Chasing feste

My next door neighbour, Domenico, is a single Italiano aged 79 (you'd think I was pulling your pud if you didn't know me so well - or if you saw him). He spent 50 years in the restaurant business, the only job he ever had, and he likes to have a good time so each weekend he fills up his Fiat Punto with his mates (strangely virtually all female - except for me) and we do over the local festas - which are presumably saints days turned into an extravaganza of tucker, birra and music. Every village has a saint and the cunning buggers arrange it (deliberately) so that none of them ever clash which is another way of saying that they are consecutive - meaning that the die-hards can arrange continuous summer entertainment.

A couple of observations:
1. The girls LOVE group dancing! This is where they all get up (these events attract a rollup of 200-300) so you have about 100 pairs of female tootsies all out on the huge dance floor in lines all following each other's every step. And the routine changes for each song so someone has to remember a host of steps and which set goes with what song! They are pretty smart so this vital information is entrusted to a handful of the most regular festa attendees - which happens, on most occasions, to be our good old Team Domenico!

2. You don't need to worry about being late! The one we attended last Sabato just up the road to Rocca Massima - walking distance actually - opened the gates at 7pm and we always like to greet the opener of the gates - which is really a phrase sans comprendo because these shows are always done in the open fields (where some cement truck driver has lost his way to a pour and has dumped a perfectly level and smooth square the same size as a decent dance floor) or in the village amphitheatre - most villages have one which is a place in the open with a stepped embankment arranged in a semi circle around a central stage with a fontana at one end and a sizeable flat area between stage and embankment about the size (if not the shape) of a dance floor or it's held in a piazza which is a nice big open space with a statue of Garibaldi, a water feature as well as or incorporating a fontana and a nicely paved area about the size of a huge dance floor.

Anyhow, diversions completo, returning to the story about not being late. Our team, accompanied by about 20 other riff-raff could have been forgiven for thinking we had cleaned out the porchetta panini and the birra by the time the rest of the attendees arrived some three hours later, at 10pm. But No! This was entirely anticipated by the organisers and the instant crowd of 200 who sprang out of nowhere didn't miss out on a thing! Not even the dancing because the live band didn't strike up until 10:30! I tell you we could learn a thing or two from these guys! In places ex-Italia the organisers of the show arrange what they are going to serve up and when and if you miss the event you go hungry, thirsty and dance-less. Here, in God's own country, the organisers anticipate the needs of the attendees and they supply all the stuff necessary when it's required, even if it is three hours later than someone's scheduled start time.

3. There is ALWAYS a live band. And they are ALWAYS absolutely superb. You would be astounded at the musical and vocal talent that abounds in this country. The bands at these events are usually local lads and lasses who do the gigs on the side but you would never know it by the quality and the professionalism of the performances.

4. I have never seen a drunk at any event. In fact I tell you I have not come across anyone intoxicated anywhere in this land in all the times I have been here. The Italiani are really moderate drinkers of alcohol. That includes consumption of birra. There is no such thing as alcohol fuelled violence or binge drinking anywhere in the nation. Absolutely NONE. It is simply not part of this culture. The only time you will see anyone doing something stupid under the influence of alcohol is when an English soccer team plays Roma and they bring in the louts in cross-channel buses.

Well that's my report on feste. Domenico awaits. I am late.