Fireworks extravaganza

Let me begin by describing the scene. We are in a medieval village, 700 years old, constructed on the peak of a hill about 40 km south east of Rome. It is U shaped as it is carved out of a hillside that curves sharply around a deep valley. When you stand around the perimeter stone wall that is waist high you look over a void, more or less as you would if you were in the very top row of the stands at the MCG when there is nothing happening on the field below.

There is a beautiful old pedestrian village behind you and tonight there are food and drink outlets serving customers at the annual festa. There are tables set up on the streets and bands set up at either end of the village and generally there is a carnival atmosphere wafting through the crowd of about 5,000, ten times the actual population of the village. People have come from far and wide, not just for the great atmosphere, the food and music and great company but also because tonight is the annual fireworks display.

Now every Italian village has its annual festa and most mark the occasion with fireworks of varying description but tonight thousands of law abiding folks have flocked to a tiny old village on top of a steep hill to watch someone light crackers! Well that's because they have been told that these are no run-of-the-mill fire crackers on show tonight. And they are corretto! This fireworks display is nothing like others. It's much more like the New Year's Eve display over Sydney Harbour Bridge! And it is being conducted in a tiny old village on the peak of a hill 40 km from a major city at midnight in the middle of the working week.

I have been at pains to paint the scene because describing what happens in the 20 minutes following the stroke of midnight defies accurate narration. I will do my best but I will fail miserably in this mission because there are a lot of words that haven't yet been invented to describe what unfolded in that black void that stretches in the midst of the arched grandstand holding 5,000 sets of eyes mesmerised by what they see. It is one continuous show that provides an ever-changing aurora of colours and shapes and animated display of stars chasing other stars across a patch of sky.

See, I told you I don't have the words! Sydney Harbour on New Year's Eve is a spectacular exhibition of pyrotechnics on a huge black backdrop and it is stunning. What you see at Paliano is something different. All the pyrotechnics are there but they capture a section of the sky framed by the valley, the hills and the trees. It is all that light energy concentrated in one section like a huge movie theatre screen and the display you see is breathtakingly unbelievable. I tell you there are 5,000 sets of eyes that are trained on one part of the sky and they do not move - do not blink - for 20 minutes.

There is a lot of noise - the same as someone firing both barrels of a 12 gage shotgun right up against your ear - but you are so intent on watching the display unfold that you block out the cannon fire. You feel the exploding of each firework as it bursts into brilliant colour by the beating of your shirt against your chest as it responds to each blast but you can't take your attention away from the visual extravaganza.

Then it builds to a crescendo. That framed patch of sky is filled - more than filled - with a stunning array of colour and patterns and light energy that truly feels like an orgasm. Then it stops and the 5,000 spellbound spectators are released from their trance and they applaud. Some pick up their stuff and their bambini and start to move away, towards their cars - many, like mine, parked nearly 2 km away down the hill - and then four salvos from the launching cannon trace a path through the sky and, when ascended about 30 metres they send out a blast to tell everyone the show is not quite over! Then for another five minutes that patch of sky gets all hell ripped out of it by the most amazing spectacle of colour and lights and pyrotechnic animation that you will see anywhere.

You think that it is simply not possible to fire that many pyro rockets - not possible to fit so much light into a tiny part of the universe - not possible to make so many images in the sky all at one time in a patch of sky at a tiny old village on the top of a steep hill in the middle of nowhere. But I was there and I saw it. And you should too.

It's 3am and I am sitting on my balcony telling my closest mates about something you don't see that often. Not as rare as the lunar eclipse but every bit as spectacular and you owe it to yourself to see it at least once in your lifetime.

Scratch this on the fridge:
Midnight 16 August Paliano, Lazio. Any year.

You'll thank me for it!