Garden of Earthly Delights

The Gardens of Peace

It was about seven years ago that I first saw a picture of the Boboli Gardens. It was right after my brother had traveled to Italy to visit a friend. Though it was a short trip for him he brought me back an authentic leather journal that still had the aroma that the fine leather retailers have, and many photos of this wondrous place called, Italy. There was one photo in particular that stood out, it was a mesh of blue hues and varying degrees of green, constructing a magnificent tree and pond that took up the whole frame. It looked so magical. Once he told me where the photo was taken, I was determined to see it, whenever that would be.

Upon finding out that I would be traveling to Italy this summer, I knew I had to visit this place that I only recognized through pictures. So after being in Florence, Italy, for a full week I finally got around to visiting the Boboli Gardens, which are conveniently located in the back of the Pitti Palace. Unfortunately for newcomers to the area, street signs in Florence can be very hard to find, similar to trying to find a fallen contact lens on a white floor. They are there, you just can’t see them, let alone read them. The silver lining to this is that despite Florence’s inability to have straight streets and clear signs, the Boboli Gardens were extremely easy to find, just South West on the main drag of the Ponte Vecchio.

I acquired my free ticket by showing my ufizzi card, I then stepped through the palace walls, past the grand amphitheater and then up archaic looking steps only to be transported into another world. The breadth of the open air and the grassy knolls felt like at least five or more football fields back to back. The immense size of the gardens alone will stop you in your tracks. Cosimo I’de Medici, the first Grand Duke of Tuscany, and his wife Eleonora di Toledo, purchased the ducal home and added onto the Gardens from the 17th till the 19th century. It became more or less an outdoor museum for them to show off their Roman statues. Besides the many statues that decorate the lawn and greet you as you embark up the hill and through the gardens, it is also home to stunning panoramic views, grandiose mythological fountains, grottos, hedges as tall as a giant and many paths leading you into hidden places.

As I stared out, I saw a tall stone pillar marking the center and a deep grey stone bathtub accompanying it, while white stone statues looked over the incoming tourists. Then the grass sloped up to a high tier where pebbled sidewalks led everyone deeper into the Gardens. I climbed and I climbed, gazing at the amount of foliage encircling the main walk way. Finally, after reaching a plateau I looked to my left and then to my right, each holding a different path for me to take. Like a giddy child I tried to decide which would take me where. I decided left, the path that looked less traveled. So, my feet carried me through winding gravel and towering trees with bushes that kissed the ground, first left then a quick turn right, then up another hill and then straight. I found myself on what could be a small balcony that overlooked all of Florence. I could see Santa Maria Novella, The Duomo, and further into the Tuscan hills. It was magnificent. I felt like a king overlooking his vast kingdom with pride and a sense of accomplishment. I proceeded to sit down on the balcony and watch the stillness of the city from above, knowing that it really wasn’t still and that people were buzzing, driving, honking, eating, gossiping down below, just beyond the walls of the Gardens.

As I sat in peace, I had a sense of mindfulness that overcame me. I felt that whether there is a God or not, someone, somewhere had done something right because never have I been able to sit still and think of only the beauty of a place, especially without my pestering thoughts taking over. The Gardens are not just a tourist attraction, it is a spiritual experience even for the agnostics and atheists. It changed me. For once I understood peace.

The Boboli Gardens are an experience that includes rich history, amazing views, and a feeling of purpose that cannot be matched. For anyone looking to enhance their vacation in Florence, Italy, I suggest wandering around aimlessly in the Boboli Gardens.

David.

I don't plan on blogging every day, but something should be said for the things I experienced today. Problem is, I already have a hard time explaining Florence's magnificence to myself. I keep saying, "Wow this place is amazing." "Amazing" is insufficient, and a part of me thinks no words, no pictures, nothing but actually being here could explain Florence.

I sat at a restaurant, tearing into my pizza while the humidity and heat kept it warm, and then music started to play. I have found that a lot of restaurants have no music playing, so the sudden notes of splendor perked up my ears like a deer when it hears the slightest rustle in the brush. I turn my head and see a smiley old man stringing together squeaky notes on his accordion. It was as if I was in a movie. You could see the bliss on his face permeate into his music. Contagious. Beautiful. A moment that can't really be created, but must be so candid and unexpected so as to make you sit in awe.

This simple pleasure of hearing one note meld into another while he grinned in joy made me want to freeze the moment. It was priceless.

Later on my friends and I wandered around Florence looking for the Accademia which held Michelangelo's "David." We walked and walked, had some gelato, then kept walking. Usually the first time you venture out to look for some museum or landmark you always end up getting lost and walking in multiple circles. But, whilst getting lost we found a gallery of modern art by students from an art school in Florence. It wasn't a big place, but every piece of art was so unique that it felt as if I was looking at each piece forever. It took me a while to get back to the exit.

Finally, after my feet were barking and sore and my left arm numb from the weight of my bag, we had finally found David. It is quite funny because we talk about David in such a casual way that if you were behind us listening to our conversation you'd think it was just another one of our friends. The Accademia not only held "David," but also works by many other artists such as Lorenzo Bartolini (one of my new favorites). Upon seeing David and all the tourists surrounding him, snapping nude photos of his body, I studied the grandeur size of him and all the minute curls in his hair and the long veins on his neck and arms. I couldn't believe it. It felt like a joke, a Disney ride made of plaster and shit. None of the art seems real. From antiquity on, not only David, but paintings hang on the walls staring back at you still in pristine condition. How? How did we get so lucky as to preserve these great works? I don't know. It is always hard for me to understand that it is all real. Really sculpted by Michelangelo. It just baffles my mind. Needless to say it was, for lack of a better word, amazing.

