Ice Cream Blues
published on Jan 15th, 2006 // 0 Comments
Forces of Nature were out to get me on a sunny day in Florence
Some years ago while Inter Railing through Europe on my own I finally arrived into a city I longed to see. Florence, Italy was on top of my agenda on that trip. I arrived by train from Rome and quickly sorted out a campsite (Camping Michelangelo) in the hills easily commutable by bus. Setting up my tent on a slope overlooking the city and eager to absorb the much needed culture after slowly drinking my way through France and Switzerland I headed for town.
Cities and countries have a ‘must do list’ similar to coming to Ireland and drinking a pint of Guinness or eating a Haggis in Scotland. For Florence it was ice-cream. This was my one stop in Italy where I had to try the ice-cream. So not to spoil my dinner by eating my dessert first I set about finding a restaurant with suitable food (suitable being cheap). Wandering cobbled streets I found an establishment that wasn’t too busy or expensive. I settled for a generic bowl of pasta and mediocre sauce, shoving it into my mouth hoping that it wouldn’t swell in my stomach and ruin my ice-cream.
Finding an ice-cream shop in Florence wasn’t that hard. Did I mention it was famous for it! Finally settling on flavors for my scoops (3 in all) I handed over an extortionate amount of cash for it. I don’t recall the flavors right now but they do not feature in this tale. The ice-cream is but just a prop to an extraordinary day.
Wandering into a plaza I came across a load of portrait artists. Spooning ice-cream into my mouth I moved from artist to artist. Out of the corner of my eye I could see some commotion. Two men with gypsy like features had started fighting quite close to me. One was brandishing a razor blade. The more steps I took away from them the closer they got. I began to suspect a rouse. I was saved from finding out by an almighty clap of thunder. The skies literally opened up. The rain hit so hard it was painful. The cobbled plaza was a wash with people rushing for cover. I headed for the Cathedral.
Rushing up the steps, three security guards were struggling to push the doors shut. I tried to nip inside but was hastily shunted out. NO FOOD allowed inside! My tremendous ice-cream was done for. I had to leave it on the steps outside but I had no choice. This rain could ruin my health for the last few weeks of my trip.
Inside my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Wearing glasses my vision was somewhat blurred from the rain. CRACK!! Beside me a lump of the ceiling had fallen. My heart nearly stopped. A piece the size of a football lay beside me. This storm was incredible. Shaken I spent the next ten minutes wandering the cathedral with other soggy tourists. I finally grew bored of this cold church where my impending doom felt imminent. I headed for the streets once more.
The storm had ceased to be replaced by sunshine. The cobbles smelt incredible after their wash. I decided to head back to camp and check on my belongings. Remember I had set up my tent on a hill which gave me a feeling of dread.
Walking around a corner a white Vespa scooter missed my sandled toes by inches. The scooter skidded while turning the corner and pitched its female driver off. I raced over and turned the engine off. The girl lay on her back in visible distress. She wore a helmet thankfully. From the actions of people around me I gathered an ambulance was called. The girl held my hand tightly until she as stretchered into it.
I finally made it back to my campsite and my tent was indeed waterlogged with all my gear. My novel had now increased in volume 3 times its normal size but that didn’t bother me as I read it on campsite’s balcony, drinking a pint while my sleeping bag dried over a tree. The creamy head of my Guinness for once, couldn’t compare while I watched the sun go down after an eventful day in Florence.
