Shoeless

Sometimes I think I could have been born a Kiwi. I have fallen in love with their easygoing natures, love of the outdoors and being active, and do it yourself mentality. Of course, that doesn't even begin to cover my love affair with the country itself, with its rolling green hills, tropical rainforests, staggering mountain peaks, and boundless coastline. It also helps that the latitude in this country creates a climate that is a lot more forgiving than Edmonton. When it comes down to it though, I haven't felt a pull so strong that I would want to spend the rest of my life a 14+ hour plane ride from all my friends and family back home. So Canada still has my heart.

Despite all this, there is one thing I know I'm really going to hate going back to when I come back home: wearing shoes.

I have never particularly liked shoes or even socks, although winter forces me to keep my toes warm in them. In the summers, my feet are generally calloused and the skin is perfectly thick, ready to walk over anything without too much trouble. When I worked at Fort Edmonton, my bare feet were hidden underneath my floor-sweeping 1885 era dress. My co-workers shook their heads. When I was studying in HUB mall and got a bit peckish, I would head to the nearest food shop without bothering to put my shoes back on. The other students in the building did double takes all over the place. But here in New Zealand, sans shoes is the natural state of being—to the point where half the people in the grocery store are walking around the supermarket in their bare feet. This hasn't been practical for me since I generally have to walk at least 10 minutes to get to the nearest store, but today I was driving the van home and stopped at the supermarket.  I ditched my shoes under the gas pedals, and proudly walked into the store.  My conversion into a Kiwi is almost complete.