Rachel Corsini, Fiction Writing Major
A Step Back In Time
The one thing I hate about Florence would have to be the mosquitoes. My legs are chewed up as though they were a scrumptious piece of filet mignon, now that my only complaint is out of the way, onto the Pitti Palace.
Walking up to the palace, as soon as I set foot on the massive cobblestone drive it was like I stepped back in time. Once inside we went to the Boboli Gardens. I couldnʼt help staring slackjawed at the majesty of them. They seemed to stretch into the distance for miles and never end. it was a medieval green wonderland sprinkled with marble statues. The mini coliseum at the front had its own rows of seats with statues in oval alcoves. The Medici tortoises were found in random places as was their crest.
We wandered the gardens until we found this tree lined path which seemed to lead to nowhere. Every moment of the gardens felt like I was melting out of the present and each step against the gravel paths felt like I was stepping my way into the past. As we wandered we stumbled upon a place where neither of us was supposed to be. We came upon a crumbling bridge, stones collapsed in the pit underneath.
Inside the Pitti Palace each room had brightly painted frescos depicting biblical or mythological scenes. All of them were elaborate and bright, the gold literally shimmering. Nothing that I can possibly write about it can do it justice; there are no words to get its extravagant wonder down on the page. The power and wealth of Cosmo and Eleanora De Medici is incomprehensible. If I could spend the rest of my life at the Pitti Palace I probably would, the lavish furnishings and clothing must be included. I was literally picturing Florentine maidens in richly colored gowns walking arm in arm with the husbands or escorts up the steep hilled paths of the Boboli Gardens.
Today I went to Santa Croce for class, all of the churches and cathedrals in Florence and beyond have spectacular frescoes and medieval art with gold inlaid into the paintings, but what made this church stand out were the tombs in the floor. I had yet to see that at any other place of worship Iʼd been to.
As Iʼm walking around inside Santa Croce I decide to stop and admire one of the monuments, so I look down at the insignia. Low and behold the guy's a Corsini! My dad had told me once about one of our ancestors being friends with a Medici, but I wasnʼt too sure about the story, now I donʼt know. If it is true this has to be the guy! He had to be extremely important to be buried inside Santa Croce. I knew about a street called Corsini, but then again my name also means little path. I really didnʼt know about this person buried inside the church. I might have to look more into it since it involves my family.