Under the Big Top - Italian Style

An annual trip to the circus was a childhood luxury my parents afforded us. We did, after all, live in the shadows of the Ringling Museum in Sarasota, Florida, a legacy of one of the famous Ringling Brothers of the 19th and 20th century circus world.

Driving to the circus always happened in the winter nights, when the sun set early, and it often took us about 45 minutes to travel to the large arena where the circus was held, a drive that to a child seemed to take forever. And was full of anticipation. The circus was a mix of emotions for me, amazement at the brilliant costumes and beautiful women, wonder at the mind-boggling stunts, and slight fear of the large crowds, the chance to lose my parents, and the thought that something might go wrong, like a trapeze artist falling to his death.  Yeah, I was a worry-wort kind of kid.

When the brightly colored posters featuring funny clowns and sparkley-clad ladies riding elephants hit the streets, I always smiled with expectation. Going to the circus each year fell into the annual category of fun events like the county fair, the Memorial weekend fishing tournament, and the Desoto Parade. 

Circus posters typically feature a tent, a "big top" as they are called, but I never experienced one like that in my childhood; instead, it was a large professional arena transformed with 3 rings and tangles of hanging lights, ropes and cages all part of the show.

Unlike my childhood, my children's circus experience has only been in Italy, and under a true "big top" tent, constructed exclusively for the month or so that the circus is in town. The posters pop-up around town, just like I remember. And my children notice them like a flash of lightening, immediately launching into "Oh mom! When are we going?!?!" questions.

  

It is, in fact, an annual field trip for their Italian school. They both experienced it last year, but only Buddy this time, and I was able to join him. (Peanut now attends the American Department of Defense School.)

The experience was quite fun, and generally speaking, much like my childhood circus days, just on a smaller scale. (Although there were quite a bit of string-bikini style outfits that caused me to do a double take. Oh yeah, it's Italy!)

I couldn't start enjoying the circus, however, until I stopped worrying! (True to my childhood nature.)

The tent was small, only 2 rings, and cramped. I am very distrustful of foreign fairs, rides and construction, visions of the tent collapsing ran through my head. An unusual gas-fume smell hit me too as we entered the arena, I think from the diesel engines used to run the lights. I immediately imagined us all getting fumed to death. Once settled in a somewhat sturdy seat, my mind had settled on the quickest escape-route, and a cappuccino was in my hand, I was just fine.  And it was a dang good cappuccino! (You can always count on good coffee anywhere, even at the "Home Depot" like store here! God-forbid an Italian shop for paint and screws without having the chance for a shot of espresso.)

There were goofy clowns shooting it up with wooden guns in hand, how propos  for mafia-ridden Napoli! We also saw elephant tricks, and seals and penguins on ice, various amazing human feats, and a woman who could spin multiple hula-hoops on every part of her body, at once, while suspended in the air from a rope! The horses were also most impressive.

 

There was an ice skating rink in the first ring, not something found in my circus memories, and the various performances on ice managed to even sneak in a Michael Jackson "Thriller" tribute. All the other "props" were there too, including light-up toys, fairy floss (cotton candy) and popcorn, though the Italian lady had no change! CLASSIC in Italy. (They absolutely hate giving change.) We had to wait for the next person to buy something in hopes that she'd get the proper change for you. 

  

One thing is certain about living in Italy, it is truly fascinating! The children's field trips are unusual, and memory-making. More on that later as I share details from Peanut's school-trip this week: an olive farm with trees hundreds of years old, and two small-town olive-oil factories.