Celebrating Santa Zita this year took us away from the well-known flower market in Lucca’s city centre and instead up into the hills, to Monsagrati Alto, traditionally associated with the saint’s local devotional landscape.
The small chapel dedicated to Santa Zita, recently restored after having fallen into serious disrepair, is not far from the heart of the village. It sits just a short walk from the main cluster of houses, close enough to feel part of everyday life rather than something isolated or remote. The restoration has brought it back into use in a careful way, stabilising the structure while keeping its modest, aged character intact.
Compared with Lucca, the atmosphere was immediately different. There was no urban spectacle, no dense crowd, and no sense of performance. Instead, everything felt rooted in the village itself, shaped by its rhythm and surroundings.
We spent most of our time around the church area, which had been beautifully decorated with flowers for the occasion. Inside, the stone space was softened by fresh arrangements, clearly prepared by local hands. It felt simple and sincere—more an act of care than display.
Outside, a small handicraft market filled part of the space near the church and along the approach to it. There were handmade goods, local products, and simple stalls that reflected the character of the area. It felt like something created for the community first, with visitors gently included rather than targeted.
Food was an important part of the day. Among the homemade cakes and savoury dishes, we especially enjoyed a spinach and herb cake, a traditional Tuscan speciality. It was simple but full of flavour—earthy greens in a soft rustic base—and it suited the setting perfectly. Everything about the food felt homemade and shared, rather than presented.
As the afternoon moved towards evening, a local band arrived to prepare for the procession. Their enthusiasm was unmistakable—even if the tuning occasionally wasn’t quite there. It added a charming imperfection to the moment, the kind that belongs to village celebrations rather than formal performances. There was a slow, unforced build-up: people gathering, instruments sounding out, conversations continuing. Nothing felt staged, only gradually unfolding.
Compared with the more famous celebration in Lucca’s city centre, Monsagrati Alto felt smaller and quieter, but also more grounded. It did not feel designed for visitors or spectacle, but like a tradition continuing naturally within its own place.
What stayed with us most was the sincerity of it all. The celebration of Santa Zita here was not something performed—it was something lived, through flowers, food, music, and the steady rhythm of a village returning to its chapel each year.
Festeggiando Santa Zita. Ma non al mercato dei fiori nell’anfiteatro di Lucca. Eravamo invece a Monsagrati Alto, luogo di nascita della santa. Chiesa splendidamente fiorita, mercato artigianale, dolci deliziosi e l’arrivo della banda musicale per la processione serale… un po’ meno spettacolare e affollata della festa di Lucca, ma forse più genuinamente sentita.