I eat directly out of the jar...

So this morning, I put on my sweatpants and my super space-age fabric hoodie with thumbholes cut out of the sleeves, and I was ready to go. I got outside and thought, "this isn't so bad." I got as far as the stoplight on my corner when it started to flurry. Still, I thought, "this isn't so bad." The weather still felt warm-ish, and the sun was still shining. There was a little competition for little kids and their toy airplanes on the big green. I made it down the first straightaway of the 3 or 4 K ring around the park, with the Kopiec Kosciuszko at my back, and I no sooner turned the corner than the wind decided to blow completely parallel to the ground and into my face. The snow flurries were now small collections of ice balls. I finally thought, "this is pretty bad. I must be crazy." Still, there was something thrilling about facing those elements and having giant snowflakes land on my tongue as if I were a child trying to excitedly catch them there.

But when all was said and done, I made it back home almost completely dry. I showered, fixed myself a big bowl of tomato soup, and of course now I'm back to eating more Nutella straight out of the jar.