In the mid-nineties, I was an excited, bushy-haired American girl studying Italian in Siena, Italy. What was intended to be a typical six month study abroad, would turn into a live-in love affair with the dreamy, medieval city that would last almost five years. During my first months there, I was lucky to live in the very picturesque Via San Marco, otherwise known as the beating heart of the Contrada della Chiocciola, the Snail Contrada. It was here that I’d come to understand the glorious, impassioned, and moving traditions of the controversial Palio, which has been taking place in Siena for centuries.
The city of Siena is divided into seventeen contradas, or neighborhood ‘sections’ that have their own history, society clubs, and even baptism ceremonies for new “contradiaoli”, or members. I was charmed enough to be living right across the street from The Societa’, clubhouse, and for six wonderful months, had a birds-eye view on the larger than life traditions and preparations for the spectacle of The Palio, that’s seated in the soul of the city’s history. Not every foreigner would want to be woken up early on weekend mornings by a troupe of snare drummers parading and singing under their window. But for me, it was the best alarm clock you could have after a short night’s rest fresh from drinking amazing and cheap red wine in the Piazza del Campo the evening before. The Palio parade practice was always as stimulating to see as it was to hear. Every contrada has its own symbol and insignia, in most cases an animal, as well as its own flag with a unique color scheme. The symbol of “my” contrada in Via San Marco is the chiocciola, or snail. Its flag’s colors are yellow, red and bright royal blue. All of them are beautiful, especially when viewed being twirled and tossed around in parade, as are the traditional medieval costumes that share the same colors. In late spring, the members of the contradas start practicing their flag and drumming drills for the ceremony of The Palio, that will start three days prior to the big race day, including the two hour plus long “Corteo Storico” parade the day of The Palio itself. On the weekend mornings they’d start drumming their way down my street, and regardless of how many hours sleep I’d had, I’d love to hear them approaching from the top of San Marco’s hill. I marveled at the passion, commitment, and preparation they gave to every aspect of the centuries old horse race. Besides, they were damn good at “La Sbandierata” tricks, launching their flags high up in the air and catching them, and I found the traditional songs so infectious and moving. The race itself occurs two times during the summer, once on July 2nd, and then again on August 16th. The contrada flag bearers and drummers will parade through Siena and their prospective contrada, if they’re participating in the Palio that year, and boy will they parade if they win it. The victorious contrada will march and sing at the top of their lungs throughout the city, and wine will flow from the contrada street fountains as if the world was coming to an end.
There’s historic debate over exactly how long the race has been happening. Some historians believe it even dates back to The Etruscans. But by most historic accounts, it dates back minimally to the mid-thirteenth century, and has been occurring inside Siena itself since the mid sixteen hundreds. A few years after my study abroad, while living a somewhat crazy, ex-pat life outside Siena for a time, I saw evidence of the much earlier Palio days. Walking through the bucolic “Tebaide” forest near Sovicille, there were stone contrada sculptures in the woods behind my house, honoring what was known as a temporary Palio race track between 1669 and 1692. Only ten of the seventeen contrade can run horses in any given race, as is tradition and for logistical reasons. The seven that didn’t run in the last Palio will get an automatic spot, “d’obligo” and the three remaining spots get decided by lottery at a nail-biting ceremony in the piazza, called the “Estrazione”. The horses and riders have no room for error in the minute long race, as the piazza has wicked sharp curves, especially the curve of San Martino. The fantini, jockeys, may come from Siena, or also outside the Tuscan region. There are a lot of shady maneuvers that go on during the race, including swats at each other with their riding crops, and sometimes, riders have even gone so far as to push other riders off their horses. Despite the aggressiveness of the race, it is something to be seen and experienced, with levels of hysteria you can’t imagine. Locals especially, will sleep out from two nights before the race to ensure a view right on the track. They scream, cry, sing, and generally go ballistic, both as winners, and losers. I was lucky enough to see The Palio a few times from inside the track center, packed in like cattle, and from an above apartment balcony looking onto the race. What actually is The Palio? It’s a large drape like fabric banner that gets designed and painted each year by a new artist, which is awarded to the winning contrada. Historically, they were created to recognize a holy apparition of The Madonna, and protections that The Madonna offered the city of Siena during war time. You can go see many of the past year’s Palii in a museum in the city center, which are unique and quite beautiful. The jockeys are chosen, in most cases, both for their ability and their race cunning. A lot of money and pride are put on the table for The Palio, and each contrada has an emotional, spiritual, and yes, financial vested interest in coming out the winner.
