Thinking along the lines of the Big Bang, I knew I wanted to start La Vespa Vita off with more than just a fizzle. But I honestly never expected to find a bang as big as this: Taggia’s Festa di San Benedetto, or as I like to call it, Taggia’s Homemade Handheld Fireworks Festival. Yes, I have finally found the Italian town that pushes pyrotechnic safety considerations to their farthest limits.
First, a little history. Once upon a time, the Saracens decided to burn down villages along the coast of Liguria. Taggia, a small but clever pup of a town, wasn’t strong enough to fight, but it was smart enough to play dead. The citizens lit bonfires in every piazza before the Saracens arrived and, from an invaders’ distance, made it look like they were already well on their way to burning to the ground. The ruse worked, the town was saved, and since they had such a good time doing it, they established the ritual as a yearly event, each February pulling out all the stops to come as close as possible to burning their town down once and for all.
We could already hear the explosions as we drove up around 10 pm. Smoke billowed over rooftops in rosy hues throughout the historic center (which we drove past entirely in our search for a parking spot). With the smell of sparklers in the air, we followed the crowds into the medieval alleyways, and for the next hour and a half, Marco and I enjoyed a state of mildly concerned amazement.
How do those foot long, 4” wide cylinders of explosives not shoot out of their hands when they light them held over their heads like that? How are there no barriers around each of the blazing bonfires some of which are set up in the middle of alleyways, necessitating a momentary scalding as one skirts by? How many bottles of wine can one town drink in public straight from the bottle, teenage and wrinkled fists alike wrapped around the bottlenecks? How did they convince all the cops to take the night off? And, most importantly, how had we never heard of this event before??
Now would probably be a good time to mention the witch who told us about Taggia’s pyro party. She runs a specialty foods boutique in Molini di Triora (or Triora’s Mills), a town in the valley below Triora. Ringing a bell? Triora, aka Il Paese delle Streghe (the Village of Witches) and my recent Halloween destination, was that infamously last town to hold witch trials in Italy back in the 1580’s. What was once a curse is now a source of local pride. The shopkeeper is not the only local to call herself a witch. She sold us a bottle of Filtro delle Streghe (Witches’ Potion), a 100 proof liquor made specially for her shop, then made us swear that we would go to Taggia that night no matter what… Bippity Boppity BANG!
And I mean BANG. At first, we couldn’t understand why some of the handheld explosives shot off plumes as tall as the rooftops for as long as a minute while others simply exploded in their holder’s hands 10 seconds after being lit. Then we overheard the elderly men’s comments. “Artigianale,” they nodded to each other between knowing smiles. Aka artisan. Aka homemade. Some of the fireworks would simply explode because, having been made at home, they were over packed with explosives. Did I hear someone say “Danger, Will Robinson?”
Besides the ‘overhead’ variety of handheld firework employed at the festival, I should also note the ‘at-your-feet’ variety. These foot-long, inch-wide fireworks, often seen in the hands of scampering young children, are used by the citizens to express affection toward loved ones or to tell strangers that they are well-met. Simply, hold, light, and aim at the feet of everyone around you, chasing after those who flee if necessary.
Later that night on our way back to our bed and breakfast, Marco and I stopped by a real-estate agency’s window. Call me crazy, but I could get used to this valley’s enchantments.
