The Giant Gelato Cone

 

Slurping my way through a gelato monster

I was digging through my pictures the other day. This blog dredges up stories from the old days, and I always try to find a fitting picture to accompany the story on the blog. More than once, that search for a photo has inspired another blog post. Such is the case today. 

In the photo at the top, you will see a 20 year old Ben holding a very large gelato cone. It was a roasting hot June day in Florence, Italy. We had been walking for hours and I was starving. I was part of a thirteen student group from Montana State University’s Architecture Program that had been invited to Rome for the summer of 2011 to study in one of the greatest architectural cities in human history. For ten weeks, we took a deep dive into classical art and architecture. When not in classes in central Rome, we would travel to other notable locations from the Italian Renaissance to study the magnificent work done by the masters such as Michelangelo, Da Vinci, Bernini, Palladio and hundreds more. Hence, our presence in Florence on this scorching early summer day. 

The crowds were out in force. The stories you have heard of mass tourism in Europe are no joke. It is easy to poke fun at the absurd tourist hordes, but I understand that even though I was there as a student, I was still a tourist. It’s that line I throw out every now and again; you are never stuck in traffic, you are traffic. And on this day, despite our best intentions, we were traffic. In a group of sixteen, (13 students, two professors and some friend of a friend or something), we raced around the medieval city, anxious to cram as much historic fodder in our brains as possible. From Piazza Della Signoria to Giotto’s Campanile, from the Galleria dell’Accademia to the infamous Uffizi Gallery, we rampaged like a sunglass-clad herd of buffalo. Our group alone may have taken ten thousand pictures that day; barely stopping to let the camera focus before plowing ahead to the next site. 

As architecture nerds, we weren’t so focused on the statues or the overall architectural masterpieces, we were focused on the incredible, endless detailing of the Renaissance era. Cornices and arches, friezes and mosaics cluttering up every available corner of every building. The city of Florence is overwhelming in its sheer amount of stuff to look at. I could spend a month just watching the street performers who somehow manage to capture the attention (and Euros) of the people who clog every street like plaque between shiny white teeth. 

We climbed the hundreds of steps to the top of the Duomo, begun in 1296 by di Cambio and capped triumphantly in 1436 by Brunelleschi’s incredible dome, the first and largest of its kind. Even seven hundred years later, it is still a jaw dropping masterpiece of art and engineering. A tiny stairway leads up the inside of the dome, high above the marble floor, to a rooftop balcony from which the entire city of Florence spreads out like a terracotta quilt over the Italian landscape. It is breathtaking and also hunger inducing. As we tottered out of the cathedral, our relentless professor pushed us on towards the infamous yet unbelievably crowded Ponte Vecchio bridge. We snapped the obligatory picture on the bridge and faint with hunger turned towards the Uffizi Gallery. 

Between us and the Gallery, a line of hundreds of people waited to enter. Myself and several other resourceful students took the moment to slide into one of the ubiquitous gelato shops for a much needed bite. As a resident of Italy for only two weeks, my Italian was not quite up to snuff. As a quick decision maker, I stepped up to the counter and pointed vigorously at the waffle cone and the lemon and raspberry gelatos, residing peacefully in their glass enclosure. I also must have said “grande” at some point in my order. I slid a ten euro note to the teller and turned to talk to my compatriots. 

Suddenly, their eyes got very large. I turned to see what was behind me and found an enormous ice cream cone being held out with two hands by the impeccably dressed Italian man behind the counter. In my haste to order, I had ordered the ultimate cone. Kind of like those restaurants that have the eating specials, where if you finish it, it is free, I had stumbled into a gelato monster. Numerous giant scoops of gelato resided in a waffle cone large enough to hold a small house cat, topped with waffle cookies sticking out like Mickey Mouse ears. 

My classmates quickly became my audience as I set out to devour my mistaken order. Locals and tourists alike gawked as I slurped and chomped my way through a gallon of frozen sugar juice. Determined to beat the sun, I gobbled at the cone, consuming it before many of my classmates had received their more modest orders. Thankfully, one classmate was quick on the draw with her camera and captured my masterpiece (and another classmate's amazement) before I scarfed it down. 

Hunger satisfied, I jumped back in line for our next item on our list. I was buzzing with energy; unsurprising from the massive amount of sugar I had just consumed. But, that monster gelato cone revitalized me for the remainder of our visit/workout. A few hours and a thousand more pictures later, we completed our whirlwind tour of Renaissance Italy’s main attractions. As the city of Florence dwindled in the back window of the bus back to our little hotel in Siena, my classmates chattered excitedly about the myriad of architectural details we had seen up close and personal today. Cameras shuddered under the sheer weight of thousands of digital images. The bus buzzed with excitement. Meanwhile, my sugar high had subsided and I was keeled over in the backseat like a drunk, absolutely dead to the world.