Viva La Carnivale!

The word of the post is: litro/litre, meaning liter, as in “The more litre of wine I drink the better my Italian becomes…or is that the wine talking?

AVIANO

Randy and I moved to Italy just in time for Carnevale. During the first sleep deprived weeks I heard people mention Venice at its Carnival, but I didn’t really get it until Carnevale weekend.  We saw signs all over the place and were lucky to happen upon not one, but two, major Carnevale celebrations.

 

Each year many communities prepare for lent with a festival. We know this as Mardi Gras, but in Italy it is also Carnevale season. The actual word carnival is a derivative of a Latin word that means “Farewell, meat.” During the weeks preceding Lent Italians would use up their meat, butter, and eggs while partying before the season’s fasting began. 

This was the Norm

  Venice has a special tradition for Carnevale which began in 1162 in celebration of the Republic’s victory over Ulrico of Aquileia. Since then, Venice Carnevale centers in Piazza San Marco where the first festivity hosted bull and pig slaughtering for its people. Venice Carnevale is special because of its unique use of masks and costumes which began around 1268. Masks were worn as a social protest to the delineation in social statuses. The government restricted such identity coverage to only the Carnivale season.

We're not Partying...We're Protesting the Established Social Order

  Many of the cities in Northeast Italy celebrate their own Carnivale with a local festival and parade. We knew that our own Aviano had a little party, but we didn’t really think about it. We were just lucky enough to stumble upon it when we were walking the dogs. We heard some jamming music and saw a disproportionate number of Zorros, Princesses, and Spidermen (I have no idea why these three costumes seem to be the way to go here) and realized that today was Carnivale!

When in Rome, er...Aviano

Well, we cancelled our gym plans-we had good intentions-called up our good friends Kirby, Emily, and Lily and got our Carnivale on. We wandered into the city center and had hot wine and crispy, cinnamon things for less than 5 euro for all of us! (Except Lily, she’s 9 months) We saw dance numbers and tons of great costumes.

Sheep

Cross Dressers

 

They love them some Confetti

 The main event was by far the parade. We thought we had missed it because it was about two hours into the festival and we hadn’t seen one so far. We were about to pack it up and go find some caffes when we saw a parade of grand proportions coming from the distance. This wasn’t like a local school parade where the cheerleaders and band prance down the street. This parade had floats that were two stories high, mechanically operated, and surrounded by choreographed and costumed dancers. The dancers were both male and female and ranged from 7 years old to 97. Most had grim faces, but the most animated, and my favorite, was an older gentleman who had real star potential.

He wasn’t even doing the same dance as his compadres but it was his dedication to the task that made him sparkle. He never wavered in his physical celebration.  Mr. Dance Man was the embodiment of this time honored tradition with his glee and purposeful, if not coordinated, jaunty moves.

Confetti attack, They seem like cute kids but they'll get you...Right in the Face

VENICE

If this wasn’t enough, Randy and I and several friends traversed to Sacile the following day where we took the train to Venice. There we saw this beautiful ancient city juxtaposed with the ridiculousness of adults carrying on in full up costumes. In route to Piazza San Marco, where the festivity is centered, we stopped for hot wine. We also paused for lunch at a place that I presumed had a pirate theme. Our group came to that conclusion, because the “litre” of wine was poured from the scowling mouths of black beard and some lesser known grey bearded fellow. 

Two words: Fried Risotto

Though the city was gorged with dedicated celebrators, Randy and I were able to take in some of the beautiful architecture. We traveled through the very narrow corridors and walked along the waterways. We will definitely return and get the scoop on the history and culture when it’s less bustling. Next year we plan to be costumed. Who knows maybe we’ll go as spidermen.

Venice, Right off the Train

If you look closely you'll see glass shards-Old Fashioned Barb Wire

Piazza San Marco

On our way home on the train, my friend Perta and I met the favor of a drunken gentleman. He seemed nice enough, but he began to take pictures of us a few inches from our faces. I felt quite empowered because I had just learned some helpful new Italian phrases, specific to this very occasion. I clearly, if not completely eloquently, stated that he should stop it, and if not, I would call the police. Now maybe these statements weren’t actually the best two, but they were all I had at all relevant in my repertoire. He ignored me and continued to violate personal space boundaries. Right when I was about to get really agitated, he managed to say in broken English that he was Tunisian and did not speak any Italian (And clearly very little English). Well, at least I tried. Even though my Italian landed on somewhat “deaf’ ears, our husbands were able to communicate via body language that he should scram. He left because apparently he DID speak angry husbands. Viva la Carnivale!

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