Taking children to Ivrea in February might seem like madness, but it is an experience that leaves a profound mark. It is a organized chaos made of history, passion, and thousands of citrus fruits flying through the freezing Piedmont air. Seeing my children, Leonardo and Beatrice, wearing their red Phrygian caps reminded me how powerful tradition is when lived with awareness. This isn’t just a simple battle; it’s the reenactment of a people rebelling against a tyrant. It is a lesson in freedom.
The smell in the city is unique and unforgettable: a pungent mix of crushed orange peels, fresh hay, and wood smoke. The sound of heavy carts advancing on the cobblestones, accompanied by rhythmic whistles and shouts of defiance, creates an electric tension that fascinates children. It is a wild dance, yet regulated by a chivalrous code of honor dating back to the Middle Ages. Walking on the “carpet” of orange pulp requires balance and a pair of sturdy boots you aren’t afraid to ruin. You will feel the ground vibrate.
The absolute first rule for every family is the Phrygian Cap. This red hat with a long point is not a simple accessory, but the symbol of liberty and the universal signal of peace. Those wearing it declare themselves as mere spectators and cannot be targeted by oranges during the combat in the squares. Leonardo wore his with a moving solemnity, feeling protected and an integral part of this ancient Eporedian community. Buy it as soon as you arrive at the city gates. It is your pass to safety.
To enjoy the battle with children without risks, you must position yourselves behind the metal safety nets. These barriers are set up in the main squares like Piazza di Città or Piazza Ottinetti and allow you to observe the close-range clash in total safety. From here, Beatrice was able to admire the parabolic flight of oranges launched from the carts toward the foot soldiers, without fearing accidental hits. It’s a privileged vantage point that allows you to capture incredible photos of the crowd’s frantic movement. Leave the stroller at home.
The legend of Violetta and the people’s courage#
The Ivrea Carnival is not just about adrenaline, but a historical narrative rooted in rebellion against a tyrant. The air in the squares vibrates with the sound of pipes while the smell of fried food from the stalls mixes with the Alpine frost. Legend has it that in the Middle Ages, young Violetta, a miller’s daughter, opposed the Ius Primae Noctis demanded by the Marquis of Monferrato. With an act of extreme courage, Violetta beheaded the tyrant, sparking the popular revolt that led to the destruction of the castle. It is a tale of justice.
The actual battle represents the clash between the tyrant’s armies (the orange throwers on the carts) and the rebel people (the throwers on foot). There are nine teams on foot, each with its own uniform and historical square of belonging, fighting with incredible vigor. What will amaze you is seeing the Junior Orange Throwers: children and teenagers who actively participate in the throwing in dedicated zones where the carts slow their pace. Seeing the physical effort and loyalty between the teams is a lesson in sportsmanship and territorial belonging without equal. It is a necessary rite.
During the passing of the historical parade, the atmosphere calms down and the music of pipes and drums fills the streets. This is the moment when the Mugnaia (the Miller’s Daughter) throws flowers and sweets to the crowd from the decorated carts, creating moments of pure joy for the little ones. Leonardo was spellbound by the period costumes and the majestic horses parading with a grace that contrasts with the fury of the just-concluded battle. In these moments, the city truly seems to step back in time, forgetting the present. It is pure magic.
Beyond the battle: fagiolate, Abbà, and culinary traditions#
Another fundamental aspect that children love is the distribution of the “fagiolata grassa.” In various points across the city, enormous copper cauldrons boil for hours, preparing quintals of Saluggia beans and “preive” according to the traditional medieval recipe. It is a moment of democratic sharing: anyone can show up with their own container or eat on the spot, celebrating social equality. Beatrice tasted a spoonful of this hot dish, appreciating the rustic flavor that warms the stomach after hours spent outdoors. It is the taste of the land.
During the historical parade, the protagonists are often the little ones: the Piccoli Abbà. These are ten children, two for each parish of Ivrea, dressed in sumptuous Renaissance robes who parade symbolically bringing peace. Seeing them pass on horseback or carried on shoulders, with their seriousness mixed with emotion, is one of the most sweet and authentic moments of the festival. Explain to your children that those other children are the guardians of tradition. They will feel immediately involved.
For those seeking a more playful approach, there is the Carnevale Kids initiative, a true stamp mission. Following a dedicated map, children can explore Ivrea in search of the character totems to complete their carnival passport. It is an excellent way to distract them from the tension of the battle and let them discover the most beautiful corners of the old city through play. At the end of the route, a small prize awaits them at the Orange Village. They will be little experts.
On Shrove Tuesday, a less bloodthirsty but equally suggestive rite takes place: the burning of the Scarli. These are large poles covered in dry heather that are set on fire in different squares of the city as a propitiatory rite for the new year. If the fire rises straight and fast, tradition says it will be a good and lucky year for Ivrea. Seeing the flames dancing in the darkness of the evening is a moment of great collective emotion that enchants adults and children alike. It is the final farewell.
What I really can’t stand: I hate people who bring dogs into the middle of the battle confusion. It is dangerous for the animals, who get scared and risk being injured, and it creates a hindrance in an already dense crowd. If you love your four-legged friend, leave them at home in the warmth: Ivrea at carnival time is no place for them. And please, don’t use umbrellas to shelter from oranges; the nets are there for a reason.
If after the adrenaline of Ivrea you are looking for a refuge of peace in Piedmont, I recommend my guide on the whispers of Lake Orta. Or, stay in Northern Italy to challenge the peaks with Marco’s guide to the Stelvio Pass.
Happy carnival to all the brave families!