Time.

As a discussion point, most of us would probably agree that this thing we call time is a convenient way for all of us to help organize and coordinate our world. Well, we might agree unless one of us happened to be an American and the other an Italian, in which case time becomes a “bone of contention.” Sure there are exceptions everywhere. But, that doesn’t mean there isn’t some truth to what I’m saying.  So, these are my observations after quite a few years of experience. Let me explain.

Americans live by the clock. We mostly wear watches. We have wall clocks, desk clocks, digitals, LEDs, clocks with and without numbers. Clocks, clocks, clocks everywhere. Italians also have clocks. BUT, apparently they’ve decided that they’re merely decorative additions to the environment and to one’s body. If clocks have meaning, it’s no more than a  suggestion of an otherwise pliable block of time. Pliable. Flexible. Suggestive. In the ten years that we’ve lived in Italy, we’ve noticed some pretty predictable patterns. Here are just a few:

If a meeting is scheduled for 10 am, it will NOT, cannot begin before 10:15 due to the adaptation of the “academic hour,” meaning learned folks are afforded 15 minutes beyond the schedule, sort of a tribute to education and higher intelligence. Of course, this habit has morphed over the years, so now EVERYBODY gets those extra 15 minutes—and then some.

We went to a meeting the other day to conduct some official condominio, condominium business and one neighbor showed up 1 and 1/2 hours late. Something had come up. No phone call, just a last minute screeching arrival. When we all agreed that we were going to have a substantial wait, we did the Italian thing: went for coffee. When we returned,  papers were signed and the meeting was over within 15 minutes. The delay was a little inconvenient, but we weren’t really surprised.

Yet some things are not variable. OK, not just some things—meals. Lunch traditionally begins at 1 pm. Dinner is at 8 and of course, breakfast doesn’t really exist. But other than those two main events, everything else is subject to change—without notice.

This year we decided to attend the special Easter celebration in Florence (Who wouldn’t want to see the famous Explosion of the Cart?) But try as we may, we could not find the starting time for the festivities. We stopped by the local tourist office, but it was closed. We called a couple of phone numbers, but nobody answered. We looked it up online, but could find nothing official. When we tried to deduce the start time based on church service time, we found only sketchy outlines of regularly scheduled Mass. Finally, I found a blog, written by someone who actually said that his favorite Easter celebration in the world is the one in Florence. Finally. He went on to say that the Exploding Cart ceremony begins at noon on Easter Sunday. Then we actually confirmed noon in the fine print of a small article in the local newspaper.

So about 10:30 we climbed into the car and headed into town. Arriving at our favorite parking space, we each grabbed a camera and began the 10 minute walk to the main Piazza. On the way, we came to a coffee bar (notice a theme?) and since we were early, stopped in for a coffee and pastry. Then on we sauntered toward the Duomo.

At 11 am we heard the bells begin to ring, so concluded that the festivities were about to begin. We approached the drumming in the Piazza, and joined the crowd to watch costumed characters parade by. I snapped still photos, while Em videoed the excitement, the cadence of the parade, and the crowds lining the street. There were flag tossers in 15th century brightly colored outfits. There were archers with crossbows. Strangely though, most of the paraders wore little slippers that were no doubt worn in the 15th century, but hardly offered adequate foot support for this multi-kilometer march.

Finally, we worked our way around the corner and started closing in on the Piazza. I looked back and saw Em go up some steps to get a better shot with the video camera. Perfect!

Then a strange thing happened. Rather than the cart beginning its firework display, it began moving AWAY from the Piazza, toward a side street. What?! The throng of celebrants were shoulder-to-shoulder, everybody pressed in for a better view. Then we got it. The ceremony was OVER! We’d missed it. Em joined me in the crowd and turned to a fellow celebrant, “When were the fireworks?” he asked. “About half an hour ago,” was the answer. Half an hour ago. Wait. That meant that the 11 am bells we had heard signaled the END of the ceremony, not the beginning. Thanks for the accurate reporting Mr. My Favorite Easter Tradition is in Florence blogger. Way to go!

So we shook our heads and looked at each other with dismay. We both knew what had happened. We were foiled again by that quirky flex-time. That uniquely Italian way of doing what they do WHEN they do it. Not before, not after. Just so.

Oh well. What could we do? So we laughed at our mistake. To reclaim the day, we walked through Florence. Stunning. Fascinating. We love this city. We stopped at the Chiesa Santissimi Apostali, where the parade had begun and the original fire for the cart was lit. Wandering the streets and alleyways of Florence is always delightful.

Then off to lunch we went, knowing we were arriving a full hour before the officially designated time. But why not? This is Italy after all.

If you want to check out the Easter festivities in more detail, read the history behind the event on our blog, In Touch in Tuscany (linked site below). We’ve also included a link to our video—of course, without the explosion!

also included a link to our video—of course, without the explosion!

Posted on April 30, 2011

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