Racing Back to the Middle Ages : Siena, Italy’s Palio Isn’t Just a Horse Race. It’s a Colorful Pageant and Rivalry Rooted in Medival History.

SIENA, Italy — In passionate, vociferous Italy, nothing is ever simple--not even a horse race. Those who flock to Siena each summer to witness the magnificent, medieval tradition known as the Palio know all too well the complexities behind the veil of ritual. While naive first-timers might take the race for an innocuous display of pageantry and equestrian competition, it represents, in fact, a behind-the-scenes rivalry between neighborhoods that’s even more intense than the Super Bowl in America. So how was it possible that when I attended last year’s Palio in July, the horses didn’t run?

Siena, set upon three hills in the heart of the Chianti region of Tuscany, is a walled jewel from the Middle Ages. Rich in art and tradition, it is graced with one of the most glorious cathedrals in Italy, and one of the most distinctive central squares, the shell-shaped Piazza del Campo, which is ringed by medieval palazzi .

This is the heart of the city, not only because the Palazzo Pubblico (the town hall) is located here, and restaurants and cafes line the perimeter of the Campo, but because twice a year, on July 2 and Aug. 16, the Palio, a colorful pageant and dangerous barebacked horse race, is staged here. Ten of the cities’ 17 contrade --districts , or wards--race against one another to win a silk banner--also called the palio--which is adorned with a hand-painted image of the Virgin Mary.

For art lovers, Siena is worth the trip for the masterpieces of Duccio and Simone Martini alone. But if you want to experience Sienese culture--its deep and continuing sense of tradition--and to understand something about Italy’s colorful and complex history, a visit during the Palio is enlightening.

Last year was my third trip to Siena and my second Palio. As a rule, I don’t care for parades or processions because they reek of sanctimonious patriotism or are blatantly touristy. Nor do I care for horse races or unruly crowds. But the Palio is different.

The race itself is a short--only three laps--rowdy event during which all the rules of fair play are set aside and defeating your enemy at any cost becomes the supreme object, even at the expense of jockeys and horses, which are sometimes injured or even killed.

But the Palio is much more--a reflection of the vibrant, ancient tapestry of social and civic life that unifies the city and its institutions. And, unlike palios in other Italian cities (they exist in several), it is not for tourists. It’s for the Sienese, and it pays tribute to their past.

Although the origins of the Palio are uncertain, it is believed to have existed as early as the 13th Century (when the city was divided into as many as 80 contrade ) and to have stemmed from the military companies that defended Siena in the Middle Ages. Now 17 remain, and each functions as an independent municipality with its own constitution, song, motto, insignia, flag, church, museum, social club, patron saint and government hall.

Each contrada is named after its symbol, usually an animal, and displays its traditional colors on costumes, banners and shields. The 17 contrade are Aquila (Eagle), Chiocciola (Snail), Onda (Wave), Pantera (Panther), Selva (Forest), Tartuca (Turtle), Civetta (Owl), Leocorno (Unicorn), Nicchio (Shell), Torre (Tower), Valdimontone (Ram), Bruco (Caterpillar), Drago (Dragon), Giraffa (Giraffe), Istrice (Porcupine), Lupa (She-Wolf) and Oca (Goose).

Rivalries and alliances between the contrade are centuries old and continue to evoke strong emotions. To the Sienese, winning the Palio is not as important as defeating your archenemy, and contradaioli will go to any length to achieve this. Secret pacts, bribing an enemy’s jockey, paying a coveted jockey millions of lira to race and guarding jockeys day and night to prevent their corruption are all part of the ritual.

A Sienese doesn’t join a contrada ; he or she is born into it. But a contrada ‘s significance goes beyond family: It raises money to finance the Palio, supports the poor, sponsors events year-around and is the focal point of Sienese life. It also cuts across economic and social barriers: The shoemaker fraternizes in the contrada’s social club with the wealthy factory owner.

Several weeks before each Palio, a drawing occurs to determine which districts will run in the race. (In 1721, the city ruled that only 10 of 17 could compete at once because of all the violent pileups of horses and jockeys. The seven that did not run in the July Palio automatically qualify for next July’s race, so the remaining three are chosen by lottery; the same is true for August.) The drawing also determines the order in which the participating wards will march in the procession, the order they will be listed in official communications and the order in which their banners will fly from the Palazzo Pubblico during the trial races.

