Il Palio di Siena

It all started out as an ordinary day, much like any other Sunday, but ended like this:



Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? After a fun Saturday evening, celebrating a friend’s Birthday at his orto, I seized the chance to sleep in on Sunday. When I finally got around to rolling out of bed at 11:00am, I checked the train schedule and settled on the 12:45pm train. I would leave from Pontedera and change in Empoli before heading on to my final destination –Il Palio in Siena!

Having just recently finished reading Too Much Tuscan Sun by Dario Castagno, I was vaguely familiar with the concept of Il Palio, a horse race held twice each year on July 2 and August 16 in Siena. Seventeen Contrada (neighborhoods/regions), each identified by bizarre mascots such as Bruco (caterpillar), Giraffa (giraffe) and Istrice (porcupine), all hope to earn one of ten spots in the race where they compete for Il Palio flag. While the flag is the tangible reward, from what I witnessed, bragging rights are the more coveted prize.

I made it in to Siena without any trouble. From what I read online, more than 75,000 people flock to the city for this annual event. I was expecting a crowded train ride, but I easily found a seat and read my latest pink cover, summer book the entire ride. Even after I got off the train and made my way to a bus that took me to the city center, I still found myself wondering where everyone was… It didn’t take me long to hear some commotion in the distance though. Following Rick Steve’s instructions, I headed towards the medieval drumming.

As I got closer to the Duomo, I saw more flags representing various Contrada. As I was minding my own business, admiring a small square tucked out of the way, a procession of Civetta (little owl) flag bearers and supporters paraded in. I lucked out with a prime, front row spot for the display and watched the Civetta toss their flags in to the air and listened to them chant their team song. As it turns out, the Civetta horse and jockey would go on to win the race later that evening! I was in the midst of celebrity and didn’t even realize it.



I followed the Civetta crowd the rest of the way to the Duomo where I met up with a group of friends from Camp Darby. Thank goodness for the one guy in the group who had the foresight to wear a red and white striped shirt. He stood out in the crowd of thousands and it literally became a game of Where’s Waldo?

We spent a long time in front of the Duomo watching the pageant, each team processing in to the square, banging drums and hurling their Contrada flags as high in the air as is humanly possible. After each team had their turn, the group of already sweaty Americans made our way towards Il Campo, the square where the race is held. Internet reports vary, but I’ve read anywhere from 15,000 to 75,000 people cram in to Il Campo every year to witness the 90 second race. We staked out our spots by the start/finish line around 4:30pm, and by the time the square was sealed off (the race track encircles the square – after 5:30pm, no one can come or go as you would have to traipse across the track) it certainly felt like I was surrounded by 75,000 people.

With almost 2 hours to kill before the start of the race, we each grabbed a piece of newspaper from the ground and settled in for the wait. The longer we waited, the more crowded it got. The more crowded it got, the warmer it got. The warmer it got, the smellier some of the spectators got… Ew! Our neighbors had the right idea and packed Connect Four. They entertained themselves with the game until things started to pick up around 7:00pm.



At 7:00pm on the dot (impressive for anything in Italy to start on time!) a big cart, pulled by two ox, entered the square and made its way around the track, displaying the Il Palio flag that would soon belong to the victors. Shortly thereafter, the horses and their riders entered the square and the announcer drew their positions. I’m still a little fuzzy on the details, but the way I understand the rules are this: each horse lines up in order, from first to last. The last horse hangs in the back, while the other horses all vie for a spot in the front. In order to get in these positions, the horses’ riders are not above punching, kicking, screaming and spitting at their opponents. Especially if said opponent is from an enemy Contrada. Any time a horse other than the very last horse in the back crosses the start line, it is considered a false start and everyone has to line up again. Thus, more kicking, hitting, yelling, etc. ensues. It took an hour and a half for the 90 second race to begin. Let me repeat that for those of you who might just be glazing over my story at this point…

IT TOOK AN HOUR AND A HALF. WE HAD ALREADY BEEN STANDING IN THE SQUARE FOR 3 HOURS. ALL FOR A 90 SECOND RACE.

All the while, the crowd is taunting their enemy Contrada, yelling out abuses such as, “You stupid Giraffe! You ruined the start.” Or, “Drop out now you horrible Snail. The Goose will never let you win!” During the race, two jockeys were thrown from their horses at particularly treacherous turns in the Piazza. The horses finished the race without their riders, not an uncommon occurrence. In fact, the passionate Italian gentleman (his Contrada was not even racing, he was just there to make sure his enemy, the Leocorno [unicorn] did not win) behind us, informed me that several years ago, the winning horse did so after he bucked his rider off during the first lap around the track.

