Candy Shoes

Guess who got candy in their shoes last night? ME! Yesterday afternoon I was informed by a friend in class that I had to wash my shoes and leave them out for Saint Nicholas to inspect. If he found them dirty, he'd leave me a broom. If not, CANDY!

My first thought flew to my Nikes, which I have hated for years but have stubbornly kept as opposed to spending money. I have been using them in the mud for football every week and I have as yet to wash them or even give them a really good shake. Each week I just add layers of ick to them. When I see the locals bring their shoes in plastic bags (so they don't bring the mud into the house), an image flashes into my head of the flakes of mud that somehow lead up all the stairs in the apartment building to the second floor. (Er, I guess that's third floor for Americans. I'm so used to the floor-counting-method over here now that it seems to make more sense.)

Arriving home last night, I stuck the shoes in the tub and sprayed them down, not surprised in the least that they are permanently tinted red now. I'd leave that to a combination of football and Havasupai. Then I decided to stick them on the heater to dry and put out my Sunday shoes which look a lot cleaner but aren't.

I slipped a surprise egg into Uli's shoes and went to bed. It looked to me like the shoes were empty this morning, but when I picked them up, I was delighted to find little candies in the toes! Mmmmm. I don't think St. Nicholas and the Christmas man are the same person here, but it sure is nice of them to gang up on Germany and give people goodies.