In order to experience all the events leading up to the Palio, I would recommend arriving four days before the actual race. Besides, once you have exhausted Siena’s marvelous museums and churches, you can take side trips through the Chianti countryside, following several wine routes or visiting nearby San Gimignano, Montepulciano and the Abbey of Monte Oliveto Maggiore.

The Palio’s first important event is the tratta , the choosing of the horses, when everything jumps into high gear. It occurs at dawn, three days before the race. Contrade have no choice as to what horses they race. About 30 horses, culled by officials, are brought in to run three laps around the Campo, whose cobblestone surface has been covered with soil and transformed into a race course.

After 10 horses have been chosen as evenly matched as possible, another lottery determines which horse is assigned to each contrada .

Since all the horses have been examined by veterinarians, no one can claim they received a sick horse. Once a horse is assigned, no substitutes are permitted, even if the horse gets sick or dies. Like the jockeys--professionals who are usually not Sienese--the horses are guarded 24 hours a day to prevent druggings or other “accidents.” Sienese stories abound about sudden horse ailments or mysterious injuries. But chicanery is part of the lore of Palio and is taken for granted; last minute payoffs and secret pacts are part of the game.

Nor are the horses tested for drugs. Although the use of methedrine, glucose and vitamins to pep up horses is said to be common, some locals insist that drugs make no sense. They make the horses too jittery to handle in the pre-race procession, and no one knows precisely when the race will start.

Later in the day, the first of six trial races begins. Colorful banners festoon the city, and members of each participating ward--arms linked and necks and waists tied with scarves of their contrada --march into the Campo, proudly leading their jockeys and horses and extolling the virtues of each. They proclaim their contrada ‘s glorious history, and taunt their adversaries. At night, the groups, often accompanied by rolls from tambors, roam the city, singing their ancient melodies. (For anyone wanting a good night’s sleep, it’s best to stay outside of the city’s ancient walls.)

Ironically, a good showing in the trials doesn’t mean much. The jockeys hold their horses back, so everyone is constantly arguing over which contrada has a better chance. Before last July’s race, the consensus was that Tartuca and Pantera--Turtle and Panther--had the best horses. But horses are sometimes injured during trials, jockeys are traded or replaced until the final race and the all-important starting positions are not announced until the very last moment, so there are no guarantees.

Alliances between contrade continually shift, all in the name of defeating a hated foe. For example, one district, sensing defeat, might trade its superior jockey at the last minute to another it thinks has a better chance of beating the enemy. Last year, one of the best jockeys, Andrea Degortes, who had won 13 Palios to date and was riding for Ram, injured his knee and was hospitalized in an early trial, causing many to speculate that he had been bribed by Ram’s archenemy, Shell. Jockeys officially are paid a fee of about 10 million lira--about $8,400--per Palio, but receive much more--reportedly as much as six times that--under the table.

Over the next three days, the bleachers set up around the edges of the square increasingly fill with Sienese, visiting Italians and tourists as the trials progress and the excitement and tension mount. Jeers and insults are traded between contradaioli , sometimes accompanied by obscene gestures. Brawls and fistfights are common; it’s all part of the pageant.

On the eve of Palio, one of my favorite events occurs: The participating wards host outdoor banquets, where long tables spill out into neighborhood squares. At the 1990 Palio, a friend and I had the good fortune to attend the festivities hosted by Oca (Goose) since we are blessed with the friendship of 71-year-old Gaston Vanni, an elegant, walrus-moustached, retired Sienese engineer. We were shepherded by him to a good table where we enjoyed the reminiscing among his boyhood friends, who teased Vanni about bringing two women nearly half his age. On a raised dais, at the foot of the table, sat the priore (the elected head of the contrada ) and the capitano (in charge of the ward’s activities during the Palio, he is all-powerful), as well as his lieutenants and the contrada ‘s jockey. Between speeches, everyone ate, drank and sang in harmonious camaraderie, exchanging jests, pleasantries and opinions about the race.

Since most Sienese try to return home to attend the Palio--even Siense-born soldiers are given leave--this is also a time to renew old friendships. For someone like me from Los Angeles, where everyone is from someplace else and bonds are tenuous, the festivities evoked a sense of belonging and community I envied.

On the morning of the Palio, the jockeys attend a ritual mass at the foot of the Campo’s soaring Mangia Tower, where the Archbishop bestows his blessings upon them. By midafternoon, the horses are led to the altars inside neighborhood chapels, where each will receive the blessing of the contrada priest. But as he prays for victory, all eyes are on the horse’s backside: It is considered good luck if it defecates in the chapel.

