Calcio Storico (historic Football)

The day finally arrived. I was rather anxious because I still hadn't figured out how to get tickets for this historic event. This event has been taking place in this piazza since the 1300's! and I didn't want to miss it. The entire neighborhood was buzzing starting about 3 pm. The police started showing up and slowly blocking all roads into the piazza. Jonathan warned me that it may be difficult to leave the area and come back but I didn't really believe him. I went down around 3 to try to find tickets. I met a woman from school whose husband is Italian and we figured out that we had to buy tickets at the Verdi Theater which is right next door to the piazza. We dashed over there and got our tickets. I was so relieved. While I was getting my tickets all roads back to the Piazza were closed. I tried every road and no one would let me in. Even when I told them I lived there I was not allowed in. Finally, I got frustrated and pleaded in my bad Italian and they finally ushered me all the way to my door. I'm not sure why security was so tight. I went up to the room and got Jonathan. I heard there was a parade at 4 but that never happened. at about 4:30 we went to our seats. I couldn't believe this was our little piazza. It now looked like a huge sports stadium. They have been putting this all together for several weeks. They even hauled a ton of sand to put down over the entire piazza. The event started around 4:45. The opening ceremony took an hour. Flag throwers, drummers, trumpeters and lots of people just marching in traditional costumes. The game started about 6:00. I didn't know what to expect but I didn't definatley didn't expect waht I saw. I don't really know how to explain this sport. It's definitely not soccer, it's not American football. I would call it a mix between rugby, boxing and wrestling. All over the field players were wrestling each other and just holding them there down on the sand. Once they had enough players down they would try to run the ball through and score. The entire end of the field was the net. There were very few rules. Hitting, kicking were allowed. The umpires did stop anything which was too violent. This event was so violent that a player bit off the ear of another player. This game was stopped by the police and completely canceled last year. I guess that 's why there was so much security around. Even the fans got wild in the past. This year was very tame in comparison. Thank goodness. The game lasted about 80 minutes. A very fascinating and bizarre experience.

Jonathan reading Francis of Assis before the game starts. What a nerd!

People watching from the windows around the square.

The Santo Spirito Fans

The ceremony begins.

John, can you believes this is where you were?



The game begins.

What are they doing?

Is this a social dance?

Oh, sweetie, isnt' the sunset beautiful!

The winning team, Santa Croce, celebrates with the fans!

Jonathan wishing he could take part!

from Jonathan, a small fiction:

HOUSE.
(from At Home With the Pumpkin King)

The farmhouse, our ancestral home, was three hundred years old and held together only with tape, by eleven generations of quick fixes. This was the eerie and unlikely house where I was raised, and which later, at some unspecified time, I became. Our home was something we made up as we went along, using ruins and electrical tape. When it fell down, we propped it up: we improvised.

Nowhere was this more evident than in the wiring. The house was not suited to electricity. We ought to have kept, as our ancestors had, to lanterns, sparklers and djinn. As it was, the wiring was entirely jerry-rigged, stuffed here and there, running through walls, across rooms, and prone to improbable and calamitous connections.

If you unplugged the bedside lamp in the four-poster bedroom, the entire house went black. The washer, dryer, vacuum, blender and waffle pan could all be used at once, no problem. To use the toaster we had to turn off all the lights.First thing in the morning my mother in the kitchen would cry out, “Prepare to toast!” And my brothers and I would run through the house making sure everything was off before shouting, “Toast away!”

When I was young I didn’t understand why we did this. Or, rather, I understood differently. I had a very special third grade teacher* who taught the world’s religions, all at once, with mantras on the chalkboard and yarmulkes and an arrow on the ceiling to remind us which way was Mecca.I’d learned about the taboo or privileged status of pork, tobacco, orgone boxes, kopal and cows. I made no distinction between electricity and the holy spirit. I assumed our religion was one of toasting.

When my mother bought a new toaster, I cried sacrilege and insisted on keeping the ousted toaster in my bedroom, where I improvised a shrine with nag champa, baseball cards and a stolen yarmulke.

I was a lucky child: the range of acceptable behavior in my family was extraordinarily wide.

The world was reputed to be full of mystery, and no one minded if I bowed my head reverentially as we stood in the dark kitchen and watched the coils of the toaster begin to glow orange.



* Mr Griffith, I remember him fondly. He was a holy man--confused, but holy. If he ever became the prophet of a new religion--which I do not necessarily recommend--all his followers would wear maroon corduroys.

A dramatic thunderstorm on a hill overlooking Firenze!

