And The Street Was Abuzz With Life

People tend to think the best experiences are stumbled upon, but a little bit of local knowledge is always an advantage.
Sienna wasn't a party city, in daylight it was bright and quaint, in darkness it was calm, so when a fellow traveller suggested we go to a concert and a party that evening as he read the 'what's on' section of the local paper, I was dubious.
The inland location meant that the city stayed warm at night, so we went on foot, starkly clad. The concert was not a rave, but a classical pianist who played outside the Duomo. It was a ticketed show and we had no tickets, nor any money. We sat around the back with dozens of other stingy folk unable to see the performance but able to hear the enchanting sounds. The air was warm, the ground was warm and the people around me at peace. I'd never been one for classical music but fell in love with it there. Perhaps there is some ethical argument to be made for enjoying this art we did not pay to see, however in my opinion all art should be free, and as a traveller wanting to learn and experience new art forms there is no shame in hovering on the outskirts of a public performance as a means of educating yourself. Or purely for the hedonistic joy of it all. You'll find that lots of public art and performance is free, read the papers, ask at the information office what cultural events are on and you are bound to find some delightful cultural moment to take pleasure in.
Next we went to the party we had heard about. It was the most quintessential, almost stereotypical Italian street party one could imagine. Long tables lines with red and white checkered table cloths ran up the length of the stone paved street. They had eaten dinner by the time we got there. Now the Italian locals were drinking the remaining wine and we joined them. We took plastic glasses of punch made with red wine and fresh local peaches. A band played a mix of American pop music and songs in Italian and everyone old and young danced, drunk not on wine but on the warm summer evening and the beauty of the movements of bodies around them. Men sold roses and women sold cakes. Nonas hung out of windows in buildings encircling the street surveying the merriment.
Go to any smaller sized town in Italy in the summer and I assure you, if you know who to ask, you find the same sort of thing scattered all over. Because Italians know how to enjoy their wine and music and friends and the blessed ancient cities which contains them.