Now a procession gets underway that seems to have been plucked straight from the Middle Ages. Ward members who will march in the parade, the comparse , appear in sumptuously embroidered velvet, silk and satin costumes whose designs have been copied from Renaissance paintings. With a rousing drumroll and an artful toss of their large banners, they accompany their horse to the Campo as their contrada cheers them to victory.

By 4 p.m., the Campo is filling fast with what will be as many as 60,000 spectators, a number equaling the population living within the city walls. The colors of each contrada now interweave with the rosy hues of the square’s palazzi as the sun begins to descend. Everything seems calm and ordered, like the quiet preceeding a storm. Finally, a small cannon goes off, marking the beginning of the parade.

First, 20 mounted policemen, resplendent in plumed hats and 19th-Century uniforms, slowly enter the piazza . Once past the Curva del Casato (one of the track’s two most dangerous curves, to the left of the Palazzo Pubblico), they break into a full cavalry charge with swords drawn. Then the tower’s bells peal and a marching drum and brass corps sets the pomp-and-circumstance cadence, ushering in a group representing the old republic of Siena and its former holdings: a standard bearer, with his black and white flag, four commanders-in-chief, a groom, six mace bearers, 12 trumpeteers, 18 musicians and 36 banner-bearers. Next, a captain, followed by a page, a groom and three massive mounted centurions wearing armor.

The second group represents the old guilds who were associated with the different districts. They carry articles associated with their crafts. They are followed by the groups of individual contrada , each with its own drummer, two banner-wavers ( alfieri ), a leader in armor with his two men-at-arms, three standard-bearing pages, their unmounted, richly draped Palio horse and, finally, the jockey, wearing his contrada colors astride a parade horse. As each ward finishes its presentation, it files into a specially designated section of the bleachers in front of the Palazzo Pubblico.

Then come small boys with arms outstretched and garlanded with long laurels; seven horsemen representing the non-competing districts, and six riders in armor, honoring the many defunct contrade . In final place is an ox-drawn wagon bearing this year’s Palio banner (a new one is commissioned for each race); four elderly men representing the financial committee of the old republic of Siena; seven trumpeters, and a boy ringing a bell. The Palio banner is placed in the judge’s stand and the square’s entrance sealed off to latecomers.

Although the procession is two hours long and everyone is anxious, no one stirs. Whether the audience is mesmerized by its pageantry, as I was, quietly paying tribute to its significance or simply waiting patiently for the race to begin, I couldn’t tell. But it is an exceptionally lovely procession in one of the most beautiful and architecturally exquisite squares in all of Italy.

At about 7:30 (it is still light), the cannon sounds again. The track is cleared and the mounted jockeys appear after being frisked and handed smalls whips reportedly made from calf penises. As they head for the starting point--a roped-off area of the track called a canapo --their positions are being determined by a (presumably unbiased) mechanical device and announced from the judges’ stand. One by one, each horse enters the cordoned-off area, beginning with the first position.

The minute the 10th horse’s head enters the canapo , the rope is dropped and the race, which lasts only a couple of minutes, begins. But it’s never that simple. The horses are nervous and tired from all the rituals, and they never stay in their assigned order. Or the jockeys jostle them into better positions. Inevitably, there are many false starts. Since starting positions are crucial, the crowd gets raucous and pandemonium is barely restrained.

As fate would have it, however, the Palio I attended last July 2 never occured. At least not on schedule. After two hours, the judges called it off. According to one Italian newspaper, it was only the second time in this century the race was postponed.

It was all very confusing to an outsider, but this is how it was explained to me: Shell’s jockey, having drawn 10th position, knew he didn’t stand a chance against archenemy Ram, which had drawn first position. Thus for two hours, Shell’s jockey steadfastedly refused to enter the canapo , apparently hoping that somehow some of the other horses would fall out, or Ram would give up its place and Shell would sneak in. This never happened, even though the crowd taunted the jockey and hurled oaths at the Shell contradaioli.

Later I learned from a newspaper that it was even more complicated than that. There were additional reasons the judges had postponed the race: 1) one horse was in front of the canapo ; 2) a jockey refused to align, and 3) another rider was obstructing his enemy’s horse. All of this only underscores how difficult it is for anyone but insiders to follow the Palio’s Byzantine machinations.

In any case, race night was no cause for celebration. Townspeople shrugged their shoulders and pronounced the proceedings shameful. Later, after officials met with contrade captains all over the city to determine what should be done, we were told that the race--minus the procession--would be rescheduled for the following night. Our tickets would still be valid. But for myself and others, the race would be anticlimactic. Besides, I had reservations in the old yachting harbor of Portofino, and was anxious to get there.

