Palio fever!

Last weekend, Matt and I went to Siena to see il Palio, the horse race in which each neighborhood (contrada) races for glory, bragging rights, and a large banner (called il Palio). We met up with Ron Herzman, professor friend extraordinaire, who runs an NEH seminar on Dante in Siena all summer. Siena was out in full colors, with each contrada displaying flags, marching through the streets with drums and costumes -- of which I hope Matt will post some pictures here when he has a moment:


The Palio itself was dedicated to PIUS II! Whom Reggie can't stop talking about, incidentally. I hope to have some pictures up of the banner.


The contrada dinner (cena) was the night before. Since naturally we are all fans of ONDA (though our favorite restaurant is in the enemy contrada of Torre), we went to their dinner, which was AMAZING -- 1,100 people were served in the streets of ONDA alone (there are about 17 contrade). Bresaola with cheese started us off, followed by saffron risotto and then ravioli, then beef filet with chianti sauce and something that was like mashed potatoes, finally torte and prosecco. So good!

The next day we awoke to drums (drums in the deep) and watched the parade and went to stand in the square with 60,000 of our closest Sienese friends and wait for the race. The race itself is documented sporatically from the 13th century, and documented well from the 17th century on. It takes place in the main square, which is relatively small for 10 horses and sort of the shape of a croissant. If you spread your fingers of your right hand out, imagine that the Palazzo is at your wrist and that we are standing in the center, with the horses running clockwise around the edges of your fingers for three laps. Notice that your pinky is therefore a very dangerous acute angle of which we had a fabulous view, as we were standing where your thumb is and the square dips down in the center.

And what a race! It was brutal. First of all, it is extremely dangerous from just about every angle -- there are no stalls or lanes for the horses, the jockeys are sardinian mercenaries who have been paid off (by other contradas) to knock other jockeys off the horses, and they're riding according to tradition: bareback, no stirrups, and goading the horse with a lengthened dried calf's penis. There are enemy contradas who would give just about anything to make sure their opponent doesn't win. And this year, it was extra excruciating. First, there were 2 false starts (the canon goes off to tell everyone to come back) -- so everyone was extra pumped up and impatient. The Torre horse threw a shoe in the first false start and so it had to be put back on (to which Matt said, 'Too bad - someone paid good money to have it put on wrong in the first place'). Then, at that dangerous pinky corner, there were 3 crashes in the three laps of the race. Three jockeys went down, two of whom lost conciousness on the track and of those one was trampled and dragged about 10 feet. (The papers the next day said he was alive, with broken limbs and 'facial trauma'...) Bruco won - the catepillar.

Anyway, it was pretty awesome all in all. It can seem really brutal to tourists who come visit, because it's not meant for tourists at all -- but I think that's why I like it, because it's not 'put on' for show - they're playing for keeps.