Everyone Tolerates a Parade

Two years ago, when we were staying in the same apartment we're in this year, we discovered we were on a parade route. Every July 16, it starts from a church in the nearby San Pellegrino medieval area, and winds around the city streets. Last year, Henry got stuck coming home from class and couldn't get down our street. This year, Owen's class watched it from school.

Everyone comes out on the balcony and watches. People drag out their chairs and wait for it, and then stare, seemingly critically, smile-less, as the procession goes by. We smile, of course.

Kelly, Fred & Henry on the balcony. We do smile.
Mrs. Kravitz smiles, too, actually. A lot. 
Mrs. Kravitz's cat is a little alarmed when the marching band can be heard in the distance.
The locals.

My girls.

Luigi, get your ass out here. It's starting.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

The very first to come 'round the bend was this guy. A lone accordion player. Barely audible, to boot. 
She's a legit parader. 

And so it begins.

There's not a ton to say about this parade. Fred said it's a somber look they have on their faces (the participants) but I interpreted it as boredom or indifference. I hope he's right. It is a religious affair, after all.

Some of them carry these big things, some don't. One guy carries a sound system, which doesn't ever work very well.

More too good not to share.

Must be the local politicians. Love the hand gestures.
Would love to know what's up.

Men in Capes.

And at the very end, the townspeople come out and follow!

At the very end, the woman on the next balcony over (aka Mrs. Kravitz) looked at us, shrugged, and said, "It is the same every time."