Ode to my yak trax

I love my yak trax.  (Dear Peace Corps, please do NOT eliminate these from the budget.  It would equal disaster for clumsy volunteers like me.)

What are yak trax, you ask?  Great question.  People all around Moldova want to know what the heck I’m taking off and putting on my feet, too.  These, my friends, are yak trax:

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These puppies have saved me from many a slip and fall.  I walk in them.  I go running in them.  And they manage to keep my upright on most winter terrains, despite  my inherent propensity to fall anywhere I am, and in any season.

The cleaning lady at our work was fascinated by them, saying she’d never seen anything like them.  The father of a family at the church here asked me how much they cost when he saw me removing them from my boots to go inside for services one morning.  Yes, my friends, it turns out yak trax are somewhat of an enigma here in Moldova.  Which just makes me love ’em even more.

So this post is dedicated to my yak trax.  And since I did not actually want to write an ode, I will include a song about shoes instead (just insert “yak trax” wherever he sings “new shoes”).


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