Gola Vendors Blog

Dear Gola Vendor,
My name is Bobby, I sell Italian Ice on the corner of Mott and Mulberry in Little Italy, New York City. I find that fruit flavors sell the best, and kids love blueberry, because the ice is blue. I’d like to know, is your Gola Ice like Italian Ice? Wanna swap recipes?

Blue ice like the sky! How lovely. Gola is from fruit syrup, so it is all colors but no blue! But you have given me many ideas! I have no blue Gola Ice. What I have is black rock salt Kala Khatta, I have orange, lemon, mango, pineapple, Gulab pink and Wala and Katchi Kairi. I crush my ice and make a lolly around a bamboo split stick. I am very generous with the fruit syrup. We have our color day here in India, and on that day, maybe I mix my ice with blue fruit too. Like the little boy that steals cellphones. I see him now at my feet, painting color all over the little black phone. They look like black bugs those phones, but this little boy paints them turn into butterflies. He stole this one from a man named Toad, who never stops by anymore. He runs back and forth in a big hurry. We have decided that if he ever slows down, maybe we’ll give him his phone back. I am waiting for him. And I am waiting for you, Bobby from Mott and Mulberry. Free Gola ice for you.

We Gola Vendors are scattered on the streets like stones in a warm rushing stream. We are cool with our ice, and the streams of hot people flow around us. I serve you Gola Ice, and you give me little things back, little pearls, and I keep your pearls on ice for you. Like this sneaky little thief boy, I like him so I give him Gola for free. He likes to steal cell phones. I think this is a good job for him because people talk too much. He gets free Gola for this good work. And in return he gave me this pearl: he told me about this thing called blogging, where you can put up your antenna and vibrate your thoughts with the whole world. He says, you want to play? Gola vendors, we love to play. That’s why we were tossed into the stream, to play.

So I start with this story. A foreign man comes up to me, tells me he is a Toad. Does he already know this, that he will come back to me as a toad some day? I am waiting. He says he is thirsty. I see right away he doesn’t know what he is thirsty for. But he is very brave, because he is wearing clothes that are too tight and make him sweat, one of those suits for when you mean business. And he is brave to ask for the Gola, because Gola ice is a test that makes most foreigners runny and running to the bathroom. Mr. Toad licks my good ice and stares at a cow. Does Mr. Toad now wish he were a cow instead? I put this thought on ice. Mr. Toad will be back, everyone will. I am waiting.

So this is my question to you, that I vibrate from my antenna out into the world: Should I have warned the Toad that Gola ice will make him runny? Did I do a bad thing? Or did he need to spend time alone in the bathroom. Please tell me, I am waiting for you.