<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><title>Ivrea on vo.rs</title><link>https://vo.rs/tags/ivrea/</link><description>Recent content in Ivrea on vo.rs</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en</language><copyright>This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.</copyright><lastBuildDate>Tue, 13 Feb 2024 09:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://vo.rs/tags/ivrea/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>The Battle of the Oranges: Ivrea and the Carnival That Throws 500 Tonnes of Fruit</title><link>https://vo.rs/encore/battle-of-the-oranges-ivrea/</link><pubDate>Tue, 13 Feb 2024 09:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>https://vo.rs/encore/battle-of-the-oranges-ivrea/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Every February a small town in Piedmont, at the mouth of the Aosta valley, spends three days pelting itself with citrus until the cobbles run with pulp and the whole place smells like a marmalade factory that has caught fire. This is Ivrea, an hour north of Turin, and the event is the Battaglia delle Arance — the Battle of the Oranges, the centrepiece of the Storico Carnevale di Ivrea. It is one of the oldest and by some distance the most violent-looking carnivals in Europe, and I have never been. I want to say that plainly, because the honest version of this piece is a correspondent&amp;rsquo;s read from the record, not a war story I have earned. What follows is the town&amp;rsquo;s own history, the mechanics of the fight, and why a place would agree, year after year, to bruise itself for a legend.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>