Where Tradition Lives in the Spirit of the Community

Culture, Tradition, Passion, Adventure; these are the watchwords which brought Andy and I (and our families) together and was the genesis for Pushing Horizons. Thus, we could not refuse an opportunity to experience the Palio in the Medieval city of Siena, Italy. Nor could we think of a better way to officially launch pushinghorizons.com for our family, friends, and like minded individuals.

To think of the Palio as only, or even primarily, a horse race is to miss the deeper undercurrents that surround the event. This is, above all, about community. Each neighborhood, or contrada, in geographic boundaries established in 1729, passionately support their respective horses and jockeys (if victorious). The seventeen contrade, with colors and symbols that hearken back to antiquity and with elements of mythology (wolves, giraffes, dragons, panthers, and even snails), form the identity and loyalties of the youngest children to the oldest grandparents.

Andy arrived three days before I did and immersed himself in the nuances of the race, its tactics and traditions. By the time I had entered the walls of the old city on July 1, he also had arranged for us to experience one of the most evocative events of the multi-day pageantry that is the Palio – a dinner the night before the race with one of the contrade in the streets of their neighborhood.

We sat down with the members of Capitana dell’Onda, or Wave, at tables lit from above by decorative fish-designed lamps symbolic of the contrada and laid out through the twisting streets of the neighborhood. The community served a multi-course meal to over a thousand assembled along Via Giovanni Duprè. Young teenagers, on the cusp of adulthood, ladled out plates of prosciutto and melon, chicken and potatoes, and creme caramel. Others replenished dwindling stocks of wine and scurried back to the kitchen for more bread rolls. Children ran through the tables pelting each other with corks from the growing number of empty wine bottles. Throughout the night, members would break out in to song, singing the ancient dirges of Onda; castigating their rival – Torre – or extolling the virtue of their tribe.

Make no mistake, this was tribal. The grandmother across from us explained how her husband had registered her children in the Onda community even before they were born. Once registered, your membership in a contrada could not be changed and lasted until death. Senior representatives of the contrada are a part of wedding ceremonies and the grandmother’s daughters, now mothers themselves, proudly explained how at death members of the community would be escorted at the funeral by those bearing the Onda colors.

The love these people had for their contrada manifests itself in the horse race and this maybe one of the most interesting and hidden elements of the event. Leaders are selected by the community to serve as “captains” of their respective contrade. Captains marshal the resources of their community to achieve victory at the Palio. Jockeys are bribed, favors are paid for, alliances between contrade factor into the scheming, and large war chests are collected to influence the outcome of the race. A horse trainer, and contrada captain-to-be, told us that up to two million euros were spent on a single Palio by some contrade to ensure victory. The reward? Adding the Drappellone, the official Palio banner, to their neighborhood museum, and the glory associated with being a member of the winning contrada.

To the uninitiated, these machinations behind the scenes seem to corrupt the heart of the race. However, such views fail to grasp that intrigue is as much a part of the Palio as the sweat soaked horses and men in the arena careening fearlessly around the Piazzo del Campo. This is life, or war, and no effort is spared to achieve victory. The jockeys are mercenaries, and never fully trusted by the contrade that hire them. Members of the contrada guard the jockeys in the frenzied days before the race to ensure that rival neighborhoods do not find ways to compromise them.

Gamesmanship even extends to the six trial runs held in the days before the race. The trials familiarize both horses and jockeys to the Palio racetrack, dirt covering the ancient stones of the Campo. During the trials some horses are raced at full speed, while other jockeys disguise their horses’ ability with casual cantors around the dirt track. These trials also, inevitably, feed the growing excitement of the city. We witnessed one such practice run. In bleachers around the Campo groups of various contrade, divided by men, women, and children, their colored scarfs fluttering, cheered.  The honorary Carabineri horse guard trotted around the track and stopped to salute the contrade children given privileged seats along the track.  Like their parents, and those who sat in the seats before them, they carry the mantle of their community into the future. The elderly lady standing next to us exclaimed “bellissima” in ecstasy at the pathos of the scene. 

On July 2, the day of the race, people thronged the streets of the city, many still groggy from the festivities of the night before. A last practice run was held in the morning. After looking at photos I sent from the practice, my four year daughter called to tell me she predicted that the Red and White clad jockey would win. Across Siena, in ten different contrada chapels, the horses were blessed – “Go! And return victorious!” was the final charge of the priest. We joined the faithful who waited outside the Onda church to catch a glimpse of their champion.

Then we funneled into the standing room only arena in the middle of the Campo and waited for the event to begin. Amidst the blare of bugles and beat of drums, the inhabitants paraded around the track in the medieval uniforms of their ancestors. In an endless procession, jesters, acrobats, archers, guild members, knights, and noblemen marched around the track. At the end of the parade, gigantic oxen pulled a large carriage displaying the prize Drappellone.

The mayor of Siena walked to his position on an ancient wooden bridge that overlooked the race. Captains of the various contrade, looking all the world like mob bosses, shook the hands of their followers, gave back slaps to their peers, or scowled behind designer sunglasses before taking their seats. Finally, the horses and their jockeys entered the Campo. Young men from the contrade screamed encouragements. Above from ornate balconies, the wealthy and connected stared down at the spectacle. In the middle, the rabble – us among them – fed the nervous energy of the horses.

A hushed silence overcame the thousands of fans in the square as the horses lined up. The collective excitement was palpable. The race would begin when the last rider-chosen by lottery-entered a roped off area at the start line. This rider, who by the nature of his position at the back of the pack has little chance of winning the race is ripe for deal making. How and when he initiates the race can advantage another jockey. To the growing frustration of the audience, there was numerous false starts. Riders jostled and a horse threw his jockey. Time and again, the horses had to be reformed.

Then, suddenly, the race had begun. Man and beast galloped at incredible speeds around the track. The jockeys beat each other with rods and careened inches from the ancient statues that adorned buildings. The audience cheered. Contrade loyalists howled. The jockey for the Chiocciola (snail) contrada led the pack. He was chased relentlessly by the red and white clad jockey for Imperial Contrada della Giraffa (Giraffe). Three times the the horses galloped past us, flinging dirt in the air. Our jockey from Onda blocked Torre – they would finish ninth and tenth. At the last turn, and final second, Giraffa edged past the leader to take the victory.

Just like that, in little more than ninety second, the race was over. The Campo erupted into chaos. Fans rushed the track. Defeated contrade members bawled. The victorious Contrada, Giraffa, ecstatically crowded around their heroic jockey Giovanni Atzeni; featured in an earlier documentary film about the Palio. They lifted him onto their shoulders and paraded through the streets chanting the old dirges of their community. The fierce passion of victory covered Atzeni’s face.

Andy and I were stunned by the excitement of it all. I called my daughter to tell her that her prediction had been correct. We had been witness to a tradition, stretching back into antiquity, kept vibrantly alive by the commitment and spirit of the community. It was time for the Imperial Contrada della Giraffa to enjoy the fruits of their victory and carry the Drappellone back to their neighborhood.

No city is immune to change and Siena is not the same as it was when the Palio began hundreds of years ago. However, the spirit of the the contrade and the communities they stitch together is the thread that connects the past to the present. Whatever the future brings, the Sienese will look towards the next Palio on the dirt of the Piazza del Campo.

Roland Minez is a co-founder of Pushing Horizons.

Disclaimer: All views expressed are that of the author.