L'Italo-Americano

www.italoamericano.org 8 THURSDAY, JULY 9, 2026 L'Italo-Americano A b o u t a w e e k ago, for ninety s e c o n d s , t h e whole of Siena held its breath w h i l e t e n h o r s e s t o r e around the sloping shell of the Piazza del Campo, and then, it was over: a winner, a banner, a district gone mad with joy. That race, the P a l i o d i P r o v e n z a n o , run every second of July in honor of the Madonna the city has cherished since the sixteenth century, is the part the world comes to see. But the horses are only the visible part of something far older and far deeper, and the visitors who pack up the morning after the race really only saw the last page of a book that goes on being written all year long. The book belongs to the contrade, seventeen of them, the historic wards into which Siena has been divided for centuries, and only ten can run in any sin- gle Palio, so that the draw- ing of lots is itself a small drama. Each contrada car- ries the name and emblem of an animal or a symbol – the Snail and the Tortoise, the Goose and the Wave, the Eagle, the Panther, the She-Wolf, the Porcupine, the Dragon, the crowned Caterpillar crawling on its rose. Each has its own col- ors, its own flag, its own m o t t o , a n d a t e r r i t o r y whose boundaries a Sienese can trace street by street. To be born on one side of a lane rather than the other is to belong, for life, to one people rather than another. F u n n i l y e n o u g h , i t a l l begins with water… because a child of Siena is baptized twice, once at the church font, and once, by a tradi- tion the city guards fondly, at the fontanina, the little fountain of the contrada into whose streets the child was born. On the day of the district's patronal feast, the priore wets the child's fore- head with water from that f o u n t a i n a n d s p e a k s t h e w o r d s t h a t m a k e t h e m a Goose or a Tortoise forever, and often dozens of chil- dren are received at once, to the delight of parents and grandparents crowded around. From that morn- i n g t h e n e w e s t m e m b e r owns a fazzoletto, the silk kerchief in the district's colors, and a set of loyalties (and enmities) they will never have to choose. S p e a k i n g o f e n m i t i e s , they are real and they, too, are inherited, because most o f t h e c o n t r a d e h a v e a sworn rival, a nemica: the Eagle against the Panther, the Snail against the Tor- toise, the Dragon against the Wave, feuds whose ori- gins probably lie in some m e d i e v a l q u a r r e l o v e r a boundary or some bitter a f t e r n o o n i n t h e C a m p o generations ago. Only four districts, the Caterpillar, the Dragon, the Giraffe, a n d t h e F o r e s t , h a v e declared no enemy at all, while the Goose and the She-Wolf, proudly, keep no allies. On the day of the race a contrada may take as much pleasure in seeing its rival lose as in winning itself, which tells you these n i n e t y s e c o n d s a r e n o t really about a race at all, but more about traditions and local lore. Between the two Palios o f s u m m e r , t h o u g h , t h e districts live an altogether gentler life, and its center is the società di contra- da, the neighborhood club that first appeared in the n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y a n d n o w a n c h o r s o r d i n a r y days. Usually located in rooms near the district's h e a d q u a r t e r s , a s o c i e t à k e e p s a b a r , a g o o d kitchen, a hall for meetings and dances, and it is here that the contrada is most i t s e l f . T h r o u g h t h e l o n g winter the tables are laid o n s e t e v e n i n g s o f t h e month; there are dinners for the men and dinners for the women, dinners for the children and the elderly, card games and lectures and choirs; basically the whole small machinery of belonging that keeps a dis- trict together when there is no race in sight. A n d w h e n a c o n t r a d a does win, the eating and s i n g i n g c a n l a s t f o r months! The victory dinner is only the beginning of a series of smaller feasts, the cenini, that follow through the season, each with its own theme. Of course, the c h a m p i o n d i s t r i c t w i l l parade its joy (and its silk) at every excuse. Yes, becau- s e t h e p r i z e i t s e l f i s n o t m o n e y b u t a p a i n t e d banner, the drappello- ne, a length of hand-paint- ed silk bearing the image of the Virgin, made fresh each year by a different artist and known to the Sienese, h a l f t e n d e r l y a n d h a l f m o c k i n g l y , a s i l c e n c i o , "the rag." T h e r a g s w o n b y e a c h contrada are kept in the contrada's own museum. Nearly every district keeps one, filled with drappello- ni, often alongside the ora- t o r y t h a t s e r v e s a s i t s c h u r c h , a n d t h e t w o t o g e t h e r r e a l l y s e e m t o hold the soul of the place. These museums line their walls with the drappelloni of past victories, with the jackets and helmets of old jockeys, with costumes and paintings, basically a fami- ly album kept in silk and metal. The oratories, on the other hand, came to the contrada by an acci- dent of history, when in the late eighteenth century the Grand Duke Pietro Leopol- do suppressed a wave of S i e n e s e c o n v e n t s a n d brotherhoods, and the dis- tricts took over the emp- tied churches, becoming the keepers of altars and sacred art they hold to this day. And nothing shows how thoroughly the sacred and the civic have fused here quite like the blessing of the horse, which happens o n t h e a f t e r n o o n o f t h e race , when the animal is led – hooves and all! – up to the altar of the contra- d a ' s o w n o r a t o r y , a n d t h e r e , b e f o r e t h e j o c k e y and a church packed with t h e f a i t h f u l , t h e p r i e s t blesses it and sends it off w i t h a s h o u t t h a t w o u l d startle any other congrega- tion on earth: "Va', e torna vincitore!" Go, and come back a winner. If the horse leaves a mess on the flag- stones, so much the better; it is taken as a sign of luck. T h e n t h e r e a r e t h e s o n g s , r i s i n g f r o m t h e streets in the Palio days a n d o n a n y n i g h t w o r t h m a r k i n g , a b o v e a l l t h e Canto della Verbena, the m e l o d y e v e r y S i e n e s e knows, sung by each dis- t r i c t i n i t s o w n w o r d s , s o m e t i m e s s w e e t a n d sometimes sharpened into a taunt against a rival. To hear a whole contrada take up its anthem after a win, a r m s a r o u n d s h o u l d e r s , v o i c e s c r a c k i n g , i s t o understand how the Palio was never really a horse r a c e ; i t i s a w a y a c i t y found to remember, across s e v e n c e n t u r i e s , e x a c t l y who its people are. And the race is only the moment the rest of us are allowed to watch. FRANCESCA BEZZONE When the Piazza empties: the year-round life of Siena's Contrade LA VITA ITALIANA TRADITIONS HISTORY CULTURE A flag bearer from Siena's Chiocciola (Snail) contrada performs during a Palio event. While the famous horse race takes place only twice a year, the city's 17 contrade remain active year-round, organizing cultural, social, and community activities for their members (Photo: © Dietmar Rauscher / Dreamstime)

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