“Natale con i tuoi, Pasqua con chi vuoi” is the most famous Italian saying for Easter, and a phrase that’s addressed in probably every single blog on ‘How do Italians celebrate Easter?’ It simply means that you celebrate Christmas with your parents (“i tuoi”, which literally means “yours”), and Easter with whoever you want (“con chi vuoi”). I remember so very well how I wrote in last year’s blog about Easter that this statement would get a slightly different interpretation. Because last year, celebrating Easter “with whom you want” became celebrating Easter with whoever you happened to be locked up with during the strict lockdown, whether you were happy about it or not.
Thank God, the zona rossa in which we find ourselves at the moment turns out to be a little different in practice
That all-encompassing lockdown with hardly any nuances of last year has now been transformed into a multi-layered system with different colours that indicate the status of the lockdown. From zona bianca (white zone), where hardly any restrictions apply and that Sardinia already got to enjoy for a short period of time, to zona rossa (red zone), where – theoretically – you are doomed to stay indoors. But thank God, the zona rossa in which we find ourselves at the moment turns out to be a little different in practice.
When last Saturday I read the headline in the national Dutch news that “Italy is tightening the reins and the whole country is going into a national lockdown over the Easter weekend”, I just happened to walk out of the coffee place in my street. I literally had to work my way through the crowd outside
When last Saturday I read the headline in the national Dutch news that “Italy is tightening the reins and the whole country is going into a national lockdown over the Easter weekend”, I just happened to walk out of the coffee place in my street. I literally had to work my way through the crowd outside, some in line for the pasticceria and others chitchatting while standing close to each other on the pavement. On Sunday and also today – the day that’s called Pasquetta in Italy – I saw many happy Easter scenes on social media. It seems that a lot of Italians have spent the holidays with family and friends. And they legally could, as there was an exception to the strict zona rossa rules: over Easter, people were allowed to visit one other household. However, it didn’t prevent Easter to still be different this year. Not in the least because one very important Roman Easter tradition did not take place: the Dutch flowers for the Pope.
A 35-year-old tradition that has been broken for the second year in a row. And all due to the fact zona rossa coloured the whole of Italy red. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the red of roses
That beautiful sea of flowers covering the entire Vatican Square. The perfect example of what a small country like the Netherlands is great at. Or rather: what a small village is great at. Because Mister Flower the chief florist himself – or rather ‘floral designer’ – comes from a village only a few kilometres from my parents’ house. As chief arranger of the floral splendour in front of St Peter’s, it’s with flair that he has been taking care of the papal fiori for quite some years now. But since the Vatican Square unfortunately had to remain empty during the Urbi et Orbi of the Pope, those thousands and thousands of Dutch flowers didn’t find their way to Rome this year. A 35-year-old tradition that has been broken for the second year in a row. And all due to the fact zona rossa coloured the whole of Italy red. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the red of roses.
While last year, the twenty thousand roses that were intended for the Vatican were distributed in Dutch nursing homes, the residents of Italian nursing homes now received the same honour. It is said that the Italian nonni were over the moon
But despite the empty Vatican Square, no less than twenty thousand roses were transported by truck from the Netherlands to Italy last week. It was personally arranged by the Dutch floral designer as a generous gift, because in these difficult times he still wanted to do something for Italy and the city of Rome. While last year, the twenty thousand roses that were intended for the Vatican were distributed in Dutch nursing homes where the gesture was very much appreciated, the residents of Italian nursing homes now received the same honour. It is said that the Italian nonni, most of them convinced Catholics of course, were over the moon when they received “the roses of the Pope”. They were white Avelanche roses, which were also used to decorate the altar at St. Peter’s. Twenty-thousand white Avelanche roses as a sign of new life and a new spring, while at the same time symbolising hope, purity, strength, solidarity and modesty.
Immediately, the white colour of the flowers took on an extra meaning for me. Because of course we wouldn’t send red coloured roses from the Netherlands to a country that finds itself in the now so despised zona rossa for the umpteenth time
However, when I looked at the photos accompanying the news articles and saw the plenty white (and light pink) roses – which were blessed by the bishop before their long journey took off – I was a little surprised. White roses! Call it cliché, but when I think of roses I automatically think of those red ones. Immediately, the white colour of the flowers took on an extra meaning for me. Because of course we wouldn’t send red coloured roses from the Netherlands to a country that finds itself in the now so despised zona rossa for the umpteenth time. Because if white roses are a symbol of a new beginning, they are also a symbol of la zona bianca, the white zone that we so much hope to find ourselves in very soon. The zone in which we will be eating out again with at least twenty people at a long table. The zone in which we can celebrate our birthdays largely, and endlessly stroll around in tiny, but oh so cosy boutiques. But above all, the zone in which it is safe again to visit our grandpa, grandma, elderly neighbour or great-aunt in a nursery home. To visit those nonni who now have a white Avalanche rose from the Netherlands on their windowsill. Bedankt voor die blumen.