Crappy Oranges, but a wildly, fun Sunday ...

It's called the Battle of the Oranges. I call it a bunch of crappy oranges.

For a few hours on Sunday afternoon, Giusi and I saw festive parades, beautiful horses, more beautiful women dressed up in many colorful outfits, men in regal uniforms, never-ending bags of confetti, silly string, yellow flowers and there was candy to eat and vin brule to drink.

What I will remember most, however, is the traditional battle of the oranges in the town of Ivrea, which, when mixed with numerous horses who are wondering what they did to encourage people to make them go around in circles and take the kind of abuse they did -- along with the brave men and women who dressed up in loads of padding and masks made of extreme tough materials -- that we soon found our shoes covered, I mean COVERED, in horse crap and squashed remains of oranges by the truckloads.

This festive time was all part of the Carnivale, part of the annual tradition held at the end of February. It's actually the first of many of these things that lead up to lent and you can liken it to Mardi Gras. If you watched the Closing Ceremony later Sunday, that was the non-battle of the oranges part, only the fun, whimsical part.

What I was a part of --- and I knew this going in -- is that I now know what Oakland/L.A. Raiders football fans do in the offseason. Or at least this is where they come to recruit new, crazy and bizarrely dressed fans. Actually, I was wondering where Randy Moss was, probably hiding out along with the scores of other patrons who stood behind netting all throughout the town to minimize the damage. But they all still had to walk through the crappy orange goo at some point.

Let me add to this delightful tale --- and please, I am not angry or upset by what this event entailed, it was very much fun for me to see, the photos will help you understand it better too --- by saying I was seeing red all day. Actually, you must see red to enjoy this event. Wearing red is an absolute requirement because it is the color that, if you don't have SOME red on your assortment of clothes well, you should be in the trenches with the other crazed patrons who come here without it specifically to throw oranges and, better yet, have them thrown right back at you. Even when these wagons filled with the brave souls I mentioned earlier came through --- and they did throughout the afternoon --- weren't in sight, there would be the occasional person who'd get a bit ansy and want some pre-fight practice. They'd sail a few into the overflowing crowd and those people would actually get upset! Uh, duh, you MIGHT get hit anyway when there is this much er, organized chaos, on hand.

Giusi and I were accompanied at this festival by Laura, the 25-year-old daughter of Giusi's friends Carmen and Johnny. We all had a fantastic lunch prior to the Battle of the Oranges trip courtesy of Carmen and Johnny, with salami, a hotter salami, an egg filled with tuna and covered in a cream-type sauce, a quiche with cheese, egg, bits of ham and a great, light flaky crust, a type of ravioli stuffed with spinach and meat and covered in a ragù sauce (meaty tomato sauce, but not the American stuff!) and finally some tender pork and spinach. There was also bread (it's the best part of any meal) and, of course, some red and white wine and natural (actually tap) water.

Carmen, by the way, was dressed for her part in the parade -- non orange-throwing version --- and I took her picture. She also took us to the smaller, also non-orange throwing version, parade that three quarters within the same town of Borgo Franco come together for in the morning hours. The three separate little areas, called Olmetto, Borgo and Cascine, then enjoy a full day of dancing (people dressed as cooks dance with generals and those in a cow outfit shuffle their feet with the soldiers), eating (salami, bread, cheese, cookies, liquor-filled edibles) and drinking (fresh wines, juice drinks and even Coca-Cola for the kids) and they also give tours of their small wine cellars (Marie, I remember visiting the one your Dad had in Laguna Beach, but it sure wasn't as cool --- and I do mean brrrr, cool --- as the ones I saw here).

One other thing to note about Carmen, Johnny and Laura is that Johnny's love of tennis extends to names within the family. Laura's middle name is Chris, as a homage to tennis star Chris Evert and one of Carmen's dogs is named Venus for, you guessed it, Venus Williams. They also have a huge, beautiful dog named Tommy, but perhaps it isn't a tennis name there, Tommy Haas is the only tennis person I can think of right now.

Anyway, that was my day of celebration, complete with confetti, a swig of beer and wine along the parade trails from kind folks, and of course, too many crappy oranges to know I might never want to drink another glass of orange juice again. Throwing a few at someone, though? Maybe. Sounds like I know what to arm myself with if I happen to attend a Raiders game next season or better still, I have my Halloween costume idea for 2006.

Ciao!