Thus, I watched the July, 1991, Palio on TV the next evening as I sipped Campari and tonic at an air-conditioned bar on the Mediterranean. This time it took only 10 minutes for all the horses to enter the canapo . Turtle won, for the first time in 19 years, and there was cause for much celebration. She-Wolf’s horse came in second, although it was ahead until Turtle’s horse passed it on the last go around the Curva del Casato. Owl took third. During the race, many of the jockeys fell (a horse can win even if it’s riderless) on the first lap. Panther’s jockey caused Ram’s to tumble, later followed by Shell’s, Wave’s, Snail’s and Forest’s.

As for the horses, Wave’s horse was so badly injured in a spill at the Curva del San Martino that they had to shoot it. This is, unfortunately, an all-too-regular occurrence. In total, six out of the 10 horses fell here, in what is considered to be the Palio’s most dangerous turn. There were the usual inevitable outcries from various animal associations, and statements regarding inhumane treatment by such luminaries as Brigitte Bardot, Princess Anne and film director Franco Zeffirelli, among others. Needless to say, they fell on deaf ears in Siena.

GUIDEBOOK

Medieval Pageantry in Siena, Italy

Getting there: Fly to either Rome or Milan. Alitalia is the only airline that flies nonstop to Milan from Los Angeles; lowest advance-purchase fare is $1,050 round trip. Delta, American and TWA have direct flights to both Milan (lowest fare is about $1,050) and Rome (about $1,150). For those who can afford it, the ideal way to get to Siena is by rental car; the city is not on the railroad trunk line, and travelers must change trains at least once from any direction. A car will also make day trips to the surrounding Tuscan countryside more convenient. Most of the airlines have travel packages that include car rental. Otherwise, Kemwel or Europa Tours (Budget) generally have the cheapest rates for automatic transmission cars; expect to pay at least $466 per week.

Siena is about 30 miles from Florence, and about a five-hour drive from Milan and three hours from Rome.

Where to stay: The town fills up early for Palio, so early booking is essential, although there are still accommodations available for the July 2 and Aug. 16 Palios. Make sure that you have written confirmation of your reservations. I prefer staying within the city walls because parking in Siena is difficult. I recommend the Hotel Minerva (from U.S. phones, 011-39-577-284-474), a simple but immaculate hotel just inside the old walls that is inexpensive, quiet and has a garage; rates $85-$100. The Palazzo Ravizza (011-39-577- 280-462) is a romantic pension with great charm, but a bit run-down by American standards; rates $80-$90 plus demi-pension. The Jolly Hotel Excelsior (011-39-577-288- 448; rates $150-$290) is part of the nationwide chain that I consider the equivalent of Hyatt or Sheraton. If you prefer to stay in the countryside and money is no object, then the Certosa di Maggiano (011-39-577-288-180; rates start at about $300), a member of the luxury Relais et Chateaux association, is splendid. Situated in the oldest Carthusian monastery in Tuscany, it has tennis courts and a heated pool. (Rates above are approximate and are for a double room with bath.)

Food and drink: My two favorite restaurants near the Piazza del Campo are Osteria Le Logge (33 Via del Porrione), which draws a crowd equivalent to a trendy Los Angeles Italian trattoria , and Guido (7 Vicolo Pier Pettinaio), which is more atmospheric. Outside the city, Il Piccolo Castello in nearby Monteriggioni is a must. In the same town, Il Pozzo is recommended by friends, but I did not try it. If you follow the wine routes, stop at Il Molino delle Bagnaie, a converted mill with atmosphere.

Tickets for Palio: Although standing room in the center of the Piazza del Campo is free, every Palio finds thousands turned away as capacity is reached. Furthermore, the Tuscan heat and the shoving crowds, coupled with the lack of sightline, make it worthwhile to buy a ticket for a seat in one of the balconies or bleachers that ring the Campo. However, these are expensive (last year I paid $120 for a bleacher seat) and scarce as Palio approaches. For a list of merchants or organizations who sell tickets, call, write or fax the Siena tourist office at Azienda Autonoma di Tourismo, Piazza del Campo 56, 53100 Siena, Italy, 011-39-577-280-551, fax 011-39-577- 270-676. Better hotels can also arrange tickets.

For more information: The Italian Government Travel Office is now at 12400 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 500, Los Angeles 90025, (310) 820-0098.