Once the race began, it was over in a flash and the Civetta was victorious. Spectators rushed the track, screaming and yelling. My group, on the other hand, ran as far away from the piazza as possible, as quickly as possible, but not before getting caught up in the celebration and squished against the race track fence first.

The Civetta celebration continued in the streets for the victors as they paraded their prize, Il Palio flag down the winding roads of Siena, but even more intriguing was the reaction of the losers. Grown men sobbed and wept. For me, Il Palio was an exciting way to spend a Sunday afternoon/evening, but for the Italian locals in the audience, I realized Il Palio is an event rooted in rich traditions and deep history. The race itself dates back to the 16th Century. After experiencing the energy and electricity in the piazza, I can tell why it would be so easy to get so caught up in the results of the amazing Il Palio.

Next year, I’m rooting for Capitana dell’ Onda, not because of any real allegiance to the neighborhood, but because I think their flag is super cute!

Hot Days, Quiet Nights

My life in Italy has slowed down in direct proportion to the heat recently. It's difficult to find motivation to sight see when temperatures reach 38-degrees (that's over 100-degrees for all you Westerners still using fahrenheit) and the ancient buildings in Italy don't support central air conditioning. As a result, I spend most of my time away from work sitting in front of the fan at home, reading or lying on the beach.

I did have a small, personal victory last week when I used a lawn mower for the very first time. Yes, it is an electric lawn mower. Yes, it kind of looks like a child's toy. And, yes, my lawn is so small it took me more time to figure out how to start the mower than to actually cut the grass. BUT, I mowed a lawn. For the first time in 27-years. Let me revel in that for a moment.

Since my grass was freshly cut, I decided that was as good an excuse as any to host a garden party this weekend. Friday night, I had friends from Darby over for homemade Sangria and general merriment in my backyard. I've always heard the cheaper the wine, the better the Sangria, and I proved that theory right this weekend. At 2-euro for an entire litre, I might have found the cheapest wine in all of Tuscany, but it made for the most amazing Sangria. I think I've said it before, but I'm so lucky to have found such a great network of friends at Darby. While I'm not ready to call Ponsacco home yet, I felt so comfortable hanging out in the yard, under the Italian starry night sky, surrounded by friends with Sangria in hand.

July also brought a wonderful visit from Heather and Jaidi -- my first official non-family visitors. They were all set to be my first visitors, period, but mom trumped them when she slid in the late June/early July visit. I feel like they still deserve a title though, so "First Official Non-family Visitors" it is! They were in Europe for a wedding in Amsterdam and made it down to Italy to visit me for a few days. While here, they had the chance see Florence and Cinque Terra (while I reported to work, jealous of their big adventures) and we all whiled away the evenings in Tuscany over red wine and great food in some of my favorite restaurants. Dinner the first night in Ponsacco gave us all strange dreams. Beware the raw, cured meat!






Somehow I only landed in one
photo the entire visit.




On the work front, we've stayed busy this summer with volunteer interviews and trainings (more than 30 new Overseas Committee Chairs trained!), compiling the summer mailing, a complete website overhaul and preparing for our Fall site visits. Now, it's like the calm before the storm -- I'll be in Italy until the middle of September (with a visit from Paige!) and then the non-stop travel hits. Starting September 18th, I'll be in Germany for a week and a half, Portugal for 2 weeks, the UK for 2 weeks and then back to Germany for another 2 weeks. That insane schedule will carry me through the middle of November when I'll then take off again for the States and what will most certainly be a much needed visit home.

My dad tells me that the travel will take its toll. He travelled all over the world for years with IBM so I'm pretty sure he knows what he's talking about. But for now, I'm looking forward to seeing the different bases/posts and meeting my volunteers that I've only talked to on the phone/emailed. Ask me again in October though, when I'm out of clean clothes, haven't had a home cooked meal in weeks and can't even remember what city I'm in and you might get a different answer...

Mama Mia

My mom’s visit was such a whirlwind of a week, I still can’t believe she’s already come and gone. Since pictures tell a thousand stories, let’s recap with a photo montage.

Friday:
Mom arrives and we swing through Pisa on our way to Carol and Larry’s house for a cook-out.



Saturday:
I navigate the Italian train system all by myself for the first time and get us to Florence without any problems. Sadly, I didn’t check on reservations for the Uffizi or the Academia in time, so we just ride the big, red tourist bus and marvel at the city’s history from afar. We’ll catch the museums and galleries in December!



