August 20th, 2009 | |
Posted in Azamara, Azamara Quest, Italy, Live from Azamara Quest, Tosca, Verona, independent cruising, palio, siena, single cruising
Its been quite some 4 days. If you have been following me on Twitter (
www.twitter.com/cruiseresource), you have gotten a taste of what Ive been doing, but as promised, Im writing more about my travels, adventures and what I experienced along the way. Look to the twitter posts at the above address for the accompanying pictures to the tales below.
As a bit of background, when I planned this trip and saw that we had an overnight in Ravenna, I started researching options in the nearby region. There is so much in the area, from Bologna to Verona and more. I wanted to see what kind of options there were, and kept in mind the possibility that I could remain off the ship at night if I chose. Having that option allowed me to be more creative in what I explored for choices. I didnt presume at first I'd overnight away, but I kept that in my mind as I researched.
I first looked at Bologna, a wonderful city with lots of great history, architecture and... FOOD! But looking there, I also looked out from there another hour on the train to Verona. And discovered the summer opera festival held in their first century Roman Coliseum. Well, no question there, I wanted to go see that! So began the planning.
Because of the timing of the opera (beginning at 9P and usually concluding after midnight), it became obvious that I would need to overnight there. No problem, as the train service from Ravenna through Bologna was excellent and frequent.
But suddenly I realized that I was going to be in Italy in mid-August, and remembered that Palio is run in Siena during that time frame. So off I went in Google to check the dates...and yes! They did coincide with the dates in Ravenna.
So the research expanded, to see first if I could find a hotel at that late date (less than 2 months before I arrived) in a location I wanted and a price I could afford. It turned out easier than I expected as I found a hotel with single availability and for Palio very reasonably priced.
The next step was logistics. Could I get from Ravenna to Siena via train and bus in time for the evening practice race, and then from Siena to Verona again train and bus after the morning trials but arrive in Verona in time for the opera? Unfortunately, this is where I ran into a snag, as I could easily get to Siena, but my journey to Verona fell on a Saturday and a major Italian holiday, Ferragasto, to boot, and the connections were just not working.
At this point I almost cancelled my Siena plans, but the hotel encouraged me to consider driving, as the routing was fairly easy and straight forward. I hadn't thought about driving, but the craziness most people bring to mind when they think of Italian drivers is more about city driving, especially in Rome and farther south, and this would be highway traffic. Not so different than driving at home, especially if you've traveled in the region before. Italy drives on the right, like America, so no big deal there.
Was able to arrange a one-way car rental picking up in Ravenna and dropping off near the pier in Venice at a reasonable price, not much more than the bus/train option was going to cost, and could then control the scheduling, so it all fell into place.
While I considered the fact it was a lot of driving to do, for not a lot of time in each destination, my decision was made based on whether or not I would feel regret if I didn't take the opportunity presented by the situation. I just couldn't pass up either event. So off I went!
The essence of independent travel is both being prepared and flexible. While you can just wing it if you're not on a schedule, or if you're based off a ship for a day or two, this type of travel does require a bit more structure. But once the logistics are arranged, after that, you're free to follow your fancy.
So many people consider cruising too structured. But ships and itineraries such as the Azamara Quest have very little structure at all. Extended times in port or overnights to come and go as you wish, lots of options because of the ports visited, and flexible scheduling onboard. While I went farther afield I think than most, when I returned I was regaled with stories of others' adventures in Bologna, Ravenna, evenings ashore during the traditional night-time stroll Italians enjoy and other experiences most cruisers can't take advantage of because of port schedules. While there had been some grumbling about Ravenna as an overnight destination, most I've spoken with upon returning really enjoyed their time if they ventured into the surrouding areas.
