Easter in Florence

Dear Reader,

Sixteen years of Catholic school didn't prepare me for this. I expected quiet reverence. Florence this Easter weekend was boisterous, merry, and, above all, open for business.

Florence lives for the tourist dollar. Its shops traded through Holy Thursday, through Good Friday...and were open for business by 10 a.m. Sunday morning when we left our apartment to walk to the Santa Felicita Church for Easter mass. A friend, a local, over dinner the evening before, had warned against trying to get into the Duomo for Sunday morning mass. "You won't even be able to get into the square," she said. Instead, she directed us to this little church around the corner from our apartment, a church, she explained, that's still local, off the tourists' radar, but beautiful inside.

Nevertheless, I wanted to see the city's best-known square this morning, so, before mass, we made a detour across the river to the Piazza del Duomo and proceeded until we could go no further, until the mob was impassable. Something was going on on the other side of the wall of people, but we couldn't see it, so we turned around and returned to the sanctuary of Santa Felicita.

All day, the streets were a sea of bodies carrying maps and guidebooks and shopping and eating their way through the day. We made slow progress everywhere we went, pushing Jack's stroller and trying to keep our little group together. Finally, we recognized retreat was called for and headed outside the city walls. Smartest move we could have made. All week, I'd been looking for the tourist-free zone of this city, and this was it. We walked the Via del Bobolino uphill for a new perspective old Florence and the Tuscan hills that surround it in the company of a handful of others who'd had the same idea. This is the place to be. Behind high walls are hidden grand estates. Peek through the gates for postcard views of manicured gardens and mountains that, this time of year, are turning purple and white with wildflowers.

Back in the city for our last night, Kaitlin wanted one more chance at the market. 5 p.m. and still mobs of buyers. We bargained for a jacket for her and a T-shirt for her friend back in Ireland, then set off to find dinner to take home to our men.

Ah, but we'd left it too late, we realized. By 6 on Sunday, finally, this city was beginning to rest. Grocery shops, corner stores, even restaurants were pulling in their shutters and locking their doors. We raced from one to the other and found a little take-away willing to sell us lasagna-to-go for four.

Kathleen Peddicord
Publisher, International Living

P.S. Easter is the biggest tourist draw of the year in this city. The mobs we've shared it with this past week will take their leave, and their numbers won't be nearly as high again until June.

P.P.S. The apartment we rented is on Via della Sprone, number 3. It's basic. A washing machine but no dryer. No dishwasher. No telephone. The beds are metal cots. When we return to this city (we're already making plans for what to see and do on our next visit), we won't stay here again. Instead, our new friend, Carol Milligan, has promised to hook us up right. I mentioned Carol to you already. She runs Milligan and Milligan, a sales and rental agency with a lot of experience helping Americans buy and rent in this city. Contact her at milligan@dada.it.