Sunday:
Facing a few choices (San Gimiginano, Lucca, Sienna, Montepulciano) mom chooses San Gimiginano. Fine by me as I have only been through the city for about 5 minutes after the wine tasting adventure in April. The city is pretty touristy, but still a sight to see, and I pick up more of my favorite wine from Tollena.

Truth be told, I think the drive alone is worth it. Some of my favorite views are here in the backroads of Tuscany.


That's San Gimiginano in the distance.

Monday:
Venice! Enough said.



Tuesday and Wednesday:
I work while mom rests up for Cinque Terra. She is kind enough to do my dishes, scrub the lime (caused by the incredibly hard water in Italy) off every surface in my house and pack me lunches while I go in to the office.

Tuesday night, we go to Il Conventino, my favorite agriturismo in Calci, and enjoy the most amazing meal of cheese and honey, polenta, barley salad, bruschetta, cured meats, ravioli with figs, gnocchi, wild boar tagliatelle...



Thursday:
Happy Birthday, mom! We start the afternoon sweating our guts out in Cinque Terra, but it is all worth it for views like this…



That night, we celebrate mom’s birthday with drinks (beer for me, Long Island Ice Tea for mom) at Fast Bar in Monterroso – town #5 in Cinque Terra. The bar is decorated with American dollar bills. Not wanting to be left out, we add to the collection.



Friday:
Spend the morning exploring Monterroso before heading back to my house. I pay rent a few days early so mom can meet Bimbi. She gives us gelato and declares “Que disastre!” after 10 minutes of us speaking to her in English with crazy hand gestures and her speaking to us in Italian. We discover a great pizzeria in downtown Ponsacco that night and stumble across a large (for Ponsacco’s standards) festival and outdoor concert.

This is also the day mom discovers a lizard hanging out on the ceiling in my kitchen and consequently, the day I vow never to sleep with my screens open again. After a serious girl moment, complete with screeching and an oh-my-gosh-there-is-a-lizard-in-my-house dance, we manage to get the little guy to safety, i.e. my back yard.

Saturday:
Sadly, I deliver mom to the airport this morning. And, as a testament to just how exciting life can be when there are no visitors around, I spend my entire day doing one load of laundry after another… And, I’m still only halfway through the pile.

La Luminara

Last week, I ventured in to Pisa with ITR for my first Luminara experience. Every year on the 16th of June, buildings along the Arno River in Pisa are lit up with more than seventy thousand candles in honor of Saint Ranieri and all of Italy seems to come out to take part in the celebrations.

The event was fun, the candle-lit buildings were beautiful and the fireworks were dazzling but I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people in one relatively small space in my entire life. (Not even when I stumbled across Pink Day in Amsterdam.) Walking across the 300-foot bridge after the firework display took an hour in the sea of people all trying to leave the city centre. I’ve never been touched, literally, by so many Italians.

Here are a few photos that capture the event. More to follow.

Work Stuff

I realized the importance of the work I do about 3 days in to my site visits in Germany. After a busy training in Heidelberg, we loaded into the rental car and took off for Bamberg and Schweinfurt, worlds apart from the life I know in Italy. At Darby, although there are complaints about how small the base is and how little action anyone sees, soldiers here are generally happy go lucky and relaxed. Things are different in Germany. In Bamberg and Schweinfurt, everyone is on edge, and there is a sense of overwhelming panic and doom lingering in the air everywhere you go – from the Taco Bell (yes, there is a Taco Bell) to the barracks, everyone seems to be waiting for the inevitable bad news that is always on the way.

The communities I visited are facing the murder of 5 soldiers at the hand of another solider, severe mental illness, the suicide of an officer’s wife in her home on base, a fatal car accident involving soldiers just home from Iraq… And all of that just in the one week I was in town.

So, the bad news is, children in these areas, already pulled thousands of miles away from their home, are surrounded by death and destruction every day. The good news is, while seemingly insignificant in the grand scheme of things, Girl Scouts provides some sense of normalcy in these girls’ lives when everything (and often times, everyone) else around them is going to hell. And faith in that fact is what gets me through the hardest days over here…

I know this isn’t the update on Germany you were probably looking for, but I wanted to share a little bit about the work we’re doing over here, in between tales of my latest and greatest vacations. Don’t worry though, I’ll give a full run down of just how cool Heidelberg is, complete with photos from the castle illumination and fireworks display we caught on Saturday night in the next edition.

