Health: Overruled!

Jul 30, 2014 by

Frigidarium: the best ice cream in Roma!


Frigidarium: the best ice cream in Roma!

          More than anything else about Italy, I’m excited for the food. Yeah, yeah, there will be boys with accents that will melt me – but, friends, the food! I’m far more concerned about how many bacio bianco and cannolo Siciliano ice cream cones I can lick than guys. If for some ridiculous reason it ever comes down to a charming Italian or Frigidarium, I will choose Frigidarium. Boys are everywhere; Frigidarium is only in Roma. Ice cream aside, do you realize that I’m going to eat real cacio e pepe (not Toronto’s crappy wannabe versions) again? Oh, and that I’m going to have pastries for breakfast just because I can? Ah, and that Magnum bars will be available to me in pistachio? (Yes, I’m back on ice cream.)

          As if going to Italy isn’t enough to fulfill my foodie dreams, I’m specifically excited because my health rules dictate that they themselves are obsolete from midnight of the day I depart, a.k.a. midnight tonight, until the day after I return. I always get one buffer day when I get back from a vacation to help me cope with PVD (post-vacation depression), a very real syndrome that need not be made worse by withdrawal from chocolate/freedom. In addition to the all-access food pass I’ll be granted come midnight, I’ll get an accompanying get-out-of-jail-free pass applicable to all physically strenuous activity, meaning: fuck you, gym! Understandably, I count down to these sacred midnights (which, in addition to vacations, also kick off holidays). I start stashing junk food days, weeks, and sometimes months in advance, like a chipmunk preparing for winter. As midnight nears, I watch the time like looking away would sacrifice my life. When it comes down to the minutes, I have the first junk food item of my choosing in hand, ready to be bitten as soon as the clock (iPhone) strikes twelve.

          Once this blissful midnight arrives, Olivia and I will be going to Zet’s, a 24-hour spot by the airport with fab greasy food and absolutely nothing healthy on the menu. Even their salads fail to meet my health standards. Zet’s is our pre-travel tradition, even in cases like this that we are not travelling together. We don’t go before every vacation. When scrounging for money to be able to go on vacation in the first place, splurging on pre-vacation luxuries like Zet’s (oh, the irony of that statement; Zet’s is a hole in the wall) isn’t always an option, especially at the rate we used to hop buses to New York before I began saving for Europe and she went back to school. However, we usually make the effort when we fly. Less than three hours until midnight, peeps! Bless Italy for risking my health.

Happiness Tip: When in Rome, say arrivederci to the gym and thank gluttony for gelato! Vacations are health-free zones.

 
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