The Patron Saint of Lecce, Gay Gallipoli and Therapeutic Dancing
Santa Croce Church
We arrived in Lecce, often described as the Florence of the South, at aperitif time. Very strangely for an Italian town, most of the bars were shut. As we neared the centre of the town, we saw a throng of people packing the narrow medieval streets. A procession starts coming towards us. My first time for many years in Southern Italy it’s very easy to note the different look of the local population compared to the North. Smaller, swarthier. Unfortunately you can publish anything on the Web, and another blog publicises the ludicrous claim that Southern Italians have lower I.Q levels than Northerners…
Many in the procession appear solemn. We wonder if this is some large civic funeral, or some other occasion for mourning. Maybe the local football team lost the national championships or it’s a late mourning for Italy’s world cup performance. Bringing up the rear, what appears to
be an empty suit of armour is being carried along.
Sant'Oronzo
At last we find an open bar, empty apart from three people one of whom is a nun. She happily tells us about the ceremony, which is all part of the three day Sant’Oronzo festival. The procession is comprised of groups from towns all over the South of Italy. Sant’Oronzo is the patron saint of Lecce and attributed with ridding the town of plague in the 17th Century.
Oh, and Lecce is beautiful, with stunning baroque architecture, wonderful churches and a cathedral. Unfortunately we have a bad food experience here, proving that it is possible, though very difficult, to eat badly in Italy. Apart from quality the restaurant took 2.5 hours to serve us, by which time our friends’ kids were fast asleep. We can’t pay for their meals now we said, and probably should not have paid for ours, but were so hungry we had eaten ours despite the poor quality. Holidays after all are for lowering blood pressure, food a vital part of them,and bad food already harder to digest than good food.
I had tried and failed, due to leaving the lights on in the car and flattening the battery, to go to a Sagra in the North of Italy. A bit like asparagus festivals in Germany, these are village or town celebrations that feature wine, pasta, salami, fish or other local produce and normally have some musical accompaniment. In other words eat, drink, and be merry!
We headed off to Cutrofiano by way of an Agriturismo restaurant, eating deliciously, and consuming more than enough calories for a night of dancing. Suddenly I am in Ireland. It’s Christy Moore, Planxty and Moving Hearts too, as the musicians play their fiddles, accordions and Bhodrans!
Tambourine Played Like Bhodran
There’s two types of music being played: Taranta and Pizzica. Some sounds like Irish folk with virtuoso fiddles, accordions and guitars driven along by tambourines played like Bhodrans. The faster rhythm sounds like some hybrid between Zydeco and Cumbia. There’s no thumping bassline, the bass is supplied by the tambourines, played with thumb and fingers as the bhodran is played. Many in the audience play tambourines in the same way.
Taranta has Greek origins from the second century BC, and more recently has been used in the therapy of patients with certain forms of depression and hysteria. One can imagine the medical researchers with their balanced control groups investigating the curative powers-Yes Boss, we are off to Puglia to attend a few festivals and test out the amazing powers of taranta! Dance of this nature is a form of hysteria, and guaranteed to lift the spirits.
The Crowd Becoming Hysterical
Most people are dancing and small groups burst into a high speed dance routine that looks like shadow boxing. There’s stalls selling crafts, food and wine, and a cold beer costs a Euro. The festivities continue to 2.30am and frankly there are few finer ways to spend a night, than a hearty and gorgeous meal followed by dancing under the moon.
La Notte della Taranta
One alternative would be to go to Gallipolli and have a late night drink on the seafront. We are talking Gallipoli Italy here not the Turkish version in the Dardenelles. The town is absolutely buzzing in August. La passegiata continues long into the night, and craft shops and souvenir stalls line the medieval streets. Throw in a castle, a cathedral and a high seafront rampart and you have a picturesque seaside town. Less explicable is Gallipoli’s newfound reputation as the cool gay resort to be seen in, but the evidence is there in rash of gay bars. I may have been overly-influenced by Mine Vagante and other sources but I was surprised by the openness of the gay scene among locals and visitors alike. Late one night it was hard to concentrate on our own conversation as a North meets South encounter took place right beside us and the gay scene in North and South Italy was compared and contrasted. But in typical Italian style gay bars neighbour family bars and ice cream parlours and nobody seems in a hurry to go to bed.
