Without gelato life would be a mistake

I nudge Friedrich Nietzsche with my elbow, taking care not to drop my cone. "Without gelato life would be a mistake!" I say laughing. A spin on his famous quote without music life would be a mistake.

He turns to me and replies in a thick German accent "Don't joke. You are not so funny." I look down and away, suppressing the urge to laugh again, this time at how his giant mustache has gelato stuck to it.

We leave Fiorio (a historic cafe dating back to 1780, where Nietzsche was known to frequent, often indulging in their famous gelato) for a stroll along Via Po under Torino's unique arcades (beautiful covered sidewalks that Mark Twain would later rave about) as the cobblestone streets are drenched with a sudden spring downpour.

Since arriving in Torino I've neglected all 'intellectual' attractions. Opting instead for long days touring the city by bike, searching for the best gelato. Of course the closest one can describe this treat to the western world would be to call it "ice cream". While that serves as a loose description, my taste buds can always tell whenever we're in Italy.