Arte Strada - a (renowned?) Italian festival

Arte Strada is a phenomenon in Colmurano. It is, apparently, nationally known, and according to some, is one of the largest festivals in Italy, attracting anywhere from 10-40,000 in 2006 year depending on who you talk to and how close to the date of this year’s event you speak to them. I’m skeptical, but then I’m just a natural-born skeptic.

In 2007 it ran four nights from Thursday July 12^th to Sunday July 15^th, and included 6 “formal” performance venues accommodating 16 performance acts ranging from music to dance, and magic to juggling, and a variety of informal spots where fire-throwers, single-wheel bicycle funny-men, and the like did their things.. I went every night, and it was, in a word (or three), a total blast.

Music ranged from California rock to Italian Celtic, and ethno-Germania to Italian pipes. Top of the list for me, though, was an African drum band, who lost themselves in their rhythms, simultaneously intoxicating countless members of the audience who gave themselves away with inane grins of ecstasy. Up there too was another African outfit, an acrobatic dance troupe from Kenya, whose energy and smiles lit up the central stage and filled the ancient piazza every time they performed.

Stalls selling the usual art-and-craft-type stuff were there – most of it rather good quality and interesting, actually – along with a leather-vested, dead-head-looking palm reader and a portly middle-aged Tarot card reader. And, of course, food, a fixture in any Italian gathering of more than 3 people. None of the beverages or edibles was easily accessible, but it didn’t stop the lines, which, for any Italian gathering of more than 1 person, is a social event in itself.

“Buzzing” is a word that comes readily to mind, perhaps more aptly than I’ve ever used it before.

Scattered around the place was a diverse set of oversized, painted wooden statues of curious design and undertone. I’m not sure if the theme was Egyptian, ancient European, or other-worldly, but these erect, horned, and exotic-growth-adorned creations were an intriguing addition to a top class event.

I had the privilege to be part of the preparation – unwittingly but not unwillingly – when I went to get an ice cream at Amanda’s shop the night before it started. Roberta, Colmurano’s maintenance man and father of Julius’ classmate Eduardo, saw me and roped me into helping move a few of these statues. It gave me an insight that made the smoothness of Arte Strada’s operations even more impressive. Here’s why.

We had to move one of these large wooden fellows, fairly heavy but not dauntingly so, and yet stilll heavy enough to use a forklift on one side and a cadre of men (most of them with cigarettes dangling from their lips) on the other (the statue was “lying down”, as it were). We moved it to the appointed (or anointed?) spot.

Or at least near to the appointed spot, because there was a car where it was meant to go. A car, that is, standing right under the “All vehicles forbidden from yesterday until tomorrow” sign, and a car that was clearly visible in its current spot before we started moving Basin Man (my name for the statue).

So now the car owner was sought … and found. He came to move his car. He got in, started it up, started to reverse … and stopped – Basin Man was in the way. This shouldn’t have been a surprise to those that knew where the statue was headed, and yet no-one seemed in the slightest bit thoughtful about the order we’d chosen to do things in.

So we moved Basin Man a few feet, this time with more difficulty since the forklift had disappeared somewhere else along with some of the muscles that helped him over in the first place. Car reverses a little more … and stops. Basin Man’s still in the way.

Finally we moved him far enough out of the way so the car could reverse out of the space. But instead of continuing to reverse all the way out of the piazza to one of the clearly visible parking spaces about 50 feet away, he goes forward, heading straight into the piazza with its “busy” Italian congestion making the maneuvering of a car well nigh impossible. It didn’t stop him from trying, and, I must say with some admiration, succeeding.

While the car driver was contributing to the central chaos, we were putting up Basin Man – we formed a sort of human lever and pulled him up onto his rostrum to the full extent of his height, some 12 feet or so. We examined him. Unfortunately, our efforts to allow the car to get out had moved him off his stop by about 10 feet.

So we had to move him. This was a far more difficult prospect when he was standing up than when he was lying down. It turns out that the leader of the pack knew that we were lifting him on the wrong spot, but waited until he was up to point out this fact. No surprise or remonstration from anyone though when we found out, and then struggled to move him without toppling him or falling over each other.

Finally, there he was, in place and ready. It had taken a good 30 minutes. It should have taken 5.

I must confess I watched this unfolding with a sort of dumb incredulity at times, at others with silent bemusement, but never (it should be emphasized) without a smile. I was educated, enlightened, and enchanted. In Italy, it’s all about the process, the opportunity for interaction, and the propensity for animation.

Therewith endeth today's Italian lesson.