The color of Siena

Legend dictates that Rome was founded by Romulus and Remus, mythological brothers from Mars, the God of War, and High Priestess Rhea Silvia. They were raised in the woods and nursed by a she wolf. Romulus grew up to found Rome and eventually killed off his brother Remus. Remus before being "offed," had a son named Senius. Senius, knowing his life was in peril, went north into Tuscany and founded the gorgeous city of Siena.

Red clay was mined here, an earthy color, known by all knowledgeable Crayola Crayon fans as "burnt Siena," and was used for pigment paint for buildings and paintings in Renaissance times. And here our story begins, in the dazzling siena color Piazza del Campo under the 2nd tallest tower in Italy.
Once upon a time, in the golden age of Siena, the people in this city prospered. They were so blessed, they built a giant statue of Venus to thank her for their comfortable lives. Not long after, the bubonic plague hit and nearly decimated the city. A Catholic priest warned them, they were being punished for their worship of Pagan gods. So the people pulled down the statue, buried it outside the walls of their rival city Florence and built city hall and a tiny chapel with its 330 ft. tower (that leans a bit to the right)

Under the shadow of that very red and tall tower, five weary travelers entered the square, looking for traces of a yearly horse race called the Palio. Gone were the medieval knights, flag throwers and throngs-- as this race was over and done with, literally gone in 90 seconds. But alas, they learned it would return every 16 August. They walked the slippery cobble stoned streets, usually covered with red dirt for the race, and thanked their lucky stars that they weren't crammed into this square with 15,000 spectators in 100 degree humid heat.

A lovely maiden happened upon the scene then and told them of a delicacy, a ricciarelli, that they could eat, that would refresh their very souls.

So they continued around the square, past the sharp corners where rider and beast were known to fall in the fierce horse race by 17 riders.

It was there, up against the side of the Palazzo Pubblico, a store selling the very food meant to revive even the weariest of travelers.

The fearless leader of the weary travelers went in the establishment, and with his charms, linguist ability and pointer finger came out with the sweet and soft biscotti and pronounced it "heavenly." His fellow travelers fell in and made light work of the cookie and felt themselves magically restored.

They considered their options here. Return home or venture on to the duomo, despite an earlier scare in the church of St. Catherine where her dehydrated head and thumb were on display-- so honored, because she convinced the Pope to return from France to Rome.

The travelers, fortified with riccarelli, decided to forge ahead and girded up their wallets from pickpockets and made haste to the Gothic cathedral on the far side of town. They encountered the first wall, left unfinished as the workforce perished from the Black Death.

And then rounded the corner to see the completed spectacular Gothic structure from long ago, 1136.

The black & white stones, growing closer and closer together, forced their very eyes heavenward.

And they wondered if they could possibly play Quasimodo and climb the 6 story bell tower.

But after finding out it was closed, a schism arose in the ranks. Part of the group wanted to sit outside and marvel at the intricate embellishments,

and focus on the ornate facade, (with the totally out of place crane),

while the other part of the band of travelers was more interested in what lay ahead, behind the Romanesque arches and stained glass windows. So part of the group ventured on, while the mere part remained and sat beneath the flagpoles bearing a Florentine flag. What? Yes, that's right, this was the site where the Sienese played the original "capture the flag" and seized their rival Florence' Flag in battle and enjoyed 80 years of freedom before being starved in an 18 month siege and being repressed under their Florentine task masters.

The eager travelers entered the cathedral and stood with blinking eyes....not because of the dimly lit sanctuary, but because before them was the magnificence of Michelangelo, his apostle Paul he sculpted. And beside that was the bronze sculpture of John the Baptist by the aged Donatello, his last work.

And as if those two creations weren't enough, to the side of the dome, past the altar,

there, in its own little chapel, was Bernini's magnificent baroque Mary Magdalene and nearby, St. Jerome. The travelers learned Jerome as a young man had a vision and spent the rest of his life devoting himself to the things of God. He went to Bethlehem and for 34 years worked on translating the original Hebrew texts of the Bible. He lovingly bears his cross, his service to God.

The fearless leader of the weary travelers had his own vision about then... that he was no longer needed to translate plaques from Italian into English, and if they didn't make haste and find some beverage, that his head would be as shrunken and dehydrated the preserved head of St. Catherine's they had seen earlier.

Tune in next time to find out if the weary band regrouped, found water and something other than meat biscuits made from horse jerky to help them continue their journey...