Buona sera!
So, we're still in Siena. It's been our "base of operations" for our tours of Tuscano. Today we took an actual break, and have just lounged around the city and the hotel room.
It turns out that our stay in Siena managed to coincide somewhat with their Palio celebration -- a yearly city-wide festival that culminates on 2 July with a crazy, barebacked horse race around the main campo. This race is a competition between neighborhoods of Siena, and in the week leading up to it (NOW!) they have trial runs and tests to reduce a field of 400 horses down to 10. We won't be here on the 2nd - my dad will be with my step-mom in London, and I will be on my way back to Los Angeles.
But we've managed to catch some of the trials. This morning, we wandered down to the campo to catch some of the trials. As we were standing on the perimiter trying to catch sight of some of the horsies, I moved to the other side of the street to try and catch a better view.
As I stood there, straining to see along with the rest of the crowd around us, this BEAUTIFUL young woman with short, wavy black hair, a wonderful smile, and wearing low rise jeans and a burgundy short sleeved shirt came up next to me.
We were between heats at that point, and as we stood there craning our necks, she turned to me and asked a question in rapid fire Italian -- presumably asking if there was going to be another run today. I had to say to her what I've had to say to a few people here, though never with as much regret, "Ah, Americano.... sorry." She smiled, laughed, nodded and shrugged.
I said, "Yes, there should be one more shortly," adding various gestures that probably helped not at all. She smiled and nodded politely. "I only know about six words in Italian," I said. She smiled and laughed and nodded. I have no idea how much she understood.
She was short, and not having an easy time seeing over the crowd in front of us. Suddenly, I was hyper-aware of the immediate area, constantly looking for someplace she could move to (but not TOO far away), where she could get a better view. Twice the crowd shifted slightly, and I tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to an area where she might see better. Each time she smiled and nodded and moved to where I indicated.
Finally, a cannon blast announced the next round of horses entering the track. We both jumped at the report. The horses and their riders began a few practice trots around the field.
Just before she had arrived, I had been thinking about going to find a bathroom somewhere, even if it meant missing a heat, but now I was riveted to the spot.
Another cannon blast announced the start of the heat, and the horses began racing around the track, as we both (along with everyone else) strained to watch. As one of the riders rounded our corner, he fell from his horse, and we all let out a cry of alarm. The race finished, but all the horses continued to circuit a few more times, particularly the riderless horse, which continued to run at full speed.
She turned to me laughing and said, "is still going?"
"Si," I said. "But they are trying to stop it," thrusting my arms out to the side, as if I was pretending to be an airplane, mimicking the trainers who were, in fact, trying to stop the riderless horse.
She laughed and nodded and looked back out at the track.
But that was the last heat of the morning, and shortly after they got the horse under control, they lifted up the gates blocking our access to the dirt track and the great campo. The crowd began to break up, and she picked up her things, which she'd set at her feet. We looked at each other with a smile, said "Ciao," and tried to go our seperate ways.
Except we were both headed in toward the campo, and a short distance away, we were standing next to each other again. She turned to me with yet another smile and asked, "Eh.... this is for the two? Eh.... The two of July?"
"Si," I said. "That is the day."
And with that, she smiled again and said, "Okay. Gratze. Ciao." "Ciao."
And then we really did go our seperate (continued...)