Una Festa

Friday was una festa, a holiday, and Cortona was filled to the brim with visitors; Italians, Americans and otherwise. April 25 is a holiday to celebrate some facet of the end of WWII. There was a parade of local dignitaries in Piazza della Repubblica, lead by a marching band. The band contained men of all ages, the older ones not even needing music as they have no doubt played these songs for various celebrations for many a year. The younger men, teenagers, riffled through their music and chatted and laughed in self-conscious embarrassment at being the center of so much attention. The local dignitaries cut an elegant figure in their beautifully crisp uniforms of dark green and blue, with gaily colored sashes and sparkling medals.

Saturday was even more exciting as large numbers of men, women, and children dressed in richly colored medieval consumes were lead into the Piazza accompanied by drummers and introduced to the growing throngs. The women wore elaborate costumes of satins, silks, and brocades with decorative ribbons, metallic braid, and lace. The men wore similar tunics and many wore tights. I noticed a group of these beautifully dressed people gathered below my apartment on via Roma, but not near so many as were assembled in the piazza. Perhaps there were different groups to represent the different neighborhoods of the city. Some young men were even carrying crossbows. I wonder if they compete in the archery competition later in the year or if that is only for the more traditional bow shooters.

I did not have a great view, having arrived late because I did not realize festivities were going on, so had to content myself with standing on the step of the Hat and Umbrella shop, owned by a man who looks disturbingly like my Uncle Lee. I carefully inched to the left, as other bystanders on the porch gradually vacated, giving me a slightly better view. Young men and women came into the pizza carrying large banner –like flags and performed a variety of weaving maneuvers, dipping and raising their brilliantly colored flags to the steady drum beat. Sometimes they even gathered together and whirled in a large circle, flags outstretched, like a giant pinwheel. Next, another group with smaller green and white flags came into the piazza and began to hurl their flags high into the air, then snatched them mid-flight with the flag never touching ground. Sometimes they caught their own flags and sometimes the flags of others. Not one flag was dropped. Excitement built when some of the more experienced flag throwers began to hurl their flags 20-30 feet into the air. Some tried to throw their flags over a power cable which was fastened above the third story of the Molesini Enoteca! Wild cheers accompanied each unsuccessful attempt. The brisk winds blew the flags just off course of the power line and made the successful capture of each fluttering banner all the more impressive.

Sunday, I was just not feeling 100%, so lay around most of the day, other than a quick zip through an antique market which sets up in Piazza Signorelli the last Sunday of each month. I called Tim and the boys at 7:30 for a 30 minute conversation which has done much to restore me. I really needed to touch base with them as I was getting quite homesick. Jordan is getting ready for his Junior Prom and Logan was excited about the results of his report card. Both are excited about the leather belts I bought them in San Gimignano, and both are disappointed I’ve had gelato without them!