Although I am back in England, there is one story I keep forgetting to share from Italy. Before setting off on our long touristy trip, I decided I needed a nice, comfy pair of walking shoes. So obviously I went to Primark and bought £2.50 strappy sandals in both gold AND black. I regret nothing. They were fab, both classy and comfortable. My family and I have always said that if it were socially acceptable for me to walk around barefoot, I would be one with the earth and navigate through the toughest terrains with such ease, it would put a sherpa to shame. These shoes were as close as I was going to get to my potential.
What I particularly enjoyed however, was the lovely sound they made when walking on tile floors in museums. It was a flat, clapping sound that would make one want to hop up and down, or foot-to-foot to make a clap-clap-clap. AND I did this often.
At one particular museum in Rome, I noticed that no one was in the room except my Moth and Sean. I took the lead and began my slappity-slap dance, which soon caught on to Moth. Before I knew it, we were jamming hard to the outrageous beats that only we could hear in our heads. Sean completely ignored the entire process and continued to read the small inscriptions on old jars behind the glass. Mom did some unre Michael Jackson (RIP) moves while I stuck more to the foot shuffling of James Brown.
Then it happens. I hear a muffled giggle. My neck snaps left, only to see for the first time, a female security guard who was sitting IN THE ROOM but some feet away. I didn't make her when we came in because really, who sits in a chair on duty? She should probably be fired. Anyway, my face goes bright red, I burst into nervous giggles, and flee the room shouting at Mom to run. I think we probably made her day but I never returned to ask her, the shame was too great.
