The first raindrops fell on the square in Siena shortly before 6pm and it was sweet relief after a day baking in 33c sunshine. But as the sand and clay track started to spatter, the 60,000-odd people packed inside the temporary perimeter grew nervous.
Some had already spent three or four hours in the Piazza del Campo, patiently guarding spots close to the fence for the best view of the one-kilometre bareback horse race known as the Palio di Siena.
A collective groan went up at the emergence of the dreaded green flag on the Palazzo Pubblico (Town Hall). No race today.
The Palio is far more than just a horse race though. It is heritage. It is pageantry. It is local pride.
The Sienese obsession takes place twice a year, on 2 July and 16 August, both of which are Catholic feast days associated with the Virgin Mary.
It is contested by the medieval city's 17 contrade (districts), which started out as military catchment areas and profession-specific wards when Siena was a republic but are now neighbourhood societies centred around a church and hall. They used to compete against each other in everything from team boxing to bull-fighting until settling on horse racing in 1633.
Each contrada has its own unique colours, motto and symbol, often an animal. There are alliances and fierce rivalries, with noisy neighbours or a crowd that blaggarded yours at some point over the last 391 years. It's all a bit Harry Potter. But you wouldn't say that to their face.
The emblems of the contrade
As you walk the streets of Siena in a straight line from the northern gate of Porta Camollia, the decorated lamp-posts and flags signal the flow of borders, Istrice (Crested Porcupine) giving way to bitter enemies Lupa (She-Wolf), then Bruco (Caterpillar), Civetta (Little Owl), Giraffa (Giraffe), Leocorno (Unicorn), Nicchio (Shell) and Valdimontone (Ram).
Aquila, the eagle, is the current Nonna (grandmother). That is, the contrada waiting longest for a victory – 1992 was their last win. Not quite Mayo standards.
For safety reasons, only ten of the 17 districts are allowed to take part in each race: the seven who missed out on the previous year's edition plus three more drawn randomly. That's not all that's decided by chance; the horses are collectively chosen from a wider group after a morning trial three days before the race and then assigned by lot.
There are six trial runs over the next three days, up to the morning of the race itself. The horse cannot be changed but the jockey can. The men or women (so far only Rosanna Bonelli in 1957) with the reins in hand are only confirmed at noon on the final day and can drive astronomical bidding wars for their services, rumoured to be up to half a million euro to win. Both jockey and horse are closely guarded to ward against interference from rivals.
I arrive in Siena at noon on Friday 16 August with my fellow tourists Max and Madalena, and the buzz is already building inside the medieval walls of this charming Tuscan city. Despite the big event, it's a more affordable place than historic rival Florence.
The first thing to do is pick a team and pay €10 (or €15 if they see you coming) for a square scarf to knot around the shoulders. Max is Italian and already indoctrinated into Nicchio via an older brother. Madalena chooses Valdimontone for linguistic harmony and I opt for Istrice as it is the closest contrada to where we are staying. If you prick me, I now bleed Porcupine.
An Istrice scarf in the square
Every contrada blesses their horse at the local church around 3pm. We make our way towards the Nicchio church, arriving just after the blessing but in time to see a display of flag tossing and a parade of men (very few women seem directly involved in any of the rituals) in full medieval gear: armour, colourful leggings and hats with built-in long hair. It looked a sweaty ensemble for Italy in August.
Max is told off by a local for asking one of the costumed men if we have missed the blessing of Brivido Sardo (Sardinian Thrill). Though it attracts tourists, this is very much an event for the Sienese, who take it extremely seriously.
One youngster tells me that your contrada winning the Palio is "better than winning the World Cup". Fights have been known to break out between rival supporters – we are gently warned against standing beside a certain group in the square.
Nicchio contrada members in costume (Picture: Bolinho)
And there is lots of standing. If you are willing to pay hundreds for a spot on one of the privately rented balconies or temporary grandstands around the Piazza del Campo then you can breeze in right up until before the race (around 7.30pm) and take your seat. Your other choices are to arrive in the scrum via the last remaining entrance from Via Dupré (up until 6.45pm) or go early and stake a spot.
The shell-shaped square is not flat - it is raised around the edges and dips sharply in the middle, meaning late arrivals won't see much other than the jockeys heads. We land in at 3.30pm and the best positions in the shaded west side have already gone but we manage to stake out a place reasonably close to the (temporary) wooden fence, opposite the town hall on the south edge.
It is hot. Some smart people have brought umbrellas for the sun, which also turn out to be useful, in the more traditional sense, later on. Others improvise with towels or scarves under hats. Children under 12 and sealed bottles are not allowed in the square, for differing safety concerns.
There are stalls selling cold drinks and snacks but those looking for something stronger must cross the track and make it back in before the stewards start to seal the gates around 4.30pm. There is no access to toilets from this time until after the race so beer is not your friend in any case.
The historical parade before the race
At 5pm, the Corteo Storico (historical procession) begins with the parade of mounted Carabinieri (police), who finish with a thrilling charge commemorating a battle in the first Italian War of Independence. This is followed by hundreds of costumed marchers and riders: musicians, flag-bearers and representatives of city institutions like the military, church and judiciary. Drummers, the jockey and flag bearers for each of the 17 contrada.
Then the star of the show, the Drappellone, the hand-painted silk banner which serves as a trophy and is a unique design each year. The whole thing lasts about two hours. Except today.