Between the Then and Now

It has certainly been a while since my last update! So long, in fact, that I’m starting to get hate mail. The last few weeks have been very busy. I’m going to attempt to hit the highlights…

*******************************************************************************

Several weeks ago, after receiving my loaner furniture from CFMO, I invited a few friends over for dinner with the hidden agenda of talking the boys in to putting together my Ikea furniture. As I started cooking, and went to open a can of tomatoes, I realized that I did not have a can opener. Rachel convinced me to ring my landlady’s bell and ask, via hand gestures, if we could borrow one. As I had predicted, Bimbi invited us upstairs and instructed us to sit, pouring 3 tall glasses of orange juice. She dug out a very rusty can opener and tried to show us how to use it. She was holding the can still while trying to turn the opener, but we couldn’t explain to her what she was doing wrong. When she walked out with a long, sharp knife, I assume to pry open the can, Rachel snatched the tomatoes and the opener away from her and quickly showed her the correct protocol for opening cans. Bimbi sent me home with the opener.

*******************************************************************************

Memorial Day weekend, I took a spur-of-the-moment trip to the UK to see the Counting Crows. I flew Ryan Air from Pisa to London Stansted. I was all set to be able to catch a train from Stansted to Brighton (about a 3 hour ride) and arrive right on time to catch the opening act. I should have known better. My flight left Pisa a few minutes after we were initially due to be landing in London. I de-boarded the plane at 6pm and debated for a few minutes if it was worth it to try for Brighton. Not easily deterred, I made my way to the train station, where the attendant selling tickets laughed at me when I told him my plans to make it to Brighton and back the same night. I climbed aboard the first train around 6:30pm and after 2 changes and a short taxi ride, made it to the concert hall by 9pm. Although they were already playing when I arrived, the Counting Crows played until 11pm, so I don’t think I missed more than 20 or 30 minutes of the show.

After the concert, as I was walking up the main street in Brighton, I came across a real life street fight. I’m embarrassed to admit that I stopped and watched for at least 10 minutes. Eventually, I pried myself away from all the action and made my way back to London, only to find that the Victoria Underground station was closed – 1am seems like as good a time as any to figure out the London bus system! After asking a few passerbys for advice, I landed on what I hoped was the bus that would take me to the general vicinity of Pax Lodge. The ride proved uneventful until Tony, a very friendly and very drunk Brit took advantage of the empty seat next to me. After I turned down his numerous invitations to join him at the Jazz Club, he gave me his phone number with directions to, “give him a ring and stop in with some hens” the next time I find myself in London. Sorry, Tony, but I “lost” your number the minute you got off the bus.

The next morning, I woke up to a dreary and rainy London. My plans to sight see officially rained out, I arraigned to have lunch with two volunteers in Alconbury. A good decision! They introduced me to the pink pub, where I enjoyed my first Strongbow of this trip and took me on a tour of Alconbury, only the third base I’ve been on after Fort Jackson in SC and beautiful Camp Darby.

I was supposed to fly out of Stansted at 6pm, and arrive in Pisa around 9pm. Once again, my Ryan Air flight was delayed (timeliest air line, my butt) and we didn’t take off until well after 7pm. We landed sometime around midnight, and I was home and in bed by 1am.

*******************************************************************************

The last weekend in May, I escaped my house and the grasp of my homework (I’m in a 6 week course, Financial Management for Nonprofit Organizations, that is consuming my days) long enough to venture in to Lari with a group of friends for the Cherry Festival. Lari is a small, charming city, about 20 minutes from my house in the rolling hills of the Tuscany region. From what others tell me, it is usually quiet and rarely busy. During the Cherry Festival, however, hundreds of people descend on the town to partake in the wonderful, locally grown cherries, shop at the small market and watch the live entertainment. While we were there Sunday afternoon, a live production of Pinocchio was happening. It took us a minute to figure it out as the dialogue was all Italian, but eventually the giant whale prop and the small boy with the long wooden nose gave it away…



Between watching Pinocchio and shopping with the local vendors, we all bought a paper cone full of fresh cherries and munched as we wandered around. Just like some steak houses in the States where you chuck peanut shells on the floor, when finished with a cherry, we spit the seeds and threw the stem on the ground. The cobble stone streets were slippery with slimy, discarded cherry pits.

After gorging ourselves on cherries, we loaded up and caravanned to a near-by Italian restaurant where we lingered for hours over red wine, and lamented our return to work the next day.

