It’s Sunday morning in Alba, Italy – the final day of Alba’s White Truffle Festival. And that can mean only one thing. Yes. It’s Donkey Race day!
The donkeys are probably being groomed right now, after being fed a light breakfast of whatever they feed donkeys around here. Don’t want to feed ‘em too much. A hungry donkey is a fast donkey. That is, if he feels like going fast.
Pre-Race Festivities
The festivities started with a parade through the streets of Central Alba. The districts or neighborhoods of Alba will be competing in various events today. Each district has its own colors, insignias, and medieval regalia. It’s all on display as they march through the streets.
All of your basic medieval personalities were represented. Kings and queens rode in sedan chairs pulled by servants. Fair damsels flirted with the crowd as they passed by. Mischievous knaves meandered about.
A convicted criminal, or maybe a witch, rode in a wooden cart pulled by lowly serfs. Members of a religious sect trudged along, flogging themselves for the bad stuff they must have done.
Drummers drummed. Trumpeters trumpeted. The sound of those drums reverberated through the narrow streets. They were loud enough to rattle your stomach. You couldn’t help but get caught up in the festival atmosphere.
Every so often the procession would stop so flag throwers could do a routine. They twirled their huge flags around in unison, then they’d throw ’em high up in the air, all at the same time. The flags would go up, up, up, then come down fast. The flag throwers caught them and continued their routine.
When the parade ended, people started heading over to where the donkey races were going to be held, just a few blocks away.
Let’s Go to the Races!
The donkey race venue reminded me of a high school football stadium, but smaller. Bleachers enclosed a rectangular dirt field. One side of the bleachers was built up and had covered seating for judges, announcers, and maybe local dignitaries.
As difficult as it was to find that donkey race ticket window, a lot of people must have managed to find it, because the place was filling up fast. All seats were reserved. Race personnel escorted people to their seats. Everything was very organized.
When everyone had settled in, trumpets sounded and an assemblage of characters in medieval regalia entered the arena. They were from one of the neighborhoods. We recognized them from the parade. But now they had a lot of extra props and equipment that hadn’t been in the parade.
You Just Had to be There
They put on a skit that told a story. In case you didn’t know what was going on just by watching, an announcer provided commentary over a shaky PA system. I’m at a loss for how to describe the sound of italian coming over the high school football game-quality PA system at about a million words per minute, echoing all around in the little arena. For that, you just had to be there.
Each neighborhood competed to see who could stage the best 15-minute skit in front of the crowd. They’d enter the arena, put on their skit, and then leave so the next group could come in. The neighborhood that put on the best skit won a prize. – Maybe free tickets to next year’s donkey races. Don’t know.
One group acted out a scene where bad guys attacked and terrorized a village, doing terrible things to innocent villagers. It didn’t look good for the poor people of the village.
The Hero Saves the Day
But wait! Just when things were at their bleakest, a guy dressed in jeans and a powder blue helmet rode into the arena on a matching motor scooter. He circled around the arena to the cheers of the crowd, then parked his scooter.
He walked over to a thing that looked like a big bass drum and stepped inside. A minute or two went by. Then, to the sound of trumpets, he came crashing out the other side of the drum, landing on his backside like he’d been thrown from a horse. He had changed clothes from 20th century attire to middle-age hero garb.
See, the drum was a time machine. He had gone back in time to rescue the village, and that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. He finished off one bad guy after another. The bad guys must have practiced a lot – they excelled at flailing around in agony after getting run through with a sword or conked on the head.
The crowd cheered on the hero. The announcer was talking a mile a minute. It was hilarious. When the village had been saved, the hero went back into the time machine, changed clothes, and came back to the present day.
Having saved the day, he got on his motor scooter and prepared to make a hero’s departure, but he couldn’t get it to start. Clearly, this was not part of the plan, but it was funnier this way. He had to walk his motor scooter out of the arena. He looked embarrassed, but everyone gave the poor guy lots of applause for his valiant effort. After all, he had saved the village, hadn’t he?
To be continued…
