Church in Florence, Italy

I learned something new on Good Friday, church bells do not ring from the end of the Maundy Thursday service until Easter Sunday when they proclaim He is Risen! We realized this when for the first time since landing in Florence, we were not awakened by the church bells. This gave us a slow start to our Friday. A much needed chance to rest.

We attended worship at St. James Episcopalian Church -- an American church. Of note, J. Pierpont Morgan donated $10,000 to help build the church in the early 20th century. I say of note because a few months ago Don and I toured his library in New York City.

Unfortunately Ashley did the wrong midterm by mistake so she couldn't join us for worship. St. James scheduled two worship services for Good Friday -- the noon one we went to and one at 7 pm. It was a light congregation. They had a soloist. We sang three hymns including "Were you there," which brought back memories of the Living Stations of the Cross at St. Ann's School/Church. Communion was still using "COVID rules," which meant the wafer could only be placed in your hand, not in your mouth. Participants were to share the same cup of wine. I saw the person ahead of me skip the wine, and I followed her lead. Don skipped both.

After the service we chatted with the rector, Richard Easterling. He and his husband, David, moved from New Orleans to Florence. They fell in love with Italy during a vacation and decided if an opening happened at one of a couple of different churches he would apply and see what happened. I found his faith inspirational.

The tale became more complicated. They were to move in December 2020 and start work just before Christmas. This was a time of COVID restrictions, including mandatory quarantining. They also had a dog to move, who needed to be chipped and up to date with his shots. They did what had to be done to make their big dog David's "companion" so he could ride in the mostly empty airplane instead of in the hold, which may or may not be heated during the 10 hour flight. As he told the story of their move I could hear God's hand in it all. I pray for the same in my life.

Behind the church is a pet cemetery and small garden maintained by David. I made a comment about the church bells not ringing since the day before and Rev. Richard is the one who told me historically the bells do not ring again until Easter. This was the cause of the New Orleans Good Friday Fire of 1788. In the late 18th century the fire alarm was when both churches in town rang their bells at the same time. However one covered its bells so they would not accidentally ring between Maundy Thursday and Easter Sunday. 

Ashley met us after worship. We went to one of her favorite sandwich shops. The line was super slow. Perhaps not coincidentally it was filled with study abroad students and their clueless parents trying to decipher a menu that was all in Italian. The owner speaks flawless English (I assume, his Italian is also perfect) and had much patience explaining the menu to each new group. I just asked Ashley to order something I would like. Ended up with a toasted sandwich with fontina cheese, mushrooms, and some kind of meat. It was delicious.

From here we walked to the Botanical Garden -- a place Ashley has visited on several free Sundays to see what is in bloom. Florence as a whole does not have a lot of trees, grass, and flowers so she hasn't been able to appreciate the seasons as we do in suburbia. They gave us the family rate of 13 euros instead of 6 euros each.

This time the azaleas were in bloom, but not much else. We warmed ourselves up inside the hot house.

On my wish list for a souvenir was buying a purse in the Leather Market. I wanted something small (because I like them small). Had to have the official seal of being made in Florence. After wandering through the stalls I found one I liked that was priced what I wanted to pay so I didn't even bother haggling.

The Leather Market is covered, raised platform surrounded by columns. By day numerous booths are set up selling leather goods. At night it is empty and used by buskers. The acoustics are amazing! Made us wonder about the place. In the daytime, does everyone set up in their same spaces? How long does it take to haul away the carts and set them up again? Where do they all go? We saw similar carts tearing down near the Mercato Centrale. Dozens of large wooden carts made heavy with merchandise. Those are stored in an empty building adjacent to the street, with a second entrance on the street parallel to it. Everything fits just so. I'm sure both have a pecking order and system. As an outsider, though, it looked like controlled chaos with a bit of magic thrown in.

It was starting to rain, but we decided to first get some gelato from the place her roommates like best. Don and I shared a dark chocolate and raspberry sorbet. Ashley had a pistachio and Nutella one.

By this point it was starting to rain so we walked back to the apartment to stay dry. We ate leftover pizza from our first night and heated up some pasta for Ashley. It was nice having a place in the center of town where we could just be.