Yesterday and the day before I spent on a hill overlooking Firenze. It has taken me five weeks to make it up there. It totally changed my feeling toward the city. The view is spectacular as you will see in these pictures. These pictures I took on Sunday but yesterday I wish I had my camera because the weather was so dramatic. I decided to study up there. I was sitting in the sun for two hours when suddently I felt some water on my neck. I thought someone was splashing me with water as the sun was still shining. Then I realized there was one black cloud right over the church where I was sitting. It started raining rather hard so I had to take cover. I watched as the rain swept across the city. Then lightening and crackling thunder hit. It was very dramatic. It didn't, however, rain THAT hard. I waited a while. There were still dark clouds coming in but it just wouldn't rain so I finally decided to head down the hill back home. Well, just as I was leaving it the heavens let loose. I got soaked but did find cover in a little cafe. I just stood there reading my book for about an hour until it let up a bit and I could walk home. A fun day. I love thunderstorms. They always remind me of Iowa.

Events to look forward to in our front yard!

Calcio Storico

Testosterone abounds when four teams of 27 youths apiece face each other during the Historic Football, or Calcio Storico, a 15th-century style tournament of fighting and football in Florence's Piazza Santa Croce.
The game itself is said to originate from an ancient Roman ball sport, which became a Florentine speciality in the golden age of the Tuscan capital. Once the sport of princes and noblemen, who used its violence to prove their own skill and strength (for the benefit of the watching damsels), it is now fiercely fought between young men of the four Florentine quarters: San Giovanni, Santa Maria Novella, Santo Spirito and Santa Croce. Clad in medieval garters and pantaloons, players seem more preoccupied with attacking each other than putting the ball anywhere, though the rules of Calcio Storico in themselves are fairly complex. The aim is to seize the ball and put it in the net (which runs the entire width of the pitch) by whatever means available. Precision is everything, as misses and interceptions provide points for the other team. The winners are rewarded with a mass of steaks equivalent in weight to the more traditional prize of a white calf or bistecca fiorentina, which was historically butchered for the occasion. Great entertainment for enthusiastic spectators, but a pitch invasion is probably a bad idea. This event was cancelled last year because it became to violent in 2006. Not sure if I want to see this or not. The bleachers are already set up. Next they will fill the entire piazza with sand. Amazing!!

My pictures to come...

Bologna

Just down the train tracks about an hour is the town of Bologna. We read it is the culinary capital of Italy so we thought we would check it out. Who hasn't heard of Bolognese spaghetti sauce? It was a beautiful, sunny day but we threw in our umbrellas just in case as the weather has been very strange lately. It's a good thing we did that because it rained much of the time we were there. We got to the station. We hadn't checked on train times but assumed there would be lots of trains. There were. The next train, however, was a Eurostar which means its twice the cost. We paid 19 Euro each instead of 9 Euro each. We had 45 minutes before the
next train so we sat outside on the grass in front of the station watching a little
Asian boy chase the pigeons.
We were hungry when we got to Bologna. We were looking forward to the best food in Italy! Well... scroll down to the first picture and you will see what happened!

YES! Our first McDonalds in Europe and it's in Bologna! And it was 15 Euro!! One should never have expectations.

As we were walking around, we liked what we saw. We really liked the architecture with the red bricks. The buildings were painted a variety of reds and oranges. We just walked around and took it all in and then got on the 8:15 bus back to Firenze. We met a group of 4 young American travelers in our compartment. They were spread out all over the place when we opened the door. They all had hangovers. We had a very eye opening conversation with them all the way back. I learned a lot about this new generation, the drinking and drug taking. They talked about classmates who had died from strange combinations of drugs and alcohol. They talked about students who can only study if they are on certain drugs. I know this all goes on but it's shocking when you hear it from kids who do it themselves. The only drug I ever took studying in university was NO DOZE. That probably doesn't even exist anymore.
Anyway, another good day. What a joy to be able to explore like this. It's incredible how each town creates their own world. These towns were all built in different centuries so they all have a unique look. The people, as well, are a world apart from people from a town an hour away. Bologna felt more like real Italy as there weren't as many tourists. All for now. Tomorrow we are off to yet another Tuscan town with our friend Marta who works in a stationary store down the street.

Our culinary treat in Bologna!

a display in a store window

The leaving tower of Bologna. There used to be hundreds of these towers. There are only five left.

The streets of Bologna.

modern art

Couldn't resist taking the next two pictures...

glad to see they had humor way back then

minutes before it down poured

From the writings of Jonathan Mack

Finally I Had It All Worked Out

On the first day at the monastery in Taize, Brother Pedro explained the book of Genesis. He told us all about the irony of creation, about God’s irony, about our participation in that irony. Wow, I thought, maybe I can relate to Christianity after all. I have often thought that God must have a wicked sense of irony. Brother Pedro explained that we just needed to find our place in God’s irony. Sitting there on my folding metal chair, I thought I had a whole worldview pretty well worked out.Then I realized that Brother Pedro was from Madrid and what he was saying was harmony. He was talking all about God’s harmony, of which there are not so many examples, it seems to me, as of God’s irony.