A horse, a horse, my (medieval) kingdom for a horse!!!!

(The Grubs always seem to win)

SPECIAL NOTE – For those who like horses, and even for those who would like to hear about a very special Douglas experience – you are going to have to be persistent on this one.  There is good stuff towards the end.  PS – don’t jump to the end now – won’t work!!!

The most recent blog highlighted the value of having visitors in Rome.  And we were certainly blessed there.

After the post-wedding traffic of sons numbers two and three came Julie and Clare, and later the newly-weds themselves, Lachlan and Emily Douglas.

Julie and Clare proved themselves to be enthusiastic “Italophiles” – indeed Clare took herself on what seems to have been an ideal tour of Italy with a small (adventurous) group and spent about a week with us in a couple of stints.

Julie opted for the full-immersion, Cathy & Ian guided tour of Rome and environs, for the full three weeks and graduated as valedictorian, even eventually venturing solo to the neighbouring Testaccio to successfully joust with the marketeers.  In addition to seeing the standard sites, we were able share with them many of the local treasures and we think (hope) that they returned safely to Australia with a certain affection for this fascinating country.

Ian had a premature farewell to the girls (indeed before Clare’s return from her tour) because of a work trip to Turkey.  That trip was both a thrill and a disappointment.  The trip went really well but it was to Ankara.  Ian departed with images of Egypt in his mind but had not done his homework.  Ankara is modern Turkey’s version of Canberra – the seat of government and a purpose built city similar in age and intent to Australia’s national capital.

So expecting the archetypical Muslim country, complete with the sights and smells of the middle east, instead he found a modern, extremely well organised and essentially “European” state, desirous and seemingly readily able to join the European Union – a fate yet to be achieved.  His hotel was the most stunningly designed boutique hotel he had seen – glamour and homeliness combined and with an innovative design feature at every turn.  The Turks, at least in Ankara – essentially no different to modern day Romans.

During the Turkish sojourn, the three girls conquered Naples (Napoli), Sorrento and Pompeii.  And before that, the senior girls stormed Firenze (Florence) and other Tuscan delights (see later and discover about “the horse”).

How wonderful the visit from the newly-weds?  Again, the “Roma 101” tours but mostly just a chance for us to enjoy their company. 

Rome in August is another place!  It empties!  The locals hit the resorts.  It is considered inconceivable to stay in Rome.  Businesses simply close for a week or two or a month.  The traffic quietens; seats can be had on the metro or buses.  All of this great if you like the simple life, but with the whole malaise focused on “ferrogosto” – in one breath that “season” but more specifically, 15 August, the Feast of the Assumption (of the Virgin Mary into heaven), and a public holiday – Ian and Cathy made a late decision to join the evacuation of Rome.

With some embarrassment, we approached the office travel agent on Wednesday 13^th with the question “Where could we go to easily escape Rome this three day weekend?”.  Overcoming the “you crazy Australians” thought, and after us canvassing flights to northern European parts and trains to northern Italy, and suppressing her desires to send us to a beach or mountain resort, we eventually came to a mutually acceptable option for a renta-car trip to Tuscany with two nights accommodation at a forgettable hotel outside of Siena.

Now driving in Italy had seemed to us for five months to be akin to a death wish.  Perhaps considering that we had had good and full lives, we threw all our previous resolutions to the wind and hired a Europcar Volkswagen Golf from “near” Villa Borghese and hit the bitumen on Friday morning.  The greatest challenge of the trip was to find the renta-car office because it was actually in a subterranean car park that we had no idea existed under our beloved Villa Borghese park.

It is not easy to drive on the right (wrong) side of the road and read incomprehensible street signs and dodge maniacal Roman drivers, cyclists and pedestrians, but we persevered and headed north on the A1.  Within three hours we had found our hotel in a small town that mostly comprised of our hotel and an industrial estate, about 10 kms from the much more attractive Siena – erstwhile home of “Catherine” (of Siena).

So we visited the hill-town (hill-city) and found it – damp.  A series of storms broke over Siena, causing us to get a little wet and, when we found the famous “Piazza del Campo”, venue for the world-famous Palio, it was spoiled by stands built all around and sand (slippery sand) all around the track.  It was only then that we realised that the famous race was to occur the next day.  Duh!! Of course, this race is all about competition amongst 17 contrade (plural of contrado) or “districts” of Siena to win a horse race that has been going on since medieval times, to win a silk “flag” that includes an image of the Virgin Mary.  Taking place twice a year only, the first race is in July.  The second, in August, would have to be on the ferrogusto weekend, in Mary’s honour.

<<>   You may take a short intermission now!!!>>

We had found ourselves unexpectedly at the scene of this most famous of all horse events – even surpassing the Melbourne Cup – one of the “tick-off” items on this family’s “bucket list” and something that Ian the vet has long coveted.