*******************************************************************************

This week, I’ve been all over Germany. We drove from Italy, through Switzerland to Heidelberg on Thursday. The drive alone is enough to warrant a blog entry all its own (as beautiful as you might be imagining the Alpine scenery, multiply that by about 10 and you’re getting hotter), so I’m going to leave all that for another time. I just checked in to the Bradley Inn at Schweinfurt – third hotel I’ve had the pleasure of staying in over the last week, sadly, not the last one this trip – and discovered my room has a big bath tub. So, I’m going to soak.

Capraia

We’re a few days removed from my last big adventure to Capraia, but it was so amazing, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble recounting the trip here…

This story picks up right where my last blog left off. I got my hair cut Friday afternoon, and went to a late dinner with friends. After a quick conversation with Josh when I got home, it was 2am before I made it to bed. Only a problem when the alarm clock is set for 6am the next morning. An auspicious start to the vacation, but well worth it in the long run.

Only 4 hours after going to bed, my cell phone alarm clock (which I’ve already come to hate) sounded and I jumped out of bed. I had a lot to do – shower, pack, get dressed, drive to Rachel’s – in a short amount of time. As an aside, packing while half asleep with only 10 minutes to spare is always a poor choice. I forgot a lot of essentials such as sun screen, deodorant and pajamas. It was a short weekend, and I was able to make due, but it certainly would have been nice to have something to sleep in.

Rachel, Joanna and I made it to the ferry that would carry us to paradise by 8am. We bought our tickets “andato e return, per favore,” parked the car (we probably should have walked) and climbed aboard. After a 2 hour ride west, away from Livorno, Capraia loomed. As we pulled up to port, this outstanding view greeted us.

Once we were off the boat, we didn’t have to walk very far to find our apartment. A co-worker recommended Sol Mar to us, and we were thrilled with the recommendation as soon as we saw the accommodations. Our home away from home for the weekend had 3 floors – an entry way on the first floor, a bedroom, the bathroom and the living/dining space on the second floor and another bedroom in the loft on the third floor. From the balcony on the second floor, we had a great view of the port and the town just up the hill. See?

After a quick lunch at port, we wandered in to town. Just in time to find everything closing down for the infamous Italian 3 hour siesta. Since nothing was open after 1300, we wandered to a handful of old buildings – churches, castles and a monastery - before finding our way down to the water. The island is very rocky and all sheer cliffs down to the water, so we felt proud for finding a place where we could actually dip our toes in the water.

That evening, after a power nap (we were all exhausted from the early morning wake up, the walking and the sun) we wandered back in to town for dinner. My favorite moment from the whole weekend was wandering back to port after dinner, full of great Italian food, under the clear night sky full of stars with the cool ocean breeze on our sun kissed skin. Towns can be so different at night, after the tourists go home, and Capraia, already a quiet place to begin with, seemed to be sleeping as we walked back to the apartment.

The next morning, we all slept in, a welcome relief and as it should be when you’re on vacation. We left the apartment in time for lunch before we started our short hike. There are amazing trails all across the island – enough to keep an avid hiker busy for weeks. In the 2 hours that we had to explore before our boat ride around the island, we hardly scratched the surface.

We were lucky to get the appointment for the taxi boat ride around Capraia. It normally takes 7 people for the driver to take a boat out, but they made an exception for our group of 6 – Joanna, Rachel and myself, plus one guy from Florence that spoke English and a couple that didn’t look up from each other long enough for me to learn anything about them… We set off in the little plastic boat and made a full loop around the island. With our periodic stops at the most amazing grottos (caves) it took us a little over 2 hours to make the full circle. From the boat, we saw amazing views of the island. It was so uninhabited and untouched, Joanna and I joked that we expected a terodactyl to come swooping over a peak any second.

Monday morning, we set our alarm to wake up in time to play in the water for a few minutes. Still a little wary of the ocean, I sat on the rocks with a book and watched Joanna and Rachel swim. It was hotter on Monday than it had been the days before, so I went in early to shower off the sweat and sunscreen. When we were all packed up and ready to leave, we went to find the manager to pay. To our surprise, his credit card machine was not working. (In hindsight, it makes perfect sense that a credit card machine on an island in the middle of nowhere might prove a bit temperamental.) We were able to scrounge up enough cash to pay the bill. Rachel had a lot of American money and Joanna and I kept handing him euro change until he said, “Enough! No more money!”

Sad to be leaving, we boarded the boat and took off for Livorno and back to real life. Tomorrow, I set out for another mini-adventure full of planes, trains and automobiles as I travel from Pisa to London to Brighton to London again and then back to Pisa all in less than 48-hours.