Il Palio

The Porcupine Contrada won the big race. Their horse led the whole way.

I’m not sure I’m going to be able to adequately describe Siena and Il Palio. In my entire life, I have never seen such a ritual.

And believe me, it isn’t just a horse race. Click on the Il Palio link above to read about it if you haven’t already done so.

Siena (the old part inside the old Roman walls) is divided up into 17 Contradas, which are sort of like neighborhoods. Each Contrada has a name, and it’s something from nature, usually an animal. When a Siennese is born, he or she automatically becomes a member of the Contrada based on where he or she lives, and this is a status that person will hold for life. Each Contrada has it’s own Catholic Church, it’s own piazza, it’s own meeting hall for its own little community. A Contrada is not very large, only a few blocks (Siena doesn’t really have blocks, but you get my idea). Most important of all, some of the Contradas are friends, some are archenemies.

Let me just say that the Tuscan people know how to be archenemies. I am dead serious when I tell you that the people of Florence still are angry with the people of Siena because the Siennese defeated them in a battle that took place in the 1200s. That’s right, I said the 1200s. Now that’s a grudge.

Winning the Palio gives the Contrada the bragging rights for one full year, and allows them to display the banner (which is actually “the Palio” from which the name of the race has evolved) in their community until the race the next year.

The Palio was first run in 1652, and basically nothing has changed since that time. All of the day’s festivities are Renaissance in nature. The festivities of the day of Il Palio begin with Mass early in the morning. There is a final trial run midmorning. In the afternoon, they bring the horse into the Church in their Contrada to have it blessed by the priest in a traditional ritual. They then begin their procession down the narrow streets of Siena to the Piazza del Campo, Siena’s main piazza where the race is run. The procession consists of about seven or eight men dressed in Renaissance clothing, including one dressed in a suit of armor and one drummer. Two of the men each hold a flag of their Contrada. They wave the flags in beautiful unison, and throw the flags ceremonially in the air as they walk towards the Campo. Following the costumed men are the people of the Contrada, singing their Contrada’s anthem and wearing the colors and the scarf of their Contrada. The people range in age from babies to seniors.

Beginning about 5:30, the procession begins the entrance into the Campo. It takes a full two hours for all of the Contradas to enter. There is drumming and flag waving. They have their racehorse, which is covered with the colors of their Contrada. The 10 Contradas enter first, and the other seven follow, still with flag carriers and drummers, but obviously no horse. As each Contrada enters the Campo, the people of that Contrada come into the center of the Campo where they will watch the race. They are carrying a scarf with their traditional colors, or are wearing it around their neck or around their head. The variety of colors makes a colorful scene.

Finally, a cart pulled by four huge white oxen comes in carrying the Palio – the banner that is the treasured prize for winning the race. Once they hoist the Palio high in the corner above the start/finish line, the horses carrying the jockeys come out.

Each horse is decorated in the traditional colors, but without a saddle. The race is bareback. The jockey is wearing colorful clothing matching the traditional colors of the Contrada. By this time it’s about 7:45.

Remember that they are still running the race the same way they did in the 1600s, so that means there are no starting gates. The horses line up behind a rope in the order that is decided by pulling names from a hat. Picture this: there are thousands of people (including Bill and me) standing in the center of the Campo, and hundreds of people sitting in the bleachers and hanging out of windows around the Campo. You begin to hear people saying “shhhhhhh.” And somehow, the people stop talking and there is dead silence as the race leader begins pulling the names for where your horse will line up. This is of critical importance, because where your horse stands could decide the race. As the names were announced, you heard cheering or groans from the crowd, as appropriate.

Then the horses begin to line up. Because there are no starting gates, and because this is so competitive, and because they are using rules from the 1600s, this process took literally 20 minutes. The horses (contolled, or course, by their jockey) were bumping into each other, pushing each other out of line. The jockeys were talking to each other, making deals with each other (This, too, is literally true. Depending on the horse your Contrada was given and the location of the horse, jockeys are encouraged to make deals with each other. They can’t change where they are in the lineup, but they can agree to block another horse, etc. Remember I told you that some Contradas are archenemies with others, so a Contrada that is in a bad position might want to simply make sure their enemy doesn’t win.)

The Contrada whose name was drawn last begins the race. The horse stands behind the others, and when that horse begins running, the race is on. Because of this rather archaic start, false starts are very common. There was only one false start last night.

The race consists of the horses running around the dirt track a total of three times. The horse that goes across the finish line first – with or without a jockey – wins the race. Bill and I were cheering for the Elephant Contrada, and that horse was second the whole race. Right at the end, it was coming on strong, but banged into a corner and knocked itself out of the race.

Oh, the joy of the Porcupine Contrada when their horse won. So much cheering and flag and scarf waving! And as Bill and I walked back to our car, we walked through the Eagle Contrada. The people were gathered and were comforting each other. The men were loudly discussing the race, no doubt talking about the cheating ways of the Porcupine. The women were literally crying.

Bill and I sat in the Campo holding our place beginning at about 4 o’clock. By the time we got to our car at 9, we were both hot and tired campers. But it was an experience we won’t soon forget.