CHAPTER 3
I think the reason we love Italy, and Europe in general, so much, is tradition. The place is steeped in it. And even through centuries of wars, and plagues and political upheavals of every kind they somehow manage to keep their traditions alive and strong. I know we have a few good ones in the states, the recent running of the Kentucky Derby comes to mind, but even that is a mere baby compared to what Europe can put up for offer. Drawing from the realm of horse racing for comparison sake, the bareback riders of Il Palio have been pounding their hooves around the streets of Siena since medieval times, a good two centuries before the equine was even reintroduced to the Americas. And it was to take part in this ancient tradition that we were so eager to return to our favorite Italian city.
The race consists of ten horses assigned by lottery to 10 of the 17 contradas, or neighborhoods, of the city. Each contrada chooses their brashest young man to act as jokey, but in the end, the only thing that matters is which horse crosses the finish line first, with the rider still mounted or not. The winning horse claims Il Palio, a large ornate banner, as a spoil of victory- but the gloating rights that come with the banner are even more important to the contrada. The track is constructed by barricading off the outer ring of the main Plaza del Campo, and trucking in tons of dirt and sand for the horses to run on. Inside this ring stand thousands of spectators, each craning their necks to try for a glance of the horses as they race by. Around the outside of the track are steep bleachers erected along the faces of every building, indeed they completely cover every storefront. These seats are expensive to reserve, and are definitely a big step up from the free inner circle, but the real vip experience is to watch the race from a window or private balcony of one of the many apartments in the buildings surrounding the plaza.
The thrifty travelers we are, we took our spot squarely in the masses of plebeians, as close to the track as we could elbow, but seeing as we got there only a mere four hours before the race, there was already a crowd 8 or 10 deep staking out the rail. There is a lot of pomp and ceremony that goes on before the horses even make their appearance, conveniently about four hours of it, so we were well entertained while we waited for the main event- and luckily, we had the foresight to bring along our cache of “free” wine that we pilfered from the leftovers of the previous night’s block party, in plastic water bottles to be discreet, which kept the time running smoothly as we lingered under the hot Tuscan sun.
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