So back to my adventures. I must say that regardless of who you rent your car through, driving in any foreign country you really must use a GPS. It's especially necessary when traveling alone, as there's no one to read the map for you while you drive. But even with a companion, it helps so much to be able to concentrate just on driving, not on navigating, and ensures you can have a more relaxed, successful drive with minimal frustrations. If you don't have a GPS model with downloadable map sets, simply request a unit from your rental agency when you make your reservations. They're fairly inexpensive and completely invaluable.
Ravenna to Siena was absolutely gorgeous through the countryside and mountains. Instead of taking the most direct route through Bologna and Florence, I decided instead to go via Arezzo so I could see more of Italy. Further deciding to avoid toll roads, I drove some mountain highways which were fun if you like that sort of thing, and even in my little 4 cylinder car, I scooted around the curves. Could have taken the easier route, but this added some personal fun for me. Got a little sense of being a true Italian driver.
Thank heavens for GPS in Siena getting to the car drop for my hotel, as I don't think I'd ever have negotiated it without that plus the hotel's directions. Typical medieval road plan, meaning very little plan at all and designed to frustrate tourist...er, I mean invaders. But got there safely and settled in immediately.
Before I could even freshen up, I began to hear drums beating outside the walls. It was time for the afternoon parades and presentation of the colors of the various contrade. From my research, I knew there would be parades and traditional dress, but nothing prepared me for the extent and passion of it all.
As I exited my hotel, I was enveloped in the atmosphere. From every direction began to appear the contrade, the traditional family neighborhoods, heralding their processions by a repeated drum marching tune, and their two flag bearers flourishing their colors as they waved their huge flags in unison. In this fashion, they proceeded through the streets one by one toward Il Campo, the city square, and the City Hall.
I walked down to the Campo, not more than a couple hundred strides away, to watch their entry into the square. As they arrived one-by-one, or sometimes two at a time from different directions, they strove to out drum or give extra flourishes to their flag presentations to outshine their rival neighborhoods.
Proceeding into the City Hall, I was surprised at how relatively empty the Campo was. There were some viewers in the stands, and some in the center of the square, along with vendors, but nothing at all what I expected. Little did I know this was the lull before the storm. I think most of the town was still in siesta resting up for the evening.
After formalities of some sort in the City Hall, back out came all the contrade, with their drummers, to the sounds of trumpeters blazing from the upper windows. The processioneers began their journeys through the streets back to their contradas to await the evening return. I went up to the main street to watch them pass by, not one after another as it wasn't that kind of parade, but they each passed by at some point in their travels home. The drums (and crowds) heralded their approach, but otherwise it wasn't a predictable event when the next contrada group would appear.
As they went back to their families, I wandered a bit, then returned to the hotel to cool down and rest (both necessary with the heat and humidity, especially in the square) before the night's activities.
At around 6, I began to hear singing from the streets, so rushed down to see what was happening. No drummers this time, as they would disturb the horses, and horses there were! This time, each horse, attired in only their colored harness, was walked through the streets escorted by members of the contrada to which they were assigned. You see, the horses aren't raised or even directly chosen by the contrade - it's a lottery system to make it more fair and even.
As they walked through the the streets, first came the flag bearer in traditional dress, then the horse and trainer, followed finally by the men of the extended family and the women. All the men and women were singing their family songs, with beautiful, strong and loud voices in harmony. Most all wore their family kerchiefs with their colors and symbols (owl, dragon, unicorn, cheetah, etc), and some even wore coordinated shirts.
Again, one after another, they proceeded to the square. The horse was escorted into the City Hall (yup, right inside), and the contrada to their places of honor in the stands.
It was now that I began to realize that while there were plenty of tourists, we were relegated to a secondary role. We really weren't the reason this was put on - it truly was for the families and their pride and tradition. The huge majority of space in the stands was reserved for them, while the tourists got to stand in the very hot, and now very crowded square center. But that's how it should be, and seemed right and proper. We were tolerated, but it wasn't all about us. And that made it even more special.
The square was filled with good-hearted but serious and spirited rivalry, mostly expressed through singing across the square at each other. Groups of women, men, young and old, would erupt in their traditional songs, trying to drown out their arch rivals. Even groups of 4-5 younger men in the center of the square would express their pride in this way.
