Carnival in Italy

By Patricia Winton

Christmas decorations—always on display in Italy until at least January 6—have barely been packed away. Babbo Natale (Santa Claus) still hangs by his rope ladder from a few balconies. Twinkling lights linger on lampposts here and there, but Italians, adults and children alike, are already preparing for the next celebration—Carnevale. 

Pope Benedict figure at 2008 Viarregio Parade

This pre-Lenten ritual offers adults ample opportunities to carouse in Venice or Viareggio. In Venice, adults dress in elaborate costumes and parade among the canals wearing hand-crafted masks. Venetian mask-makers enjoy a rarefied status, and their products are sold year round in alluring shops that invite residents and tourists alike to spend money. In Viareggio, parade floats mirror the artistry of Venetian masks. Originating in 1873, the Viareggio parade, which snakes along the sea, features giant caricatures of politicians, entertainers, and other famous people. No one is immune to being targeted. In both cities, adults party, dance, and drink.

That goes for other cities as well, but across lo stivale, the boot, children reign at carnival time. Until recently, Halloween didn’t figure in Italian celebrations, so Carnevale provided children a chance to dress up. Shops catering to children display elaborate costumes, and searching for just the right one is as intensive as shopping for the first day of school. But these costumes are not held for just one day. For the next couple of weeks, principesse (princesses) and pirati (pirates), Cappucetto Rosso (Little Red Riding Hood) and Ragno (Spiderman) will make their way to school, walk along the sidewalk, and play in the piazzas. Even babies get into the act as bumblebees and Teletubbies, though Tinky-Winky is known here as “Twinkle.”

Photo by pierofix via Photopin

Shops have stocked up on bags of confetti (called coriandoli, “coriander”) which little costumed creatures cast at passersby as they charge down the street. That’s the most innocuous of their weapons. Packs of festoni (streamers) hail from almost every shop. Children fling these tightly rolled paper strands along the pavement, too. It’s not uncommon to encounter Tinker Bell, or other characters, with these paper ribbons in her hair. The gutters are full of them on the festival wanes. Streamers are not only the realm of children, however; adults play with them, too. A couple of years ago, I went to a relatively staid event at a restaurant just before Martedì Grasso. While we waited for desert, the hostess distributed festoni, and we tossed them around the room like children—and we weren’t even in costume!

Carnevale in Venice

But the most nefarious weapon in the children’s carnival arsenal is Silly String. When little tykes are given a can by doting parents, they run around giggling with glee, squirting at anything that moves. It wouldn’t be so bad it they just targeted each other, but they often choose to ambush unsuspecting me. The stuff sticks to the sidewalks, and as Easter approaches, hapless doorkeepers are out with brooms trying to get the stuff up. During the solemn Lenten period, the colored tendrils clinging to the sidewalk gradually wear away from the footsteps grinding them. By the time Spring is in full swing, they have been forgotten. Fortunately, Silly String disappears with Lent, not to reappear until the following year.

Even on Palm Sunday, the week before Easter, children appear in their Carnevale finery, usually swathed in scarves and woolen hats to stave off the cold. And underneath those costumes, they’ll be bundled in sweaters and undervests. They carry their favorite weapons and battle it out in the piazzas after church.

I’m looking forward to watching the children in costume again this year. It’s a rite that proves Spring is indeed on the way.


Be sure to follow me at Novel Adventurers on alternate Thursdays. Next week I'm writing about shopping. 

Battle of the Oranges, A Carnival Tradition

Tomorrow is Martidì Grasso, Fat Tuesday, Marti Gras. From Rio de Janeiro to New Orleans to Venice, people are celebrating Carnival with gusto. The Battle of Oranges in Ivrea, Italy, stands out as one of the most unusual Carnival celebrations anywhere.

The event combines several moments in Ivrea’s history beginning with 1194 revolt by the peasants. According to legend, the revolt was sparked by Count Raineri di Biandrate, a bloody tyrant who, among other things, claimed his right to bedding brides on their wedding night. Known as the jus primae noctis, this practice symbolized all elements of this and other tyrants’ mistreatment of the common people. His last intended victim, Violetta, a miller’s daughter, chopped off his head with a sword she’d hidden under her dress rather than submit to his demands. Her act of defiance led to an uprising by the peasants against the Count’s troops. The peasants threw stones, and they won.

Violetta

A second revolt came in 1266 against Marquis of Monferrato. Both of these revolts are commemorated at Ivrea’s Carnival. A young woman is chosen to be Violetta each year, and her identity is a closely guarded secret until she’s presented to the throngs on the Saturday before Lent. She dresses in a white woolen robe with a sash of red, white, and green, Italy’s colors of freedom and liberty. Her head is adorned with a red cap with a long pointed peak that drapes over her shoulder (more about this cap later). She rides in a golden carriage and tosses candy and sprigs of mimosa to the crowds. Other people represent characters in the second revolt, and they follow along behind Violetta in the procession on foot.

Nobility Pelting Peasants

The Battle of Oranges then begins in earnest and continues over three days. The warriors representing the nobility arrive in decorated carts. They wear helmets and protective padding. The common people are on foot and unprotected. Each of the city’s districts has a distinctive team with unique costumes: Ace of Spades with a red jacket emblazoned with their symbol or the Chess team in black and white checked jackets marked with a red castle. 

Originally, each district had its own Carnival celebration and battle, but they were unified into one city-wide event during Napoleon’s reign in 1808.

Anyone can join the battle, but you must choose a team. Spectators who do not want to participate must wear red caps like Violetta. These caps originated in Phrygia in what is now Turkish Anatolia. This sun-worshiping people wore these caps as part of their religious ritual. In ancient Rome, freed slaves wore these caps to indicate their emancipated status. Later these caps became symbols of the French Revolution, representing liberty. In Ivrea, this cap is known as berretto frigio. If you’re wearing one, it means you aren’t throwing oranges, so in theory, no one will throw oranges at you.

The people of Ivrea have incorporated many elements of their history into the Carnival. Huge cauldrons of beans are set up at various points throughout the city, for example, and generous portions are ladled to anyone who wants a taste. This part of the festival represents feeding of the poor during the Middle Ages. And people representing Napoleon’s soldiers parade in the characteristic uniforms of the period. The most recent addition is text messaging. All the carts have numbers, as do the battles. You can text your vote on the best one.

All the partying comes to an end on Tuesday night with a giant bonfire. Then people hug and kiss each other saying, "arvedse a giòbia a'n bòt" (local dialect for good-bye till Thursday at one). That means see you at the beginning of the Carnival next year.