First Week Done

My 3rd nutella donut in a row.
Never felt better.
Now that the week is winding down, my body is heaving a long sigh. Finally. This weekend I have tentative plans to go to the beach, the Boboli Gardens and The Duomo. And to hopefully eat some more nutella donuts. In Italy they give you these tissue paper thin, flimsy, pathetic napkins typically with Jolly Caffe stamped on them. They absolutely do not do the job of a napkin. Where are the strong man Brawny paper towel napkins?! Even if you had 100 of these non absorbent stupid napkins, they would clean nothing!
Sorry. I should be less of an Ugly American.

I haven't been posting pictures to my blog mainly because I haven't been taking that many. There are some people who can't keep the camera in their bag, always covering their faces with it trying to get the perfect shot of Italy. I keep my camera in my purse and take pictures with my phone mostly. I would like to remember this beautiful place with my eyes rather than from behind the lens of a camera.
But, here are some pics I have managed to snap in my spare time.

Stairs Are Popular Here

My roommate Chelsea said, "Stairs are popular here."

When I found out where our apartment was it said, "1st floor", but lugging my 60-70 pound up 4 flights of 7 stair sets in switchbacks like in cross country, I thought, "Fuck this". First floor my ass. Up and up and up. In the Ufizzi, stairs upon stairs. To our classroom, stairs and more stairs. It was the American sloth in me that despised those stairs, but it's just another part of Italy that makes it unique and worthy of notice. Italians take their time, stairs take time, and I can't help but think America would be very different if more people took the stairs.

With each stair I run my fingers along the railing heaving my heavy pasta and nutella donut filled body swaying with the weight of my laptop hanging of my sore shoulder, but see, I can remember the feeling. In MV I can't remember shit. I can't remember what I had for dinner, what my boyfriend tells me, what I need to do later on, etc. I am sure the different surroundings imprint on my mind more so than the monotonous way of life in MV. But, that's my choice. In MV I choose not to enrich each day with new experiences. When I leave I hope to take the ability to be present in each moment like how it was in Firenze.

Early Bird Gets 4 Peaches for 1 Euro

Woke up at 6:30 am

Left house at 7:15 am

Arrived at Piazza del Mercato Centrale around 8:00 am

It was fairly quiet and beautiful with hanging garlic, green leafy bunches, and a whole lamb waiting to be sliced with its blooming core.

I bought apples for 60 cents Prosciutto and parmesan for around 7 euros 4 peaches for 1 euro A melon for 2 euros chocolate croissant and espresso for 1.70 euros

I felt revived, excited and just plain happy. To be up early, in a different surrounding, trying to piece together basic Italian words just made my 4 hours of sleep worth it. I think when at home it is hard to think of things as "worth it."


Fortunately, even just for this month, I will be determined to make it all worth it.

First Real Day

Ahhh. First real day in Florence, conquered.

Florence is beautiful. The cobblestones are beautiful. Even the pestering gypsies are beautiful in their own way. Florence doesn't have the natural modern beauty that our brains might immediately think of, but instead it has an essence of antiquity and familiarity to those who inhabit the city in the region of Tuscany. I chose the term familiarity because not only do the Italians seem completely comfortable and knowledgable of their surroundings, they also are in no rush (besides the cab drivers and the millions upon millions of vespas). They have an air of relaxation that makes me think that they trust their city and surroundings. I don't think I could say the same for the ole MV. In MV stores go out fast and budding new stores are ready to take their places, while something fairly young in the community is being fixed or added on to. The process is never ending in my suburban neighborhood. Here they love their culture and intend to keep it rich and intact.

My first impression of Florence was, "Wow everything is so pretty. Holy shit. We almost just crashed." I was overcome with fear for the lack of rules on the road. Our cab driver almost ran into a bus and a vespa, all colliding into one spot. It was scary, but the cab driver didn't even flinch, it was as if the chaos was normal and normal would be chaos. You look around and see a girl pedal by with her wedges on. There are skeezy looking men telling you that they have student discount for all the leather bags. Caffe and espresso for 1 to 3 euros. Architecture gracing crumbled walls. Everything is a sight to see and even if you see it once you'll still be surprised when you see it again, like the woman in stilettos walking on thousand year old wobbly stones.

Pasta! Risotto! Pizza! Panini! Vino! Gelato! So much food. My pants are already squeezing me tighter, but honestly it is so worth it. The food is delicious. Fresh. Beyond your wildest dreams. I wish I could describe the food better but there are no words for the taste.

The only downfall, if you could even call it that, is that I am American. I usually go out with the other 7 girls in my apartment and god almighty do we reek of being American. "Americana!" We stick out like a sore thumb and whelp it makes you feel less welcome. I feel like if I was on my own and worked on my Italian that I could maybe get through their judgmental stares. Such is life.

Anyways that's all for now seeing that it's almost 2 am and I plan on waking up at 6:30 so that I can head to the farmer's market in Piazza del Mercato Centrale and get some produce! Italy does weird things to me, like wanting to wake up early.

Anywho,
ciao bella