On Sunday afternoon, Ed's mom and I went to a Trindentine Mass at Holy Trinity church - the first I'd ever been to - and it turned out to be really interesting, but also pretty passive from my place in the congregation. I didn't know any of the prayers; the congregation said practically nothing, or they whispered responses; I could barely hear the priest, whose back was turned to us, and couldn't follow along in the Latin/English missal I was given because of it. I also screwed up during communion by putting out my hands, which apparently was not done back in the day. (I'm sure the priest is used to such infractions at this point. One learns new things when one was born more than a decade after Vatican II.) The Mass was sparsely attended, and many of the women and girls wore chapel veils.
But it was a really beautiful church, and it included a gift shop where I was able to pick up a small wall crucifix and, finally, a missal (I haven't even been able to find one online; I cancelled an order after waiting for five months; the delivery date was pushed back one month, then two; finally, the customer service representative couldn't even guess when it would be delivered).