Walking into a typical Italian café for breakfast, which in Italy is usually a café latte and a pastry for me. There is one particular pastry I love in Italy. It’s a donut filled with custard. Yum, really delicious and their coffee, made with an espresso poured into a jug of hot milk, is what dreams are made of. So this particular morning I was in Firenze, by all accounts one of the most beautiful cities on the face of God’s earth. I was kinda sleepy and needed that coffee to wake me up. As I entered the café, a lady was standing outside the door wearing a large coat. The weather was fairly balmy, and I could tell within two hours give or take, it was gonna be sticky hot. She had Kleenex tissues in one hand and socks and underwear in the other, all for sale.

She approached me, not begging or anything untoward, she had things that were for sale and she wanted to get rid of them. I looked deep into her eyes for some reason or another. I asked her how much for the socks, which came three to a pack. I had been on the road for the last six weeks in Italy and France, and I had no clean underclothes. So as not to brush her away, I told her I would talk to her on my way out. I had my coffee and my custard-filled donut and I walked outside. I asked her, how much for the port and docks? (London slang for socks.) She replied, whilst looking at my watch and shoes, ‘for you sir, seven euro.’ I suddenly felt this pang of guilt deep inside my heart. Seven euro for a three pack of what seemed to be half decent socks. I replied, ‘here, take ten,’ her whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. She was delighted, but one could tell that she has taught herself to restrain any feelings of happiness. I then asked her would she like a coffee, which added to her good feeling, so I went inside and bought her the coffee plus the exact same donut I had eaten. She was over the moon, but as I remarked earlier, it was a subdued happiness, she had one foot on the brakes. There was so much to this lady from Nigeria that one couldn’t help noticing, yet was left unsaid. Curiosity had bitten me for some reason that day.

I took my case and left for Siena and the infamous Chianti region. I was heading for Montalcino, which is known for its great reds, Brunello. I spent the whole day meandering around the Tuscan countryside and had a pretty informative time learning of my whereabouts. To my amusement, I stumbled upon the distinguished plot of Antinori’s Tignanello vineyard, one of the world’s greatest red wines hidden in the hills. I stopped that evening on my way back to Firenze and wolfed down had my favorite dish, spaghetti a la vongole. Being a creature of habit, I went back to the same hotel from the previous night. I was awoken the next morning to the humdrum of Fiats and Vespas buzzing around Firenze, my father used to call them doodlebugs. They sound like annoying flies, and they come at you from every direction, you feel like swatting them. Anyway, it was coffee time again, I can’t tell you how much I look forward to this moment. I love it, the relaxed atmosphere where you can see the Italians saying buongiorno to each other, two cheek kisses, the gossip that goes hand in hand with the espresso, and of course how can I forget the cigarette. It’s all so dramatic and full of life. As I was entering the café, there she was, my friend the Nigerian lady. This time I asked her if she wanted some breakfast; how could you say no to one of those pastries? So we ate. I asked her about her life and she told me her story. This was all very relaxed spur of the moment stuff by the way, it just seemed to fall into place. She had come to Italy twelve years earlier, no knowledge of the Italian language or culture, leaving her son behind in Lagos. I asked her how much money she makes every day? ‘Ten euro yesterday’ she replied, then a deep pause and two drags of a cigarette later, ‘seven the day before, and I think thirty the day before that.’ She had a genuine look of sadness, but she managed to put a smile on her pretty face, keeping up appearances, you know? She was in her office and there was a huge amount of pride at stake. She was explaining how life in Italy has recently become very hard; the economic crisis in Europe has bitten deep into the heart and soul of the underclasses. She told me there is no work to be found, it’s very hard to make any money at all, she said. I suddenly realized how lucky I have been in my life. It was a moment of sincere clarity. I decided from then on to make a greater effort to concentrate on the brighter side of life; even when you think it’s bad there is always someone out there who has it worse. She gets up every day, goes to work to pay her rent, and does what she has to do. She was inspirational. It was such a lift meeting her. I admired her courage. I am going back to Firenze very soon and when I see her I will make sure to buy whatever she has for sale, oh and that donut……