We also found ourselves in the main church (cathedral), the Duomo, at the end of the day on Friday where we attended evening mass (messe) next to the Palio itself – the prize flag, while the thunder and lightening raged outside.  This is where the horses are brought into the church to be blest for the race – hence the ancient mosaic floor was covered by plywood.  [Not the same church where the Mass for jockeys and connections is held and televised on race day - we saw this on our little TV set at Hotel Ordinario].

So on race day, as well as supping from the more than generous cup of the quintessential if somewhat commercialised San Gimignano, we returned to Siena itself.  Not that a trip to San Gimignano would not have made the weekend complete in itself.  It is delightful.  It is much like its centuries-old forebears, the modern-day site of artisans and classy shops, but tidy and well arranged.  And it has absolutely brilliant panoramic views of Tuscany.  But our target for the day had become Siena and the Palio.

Not easy to find a park and a long walk but we approached the Piazza del Campo as the contrade marched past us ceremoniously to the church en route to the arena.  All so sternly to solemn drum beats – protected by the contrado’s bevy of bodyguards and groupies – not at least conscious of the contradictions of wearing tights and medi

eval garb for a 21^st century race.  But that denies the fact that history demands that this process is a modern-day link with such an ancient tradition.  It is hard to see this event ever ending.

By 3:30pm we were in the piazza, electing to stand (sit on the cobblestones for a while) about twenty metres from the starting post, with a clear view of the “bad-corner”.  An hour later a military cavalry troop entered the piazza and after a “trot” circuit, executed a thrilling if unnecessary sabre-charge for a full circuit at top speed.  We would not have thought that such could so ignite our adrenalin, but it certainly did, partly because we shared the excitement with so many others.  On the only negative note for the day – one of the horses fell 

near us and after a long period limped from the piazza.  The vet in Ian did not see this injury as likely to be treatable.

On clearance of this unfortunate horse, an explosion occurred (the finish gun) and the Town Hall’s bell commenced to ring for the next two hours, and the parade of horses began.  Each contrado and every horse paraded around the arena to the same ancient tune.  Although 17 contrade exist, only 10 horses race, so the race is, we are told, formed of the 7 that missed last time and a ballot.  This medieval parade takes around two hours to complete, culminating with the Palio prize entering the piazza on a huge wagon drawn by four white oxen with a gaggle of fanfare blowers and three distinguished “dudes” aboard.  The “Palio” is hung by the starting post for the race.

The horses entered at 7:00pm complete with medieval jockeys, bareback and colourful.  But the race took more than 45 minutes to start.  A very Italian experience.  For the first (false) start, the crowd of who knows how many thousands in the confines of the track (at least 60 000 we suspect) and at every vantage point and every balcony/window, made an absolute hush – an extraordinary experience.  But after the third false start and countless attempts to get these “full-o-beans” horses to stand in order behind the starting rope, on a slope, the mob was getting restless.

Finally, they were off.  The first of three dashes around the circuit, saw the lead horse take one of the better corners too fast to fall and dismount his mount, then to ride on and run a good third for most of the race (it is the horse that wins this race – it need not have a rider at the time).  A second (trailing) horse fell on the third circuit but probably did not affect the result.

The caterpillar contrado (“Bruco” – the grub) won and horse and rider were mobbed about 40 metres from the finish by the fans.  People went berserk and the track was a sea of people, the Palio dragged down from its post by the winning contrado and the party began.

We also jumped the fence, away from the crowds and horses, and attempted a quiet exit, but we needed to circumnavigate the piazza to get back to our car and enjoyed an unplanned encounter with the Palio being taken back to the winning contrado.  How the sombre expressions of earlier were transformed into pure joy – pressing, singing, cheering supporters crushed by us on the narrow street.  Only punctuated by the metal “pike” holding the Palio being caught up on electricity wires a few feet from us.  Numerous sparks and a little concern and then, unhooked, this piece of living history moved on.

A late return home, a lengthy drive back to Rome the next day and home safe and sound.

The Palio is witnessed by a lot of tourists, yet it is not a tourist event.  It is archaic yet strangely modern.  It has to be the ultimate in pageantry and reality.  It is definitely a “must experience” event in life.  Our travel agent didn’t realise that it was on – nor did we – but serendipity gave us one of our most inspiring Italian memories.

Lots more happened during this period and we could tell you more – but you’ve been very good to read this far – well done.  We promise a shorter blog next time and less horsing around.

Posting photos to this blog is not easy – so we have only selected a few.  But these and a whole bunch more are on Ian’s Facebook site @  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=37087&id=553586403

 But maybe you have to be my Facebook "friend" to do this - the Douglases don't really understand Facebook!!!!!