On Thursday morning Maurice and I headed to la Bruna to do some errands.  As we passed La Bruna’s fortress-church I noticed its door was open so we stopped in for a look.  A half-dozen people were at work dusting, vacuuming, polishing, taking a drill to the hem of Mary’s gown, chatting.  “Buongiorno!” said a smiling young man.  “Buongiorno!” I replied.  I looked like such a tourist with my orchid rain jacket and camera in hand.  Another man waved toward the balcony and said something.  I looked.  He waved again and smiled.  I should go up to the balcony?  Si, si.  I climbed the curving wrought iron staircase, barely wide enough for me and so spare of frame that I felt like I was hanging in midair.  An ancient organ took up most of the small balcony and there was music sitting on the wall so I suppose it is still used (it occurred to me later that I should have asked to play it).  I went back downstairs, looked around and sat in a pew.  The balcony man came over and handed me a card with a picture of Mary and Jesus (the one painted at the front of their church) and a prayer on the back.  Soon Maurice wandered in.  Naturally he wanted to talk to the workers, meaning he wanted me to talk to the workers.  I don’t make small talk in English, much less Italian.  “Pulito,” I said, looking at the Mary statue, tall and shining.  “Per una festa?”  Between all of us and the young guy they brought over who knew about three words of English, we understood they were preparing for the upcoming celebration of their Madonna della Bruna on Monday night, with the service at 9 pm (!) and a short procession through town with the statue at 9:45 pm.  There would be food to buy outside and we were invited.  Sounded like fun.  Maurice put it right in his phone to remind us.  Keep reading