Fireworks in Fiesole

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We decided to give Monaco a miss and press on to Italy, so we could have a more leisurely drive into Umbria on Thursday. The high mountain road and a traffic jam combined to give us a fine view of the principality from above.

Once we crossed the border into Italy, with no stop for any passport formalities, we took to the autostrade. For several hours we passed alternately over high bridges and through tunnels in the mountains, alongside a seemingly endless procession of articulated lorries.

Late in the afternoon, we left the motorway a few miles before Firenze, to look for a rural hotel, but found ourselves passing through a flat landscape of characterless villages. We resolved to venture into the city, knowing that the centre would be closed to traffic but hoping to come across somewhere to stay on the outskirts. By the time we reached the central railway station, we were in chaotic traffic. We made for Fiesole but an unclear signpost led us back into the log jam.

We reached Fiesole around 730 pm. There were firemen in the town square. A sign for parking took us down a side street towards the amphitheatre, but the road was cordoned off. We assumed there had been a fire, and turned back to descend round the hill to a hotel that we'd noticed on the way up.

The Villa Fiesole offered us its last room. It was small and had no view, but it was well furnished and quiet, so we readily accepted. As the hotel restaurant wasn't able to accommodate us, we set off on foot for the town. It's a perilous ascent with fast traffic and no footpath.

The hotel receptionist had told us there would be fireworks at 10pm, which explained the presence of the fire brigade. After dinner on the terrace of the Aurora hotel, looking down to Firenze with the Duomo framed by tall trees on the hillside, we walked out to find that the square had become a sea of people. They ambled, sat on steps, manoeuvred on Vespas, bought balloons and white candy floss, lingered to listen to a brass band. Just after 10pm, the relaxed mood turned to one of anticipation. Figures appeared silhouetted on balconies, a couple asked a policeman where they'd get the best view. Behind the museum, a rocket hurtled skyward and burst, signalling the start of a long and exuberant display. At one point, the campanile seemed to be on fire, red smoke pouring into the night sky. Catherine wheels spun colours on the terrace of the museum. The finale was a bright shower of multiple white starbursts over the town. On the descent, the pedestrians owned the road.

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