Centuries ago, the race was first run by buffalo, and then by farm horses, who obviously moved much more slowly, hence the race was less dangerous for the animals. These days, the piazza hasn’t changed, and still boasts tricky corners, but the type of horses they race most certainly has. The honor that’s bestowed on the winning contrada has led the stakes to be risen, and they now use fast paced racehorses that reach speeds never intended for the small, ancient track. Each contrada raises as much money as possible to buy the best jockey, and they pray they’ll get a good horse when they are chosen for them by lottery. They all want a combination that will produce a win that will be celebrated as if it belongs personally to each member of the contrada. In the week before the race, a crew comes in and begins laying down three or so layers of dirt that will convert the outer part of the seashell piazza into a makeshift track. The terra cotta bricks get covered over so much that they disappear completely. They also erect bleachers to view the race, which will go around the track, and from which you can watch the whole set up process. One early morning after taking in the hot sulfur baths at Petriolo, outside of town the night before, my friends and I sat on the bleachers, stinking of rotten egg from the sulphur, and watched some of the Palio practice races which start at six am or so. It was really exciting and well worth staying up all night for. These bleacher seats will get sold for a pretty penny, and the numerous apartments that have balconies on the piazza will make even more money for their unbelievable and prestigious views. Being in Siena for the Palio is one very festive and intense time. As the Pre-Palio season begins, each main street of the various contradas will put out decorative, ceramic street lights, and their colorful flags. Each contrada also has a rival contrada, and these oppositions run real deep. In some cases if a husband and wife are born and baptized into different contradas that are rivals, one will leave the family house during the Palio days, proof that the rivalries have no boundaries. In disdain you’ll hear one contrada member say about the other, “fa schifo alla citta” which means ‘that contrada brings disgust to the city’. These same words are even sung in traditional Palio songs that are chanted at all hours of the day and night throughout the city. Whatever your personal feelings about the race, the Palio has stood the test of centuries of time, which is an admirable thing in an age where nothing seems to last, culture is diluted, and most things are disposable in the modern age. I’ve been back in the U.S. now for many years observing some of our traditions, which include stopping in for a daily half-caf at Starbucks, and participating in Black Friday shopping, which has proven to be just as dangerous for shoppers as the Palio is for horses. Where’s the substance and celebration? The first place I ever lived in Siena was in the Chiocciola Contrada, so I have a particularly sentimental fondness for it. And despite not being baptized into the contrada at birth, which most sienese are, I still consider myself “of the chiocciola”, una chiocciolina. I miss the sights and sounds of The Palio and that feeling of infectious love and appreciation for the city I called my home, if only for a time.
My father and his wife Lily were visiting me during the week of The Palio my second year there, and upon my suggestion, bought tickets for us to attend the famous sidewalk dinner “The Cena della Prova Generale”, basically, the Pre Palio trials/practice dinner. It was a beautiful summer night, and I was ecstatic to have the chance to both discover and share this special traditional dinner with them. The contrada members set up an outdoor feast, decorating and turning on all the antique street lights up and down each contrada’s principal street. In the Chiocciola, the dinner was set up in my beloved Via San Marco, and the neighborhood never looked so gorgeous. The contradaioli are honored to share their contrada pride with Siena’s visitors, and make the five course meal a memorable one. After the dinner that night, a kind and very handsome contradaiolo named Robertino, spent the better part of that late night trying to teach me how to ride a motorino there in San Marco, adding to my many poignant and unforgettable Chiocciola memories. The year before, my norwegian roommate Hanne and I had been the lucky subjects of a very lovely, surprise serenade. We returned home late to find two of our Chiocciola friends, Massimo and Patrizio with another gentleman, Altero, outside the societa’. They greeted us with a sweet but simple ‘Buona notte ragazze!’, and we headed up to bed. Within a few minutes, they had assembled chairs below our bedroom window right there in San Marco, and began ‘la serenata’. As true ambassadors of romance, they sang both Sienese and Italian traditional standards for a couple of hours as we looked down on them from our third story window sill. It was a clear, starry night, and even after the neighbors started yelling ‘Basta con la serenata!’, they kept right on singing. Change is inevitable, and so much in life uncertain, but the years I spent in Siena, and my tender memories of San Marco stay fresh in my mind, and as bright as ever. As time ticks on, Siena remains the irreplaceable ‘citta’ mia’, city of my heart. ‘Con lento passo e grave nel campo a trionfare Chiocciola scende’. This is the motto of The Chiocciola contrada, which translates to; ‘with a slow and important step, the chiocciola enters the field triumphing’. I was always awestruck by this saying, and think I’d be pretty happy if I could live my life with ‘a slow and important step’. Just three days ago, I heard the very sad news that one of my serenade crew had passed away some years ago of cancer. So I dedicate this story to your dear memory Altero, and to all the dreamy romantics still out there.
