In the spirit of Christmas, a week dedicated to joy and merriness, I thought it would be a magnificent idea to tell a story about a time where my family wanted to kill me. As I sit in my parents' home, getting ready to spend Christmas with them, we started to share stories. My sister brought up this one, and we all had a good laugh.
My parents and sister were only spending a few days in Florence, Italy, with me before we all were about to drive through Tuscany. One of those days we decided to go to the Pitti Palace and the Boboli Gardens. The Pitti Palace was home to private apartments that once belonged to the Grand Duke and the heir. Their wives also had apartments, and the second floor contained a massive library and side rooms for the children. Today the palace houses the Palatine Gallery, the Silver Museum, the Museum of Modern Art, the Costume Gallery, the Porcelain Museum, and the Museum of Carriages. The Boboli Gardens are behind the Pitti Palace.
The summer sky was clear, and the sun was beating down on all of us as we walked the cobblestone streets of Florence. After a delicious breakfast and a morning filled with laughter, I suggested going to the Pitti Palace to explore the museums, and since the day was beautiful, I wanted to go to the Boboli Gardens. I had seen a statue of art that I was interested in on Pinterest, and it said it was in that garden, so I wanted to explore and see it. I was hell-bent on seeing this particular sculpture and did not want to leave Florence without seeing it.
When we arrived at the Pitti Palace, I did not have any expectations. At the time, I only knew two things about it, it was a palace, and it hosted museums. We first saw a giant structure that was massive next to the street. The fortress seemed like a fortitude made to withstand any attack. The thick brown brick making the palace look uninviting. The detailing around the windows was the only aspect that added any different patterning to the flat walls.
The inside was incredibly different than what the outside portrayed. The ornamentation displayed indoors was ostentatious but unbelievable. The wealth that existed (and probably still exists) back then was undeniable. The rooms (not being used by museums) were displayed as replicas of what they would have looked like if the Duke was still occupying the home. The rooms almost looked like a movie set, staged in a way that seemed like someone was still currently living in it. The fabric curtains and canopies were velvet or silk and draped decoratively and with purpose. The gold crown molding and detailing around the room made everything seem more expensive and royal. Everything had a place and was elegantly flashy.
While we were in the Pitti Palace, my family was amazed and cooled by the current day, air conditioning. We were posing and taking pictures of each room while admiring everything. As we began to make our way outside, we were all in a cheerful mood and smiling ear to ear. We were excited to look at the sculptures in the Boboli Gardens and be outside in the sunlight.
When we stepped outside, we did not realize how hot it would be. I was accustomed to the heat already because I was currently living in Savannah, Georgia, at that time. I also was used to the Italy sunshine since I had been there for two weeks. My family was not, and they don't always enjoy it when having to move around.
As we started to walk, we slowly got warmer and warmer. I could feel myself begin to sweat as we explored the gardens. One by one, we came across some of the iconic sculptures of the Boboli Gardens, but not the sculpture I desired to see. I started to become confused and disappointed that I could not find this statue. It was supposed to be a massive old man leaning over a pond. I liked to think it looks like a giant that was erupting from the environment. I had seen a photo of it years before visiting Florence and recalling how awesome it would be to see it in real life. If I didn't get to find the statue, I would be so disappointed, so my determination to find it was 100%.
My family was not on board with my determination. After we walked the entirety of the gardens and took some magnificent photos of views and sculptures, I was insistent that we somehow missed the Old Man Statue I was dying to see. I kept dragging them through multiple paths, ones we had been through multiple times, dead set on there is a path we magically missed. Meanwhile, my sister was drenched in sweat and overheating and done with my searching. She expressed that she thought the statue was either no longer there or it had never been in those gardens. She started to get more irritated with me, and my mom was trying to appease us all. The frustrations flew in the middle of the gardens, and she walked off, stating she was leaving. I, being just as stubborn (must be a family trait) insisted I was going to look until I found it. We overall compromised we would walk one more loop and then call it quits. My heart sank knowing, deep down inside me, that we probably weren't going to find it.
Due to the arguing, my parents were frustrated with my sister and me, while we were frustrated with each other. Now, add in the beating sun and the heat, which made the mood so much worse. For the next hour, my sister and I were snipping at whatever the other said. Now reflecting, she had every right to be frustrated with me and my stubbornness. I had dragged my family around the gardens for an extra hour longer than we needed to be to find a statue that was not there. At the moment, I was disappointed and irritated, so I was not going to admit that maybe she was right.
Well, it turns out that she was right. The statue I was looking for, called Colosso dell'Appennino (or the Appennine Colossus), was someplace else. It is at the gardens of Villa Medici at Pratolino, which is about seven miles north of Florence. Whoops! Now we look back and laugh about the entire venture, but at the moment, I am pretty sure she wanted to murder me.
While traveling through Italy with my family, we had our ups and downs. At the moment, this was not one of our finest moments when we let our frustrations fly. Now we can reflect and appreciate how beautiful the Pitti Palace and the Boboli Gardens were and laugh about how we all fought with one another. The negative memory has turned into a positive one, and now we smile and appreciate the experience with warm hearts.
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