The first rain we've seen all week doesn't seem that heavy to Irish sensibilities but the dirt track cuts up quickly and given there are already sharp turns and frequent falls – the curve of San Martino is almost 90 degrees and the wall has to be padded – no risks are taken.
Eight horses have died since the turn of the millennium, most recently in 2018. After two and a half hours in the square, the green flag emerges. Race postponed. The crowd grumble but the caution is quickly justified as a torrent falls from the skies over the next hour and everyone scatters towards shelter.
It's bad luck for anyone scheduled to leave on Saturday. Thankfully, we're not but the forecast is for more thunderstorms. The FOMO eases throughout the following afternoon though as the weather gods take pity on those just in town for the event.
The treacherous San Martino corner, with padded walls, hours before the race
We're back in the square a little later (4pm) on Saturday but it's far more empty as it has been decided not to rerun the Corteo Storico. Not everyone approves of this decision, feeling it is as important a part of the process as the race.
It's a more bearable 27c today, with a gentle breeze, and an umbrella has been purchased. We land a spot right on the fence, beside Antonio and Marco, Andrea and Nico, a group of young men from Faenza near Bologna. They were supporting Civetta, having been allowed to attend the contrada dinner on Thursday night, one of the activities that helps to pay for jockeys, and their pre-race deals...
There is room to sit until around 6pm when the Piazzo begins to fill up. Fans are streaming in until almost just after 6.40 when the standard bearers of each of the 17 contrade – including those sitting it out - emerge and start to gee the fans up with a display of flag tossing. The horses arrive around 7pm. Almost time now. Well, not quite.
The Piazza del Campo full, just before the race
It might not be as decadent and depraved as the Kentucky Derby but the Palio has its own unique madness.
As well as randomly drawn horses, the starting position is decided by lot just beforehand. An inside place is considered advantageous. The supporters of Onda, Istrice and then Lupa loudly cheer as their name is called. Being tenth, aka the Rincorsa (run-in), confers the consolation prize of deciding when the race starts. This time that goes to jockey Bellocchio of Civetta (Owl) and now the real fun begins.
Bribes (to help allies or at least hamper enemies) are perfectly legal and budgeted for by the contrade, depending on how highly they rate their chances. It doesn't matter whether the jockey completes the three laps – and they often don't - as long as the winning horse does, but as the animal can't speak it's up to the pilots to negotiate on their behalf.
The race will only begin when the Rincorsa, having concluded his side deals, decides to run in between the two ropes where the other nine are lined up to the satisfaction of the starter (mossiere).
This process drags on for over 40 minutes and for a while there is a real fear that the whole event could be postponed again due to lack of light. It wouldn't be the first time.
The Istrice (R) and Civetta jockeys before the race
Two sets of bitter rivals, Istrice-Lupa and Valdimontone-Nicchio, are drawn alongside each other and this leads to an interminable squabble, with horses pulling out of line and turning around as they are crowded and bumped.
Istrice's favourite Viso d'Angelo, with Tittia up, is having particular trouble keeping his place. Fans howl at the perceived skullduggery hampering their man. Every so often, the starter gives up and sends them all out for a breather before trying again.
Five resets in, Civetta makes a move but they are called back for a false start by a cannon that makes everybody jump. The Valdimontone jockey is pitched head first over the starting rope by his horse but he's OK. After the tenth reset, Civetta goes again - at first glance after a nod from Istrice, one of their allies - and we're finally underway.
A view of the first lap of the August 2024 Palio di Siena from the fence pic.twitter.com/R4vGpvwb6L
— Eoin Ryan (@eoinryan101) August 31, 2024
A wave of noise and colour washes past us, a few feet from the fence. You wouldn't lean out too far. The tight turns mean the Palio will never be quite as quick as a racecourse track but it's much more intense and all over very quickly.
It's a straightforward race by usual standards. Onda and Istrice hamper each other at the first corner and the third-placed Lupa (she-wolf) horse Benitos, ridden by Dino Pes, grabs a lead it will hold around the three frantic laps. There are no fallers in the 73 seconds.
Nicchio and Valdimontone are well off the pace so the jockeys content themselves with aiming a few slaps of the whip – made from dried bulls' penises - at each other, also allowed.
The full race
For Pes, aka Velluto (Velvet) the oldest jockey in the race at 44, it is a first Palio victory. The delirious Lupa supporters rush to mob him and debutant runner Benitos, ignoring their own safety by standing in the path of the other horses and shoving those of us still lingering by the fence out of the way to leap it.
There's no hanging around for a presentation ceremony - Lupa members immediately clamber up onto a balcony to retrieve the banner which is rightfully theirs, for the first time since 2018.
The celebrations match those at the final whistle of an All-Ireland final but go on for hours. Hiding the Istrice scarf, and putting on a brave face, I join the procession to the packed cathedral (Duomo) - the horse is blessed again and warmed down in the square as Lupa supporters of all ages parade Velluto inside and then sing on the steps.
We eventually slip away for dinner. But over an hour later encounter the black, white and orange faithful are still marching joyously around the streets. Many of those who aren't drumming are sucking soothers – to celebrate the newly 'born' Palio.
Where are they going? To the square of course, where restaurant tables have reclaimed the track, to remind all of Siena, but especially Istrice, that they are the champions.
It's their city now. Until next year at least.
Lupa fans celebrate with the Drapellone and Velluto in front of the Duomo
