Arezzo

It is late summer here in Tuscany—the color of the crops is beginning to shift from stalk to fruit as the heat of September harkens the next season. Back home it is the time of year when cross town rivalries are hashed out on football fields by pimply-faced, spindly teenagers. And here, in Tuscany, they too consider this time of year as an opportunity to settle the score. Only we are not talking turf, pigskins, and the potential for college sports scholarships. Nah, it’s more archaic than that. We’re talking a medieval display of sportsmanship—jousting. Yep, that’s right. And last weekend I happened to catch just such an event.

Arezzo, a 16 minute train from C. Fio, was hosting their biannual Giostra del Saracino, the Saracen Joust of Arezzo. The festival dates back to the middle ages and is full of costume, ceremony, and, of course, competition. To city is divided into quarters with two jousters representing each district. The jousters ride down the center of the Piazza Grande to strike the Saracen—a metal dummy with a large clubbed fist. The team of jousters who strike the Saracen with the most accuracy and style win the competition for their quarter. In true Italian style, the rivalry is fierce; insults hurl, spit flies, and fists pump. These townspeople are serious.

To illustrate the atmosphere of this cross-town equestrian standoff I’ll tell you of an event that happened at the pre-festival banquet. It was 2 nights before the joust and everyone of note in the Culcitrone quarter was dining together when 4 sweetly dressed school age girls from a rival quarter shuffled up in front of the banqueters. In their hands they carried a banner. The girls smiled, giggled and dropped the banner open for the crowd. Written on the banner in bold letters were the sporting words: “You all are pieces of shit.”

But it is all in good fun. I heard another story of a smartly clad signorina hurling a ribbon of profanity to her opponents that would have made my grandpa blush only to later run across the court at event end to deliver them a cheerful, good-natured hug.

Here are some photos from the parade before the event depicting the scale of the pageantry. All 4 quarters of the city were represented by a procession of trumpeters, drummers, swordsmen, crossbowmen, noble people, and, of course, the jousters in their respected festive colors. The processions seemed to be traveling in every direction of the town and all afternoon. One minute our path uphill would be interrupted by a wave of yellow and blue, and then, 45 minutes later, we’d have to stop for purple and gold headed in the opposite direction. It was such a riot to be sipping an espresso or shopping for scarves when suddenly our chests would thump from the drums passing by again.

All the people show support for the team by wearing scarves in the motif of their quarter.