It has been a long day. So long, in fact, that by
When we met up with Andrea and Natsuko in the central piazza, we all five promptly headed off to a bar for l’acqua and caffe. It was an incredibly hot day, just getting warmed up. When we could justify sitting under umbrellas no more, we headed off to visit with one of Andrea’s friends who was also working in his quarter. The “Medieval Festival,” it seems, actually dates back to the time it honors. Bevagna is divided into four quarters known as gaiti, or gates, which refers to the town having essentially four walls, each with its own entrance. Back in the day, the gaiti were fiercely competitive. Each had there own church, their own laws, etcetera. It got so territorial at times that the gaiti would put up chains across their borders, and anyone caught on the wrong side would be killed. (Suddenly Romeo & Juliet becomes credible in a whole new way.) The festival continues in this tradition with—we hope—less bloodshed, by forming itself as a competition in authenticity and entertainment between the four quarters. Andrea’s role in all this was to a play a sort of wandering clown for Gaite Sant Giorgio.
His friend whom first we met is a painter of icons and frescoes. This was an amazing visit. We went into the workshop he had set up for the event, and it’s hard to imagine anything more genuine. I couldn’t stop taking pictures. Essentially, he gave us the full tour and lecture on his technique, hours before he would be expected to do it for the public. From color making to charcoal graphing to gold leafing, it was fascinating. I couldn’t even understand a fifth of what the guy was actually saying, and it was still fascinating.
Afterwards we all went to lunch together in the main courtyard of Sant Giorgio, where later that night the quarter’s feats would be held. Sheets were hung at intervals, over tables still stacked atop with their benches, and we met other performers and artisans of the gaite who were there for their
When we woke, famished, the evening’s festivities were just getting under way. David couldn’t wait for one of the feasts to squelch his hunger, and we weren’t in a hurry to disagree (though I admit I might have waited for the experience) so we dove into the only open restaurant we could find in town. While there, Andrea found us, and whilst in character. He had donned a medieval tunic and accentuated it with his customary (and costume-ry) props, like a helmet and the collapsible sword I used for a scythe in our clown piece, and an ashtray breastplate, and was wearing a Pantalone mask. He was wildly funny, carousing with every person in reach like a drunken soldier on holiday. We agreed to meet up later for a drink, and we were off to the central piazza again to people-watch during passagiata. Everyone was out to impress that night, from packs of pre-teen boys to elderly couples walking hand-in-hand. We agreed that the festival was really just an excuse for a super-passagiata.
After wine with Andrea and Natsuko David decided he was feeling spry and we left our monastical digs to drive the two hours back to the agriturismo. I was asleep before we got out of Toscana. The love of this country wears me right out.