il palio delle barche

This week is the Palio delle barche, or boat competition, born from a 1495 battle. The story is that up in the castle the soldiers of one army were under attack by the two other armies. To escape, they had to hoist their boats on their shoulders, run to the lake, and paddle away. I'm not really sure why you would choose to celebrate a battle retreat, but I guess it was the final one fought, so that's something.

Today the competition is between the four different neighborhoods of the town (population +/-5,000). Each neighborhood has a color shown by the flags which are hung off the houses. The race, which is next Sunday, requires paddling in the lake across half the town, pulling out your boat, hoisting it on your shoulders, running up the switchback staircase, back out the north gate, and around a few more blocks before putting the boat back in the water and paddling the rest of the way. Oof! Our neighborhood, Centro Storico, hasn't won since 1992, but maybe this is the year. Go red!

Off the main piazza they constructed a fake medieval castle front (gray stones with gothic openings, despite the battle taking place during the Renaissance) with a temporary cooking structure behind. In front, they fill half the piazza with long tables and benches. Last night the tables filled up with townspeople and tourists who, for 20 euro a head, could have a full meal of typical dishes and local wine. Some of the tables were filled with this year's contestants, sporting team t-shirts in their neighborhood color. The contestants spent the evening trying to out-sing each other with rousing fight songs. You can imagine the noise with 500 Italians talking, 50 of them young men chanting. It took an hour to get each dish as the small temporary kitchen tried to pump out mass quantities of food. Between each dish, half the table lit up a cigarette. There was a medieval jester rhyming into a microphone trying to incite clapping competitions between tables. There was a large screen TV set up where they were interviewing the chef about the dishes being prepared. It was wonderful chaos.

John and I made it through the antipasti and the primi before our tender dispositions were overwhelmed and we snuck back up the hill to bed.