People were everywhere; in the windows of the upper floors of the City Hall, from the balconies of the surrounding buildings, even the roof tops. Some were in a festival mood, others were extremely serious. And this was only a practice race! It was a chance for them to see how their jockeys performed, their horse's strengths, decide strategy and build up to the event on Sunday.
Finally, with the boom of a cannon, the horses emerged from the City Hall and proceeded 1/2 way around the square to the start. 9 of the 10 horses (only 10 of the 17 contrade compete each time - those left out are guaranteed a spot in the next series, which will be in June) line up against two hemp ropes, with the final horse and rider determining the actual start by running up at their choice of time to the ropes and starting the race.
Three times around the dirt track created on the outside edge of the square, and it's over. Huge excitement as they ran, and everyone in the center of the square turned 360s trying to watch. It's a definite advantage to be on the upper edge, as you could look over the heads of those lower down to see the horses as they passed by the City Hall, but in many ways it's not about seeing the horses themselves, but just watching everything involved.
After the trial, the horses are again escorted out and back to the safety of their neighborhoods by their family groups. When I say safety, I mean it seriously. There is a long history and tradition of shady activities at times between the rivals. While the horses are never permanently harmed, that's beyond acceptable, there is doping of the horses, riders, bribes and other activities trying to glean an edge. This is serious business, with pride of the family on the line. These actions aren't condoned, but there's more to the parades and escorting than just presentation.
My hotel, the fantastic, comfortable and family run Palazzo Fani Mignanelli, had made dinner reservations for me that evening, but frankly I was so tired from the drive and the heat and standing that all I wanted was a large bottle of water and a panini and sleep, and that's exactly what I did. I'm sorry I didn't get to experience a local neighborhood restaurant, as the streets were filled with family revelry, but I wanted to enjoy the next morning as well. I could hear the singing and high spirits from my room, but it blended into the atmosphere of a very good night's sleep.
After a very nice breakfast the next morning, back in the streets about 8:15 to watch all over again. Less pageantry for the morning trial, and far fewer people (I think most were still sleeping after the evening's activities), which meant that it was possible to get a place at the rail and watch as the horses rode by. Learned a lesson too this morning - stand by the rail and you're subject to being pelted with dirt clods from the horse's hooves as they pass by. I know of what I speak as it took several minutes later in the shower to get all the dirt out of my hair!
Still singing, still serious, but it's clear the morning practices are more about the horses and trials themselves than the contrade presentations and rivalries. The final evening trial to be held that night is the most important of all the trials, with huge neighborhood communal dinners afterwards, but alas, it was time for me to leave for Verona.
I'd said before I attended the trials that I was glad I wasn't going to be at the main Palio event, as it would be too hot and crowded, and at less than 5' tall, I'd never experience anything... I was wrong. I only got a sampling of the tradition and presentation, along with the spirit and pride, though it was far more than I imagined it would be, now it means I just want more. I will be back again, and for longer. Siena, you got me!
Driving out of town toward Verona via Florence and Bologna, my thoughts were centered both on the beauty of Tuscany passing by my windows, but also on what I had just experienced. Because this is a "true" event, not a staged one to wring cash out of unwitting tourists, I felt I'd been given a window into medieval life and structure, when family was first, then town/state and then later country. I think if I asked locals in Siena who they were, they'd give first their contrada affiliation, then Siena, then finally Italian. It's a clarity of identity and connection most of us have lost in our world, regardless of where we are, and experiencing it made me long for that type of successful rivalry where pride is defended through a horse race and you always have your family with you. I'm sure there's another side of the family rivalries, perhaps more seedy and violent, but it's still a very good way to work and live in harmony but retain your identity. I long for that in my life.
If anyone in Siena is reading this, would you consider adopting me into your contrada? My heart has already joined you. Please?
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