London -- "Fa in the building"

I have been awake since 6:30 a.m. so opened my computer to do a little chatting. 

We're not that awake says Greg as he rolls out of bed. 

Our hotel is farther out than we usually stay. We are off the book map, two metro stops past Notting Hill. However it is a nice hotel, good bed, small room, nice bathroom, though we can't afford the twenty dollar breakfast. Security is tight.  You need your room card to make the elevator go. Twice we have heard the alarm and an announcement "Fa is in the building". Now Greg told me they are saying 'Fire is in the building'. Anyway... who cares ... maybe it is a fire drill. I thought 'Fa' was an intruder.

Our room is inside with a window over the entry. So it is good and dark in here and quiet and that is why Greg sleeps longer. 

Off to Portobello today and then to get tickets at Coliseum for Barber of Seville tonight. The senior prices have been changed. They are half price no, half of one hundred instead of 20 pounds. 

Last night we went to La Boheme. It was so excellent! The conductor was so fabulous, all of 4'7'', Chinese but could she make the orchestra work. Xian Zhang "..conducts a full-on, passionate account of the score, though hampered by..."

The story is moved from 1880's to 1990's in a big city to a druggy, contemporary setting. There is terrific acting and singing.

I had to hand my Kleenex over to Greg at point because he needed it. I used all my Kleenex. I went to the washroom after and my lips were red and puffy, my eyes were puffy. It is showing two more times while we are here. I have to go back. I have seen La Boheme before but this was fabulous, once you got over the druggie setting.

Hope to see Barbar of Seville tonight.

Love,

Wyona

Die Walkure - Questions and Answers

Photo Credit: Andrea Mohin /NY Times Review /Brunnehilde and Wotan

Ceilidh, Dalton, Kelvin and I went armed with snacks to Die Walkure, the second in the four part series of Wagner’s Ring Cycle. Our snacks were M&M Peanuts, Redfoots and Dino-sours, topped up with popcorn from Wyona. Dalton had Strawberry Frutopia, Ceilidh a Coke and Kelvin, the best of all drinks – ice-water. And we ordered hot dogs and chips and cheese dip at one of intermissions. This was a l-o-n-g opera – where else is there a theatre with a production that is five hour and 35 minutes.

The plot is built around Norse mythology, much of which Dalton already has a handle on. We brushed up on facts about the opera as we waited for the show to start. There was a small glitch in the computer that runs “the machine” on which the action revolves, and that was enough time for us to refresh our memories about the characters we were about to see.

I promised a cash reward for any three questions that could stump Kelvin when the show was over. On the way home, Ceilidh and Dalton began their question and answer period with him.

1. What is a valkyrie?
(ANSWER: in Norse mythology, a Valkyrie is a woman who decides which heroes will be slain in battle (chooser of the slain). They bring the bodies back to the Valhalla which is presided over by Odin.)

2. What is the name of the sword that Siegmund needs to defeat Hundig?
(ANSWER: Sigmund names the sword “Nothung” which means needful.)

3. The sword was stuck into what kind of tree
(ANSWER: Ash tree)

4. Who composed the opera?
(ANSWER: Richard Wagner)

5. Who is the maestro for this production of the opera?
(ANSWER: Richard Levine)

6. What is the last name of the twins, Siegmund and Sieglinda
(ANSWER: the Walsung Twins ... with two dots above the “a”)

7. What is the name of Wotan’s wife whom we met in Das Rheinegold?
(ANSWER: Frika – the Guardian of Marriage)

8. What is Wotan’s daughter’s name?
(ANSWER: Brunnehilde)

9. Who is Brunnehilde’s mother?
(ANSWER: Erda: the personification of the earth)

10. Who is the hero in Der Walkure?
(ANSWER: Brunnehilde)

11. Name the demi-god of fire who establishes a ring of fire around Brunnehilde to protect her? (ANSWER: Loge)

12. Who is wolf cub?
(ANSWER: Sigmunde)

All of these answers are easier to remember when there is money involved.

Arta

The Pearl Fishers

Greg, Wyona and I went to Camden today, not for shopping, but for one last meal at the fast food fish and chip spot that overlooks the street where we think we see a slice of life of the real London we love. People walk by with their baby strollers, their hair spiked in spokes circumnavigating their head, their lugging their packages from shopping, and workers carrying their sandwich boards that advertize restaurants or body piercings.

We sat there making tributes to the times we have had in London with everyone at that restaurant, toasting those times with our soft drinks.

Bizet’s Pearl Fishers was on at the Coliseum tonight, so Wyona and I hopped the tube for Charing Cross to get in the line-up for concession tickets. We noticed at the door that one of the leads would not be doing his part tonight. An actor would be playing his part and a singer would be singing from the side of the stage. As well, the prima donna would not be there. But we are saying good-bye to London and didn’t need a perfect performance, but only a near perfect one.

And we did have a perfect second act.

On the way to the performance, Greg looked at our tickets and informed Wyona that the opera started at 6:30 pm and not at 7:30 pm, the timeline we were on. We arrived at the theatre doors just in time for the intermission, so we stood at the bar and watched the costuming of the theatre goers as they came out of the auditorium to enjoy their interval drinks.

“Oh, it looks like you got here for the second act,” said the theatre patrons to the left of my seat who had parked their purses and coats where I was to sit. “Do you know the bad news? The very bad news.”

“Yes, I heard about the substitutions for tonight’s performance,” I replied.

“Very bad news,” he said again.

How bad can the news be?”, I thought.

I looked at the box seats full of people eating their crustless cucumber sandwiches and drinking their wine.

Out of a niche near the top of the ceiling I looked at the 3 golden lions pulling a chariot and that seemed to be leaping through the wall and into the auditorium. The orchestra was warming up and I could hear the drum being tuned and an oboe doing scales going up and then coming down.

Greg and Wyona burst into laughter in the rotunda as he had opened a bottle of sparkling water for her. Sparkling means the liquid bubbles come out of the bottle as though a cork had been popped on champagne on every occasion that he opens one of those bottles for us. They were both wet.

The "bad news" of being at the opera wasn't feeling all that bad to me.

If you pay half price for your tickets, but you only see half of the opera, no loss.

We stopped at Waitrose for some fig boursin, some caprice de dieu, some gouda, some brie and ate in in Parisian style when we got home.

A lovely second to the last day in London.

To be really truthful, a few things have gone wrong. I took a picture of my new fushia hat, my camera sizzled, the flash did not go off and I could smell burning. Neither of the toilets work in the apartment. One is being fixed professionally, which in London means that it takes men from 3 or 4 unions to coordinate getting all of the parts and then doing the service on it. The other toilet needs a full time service agent to flush it 10 times between each use. So ... missing the first half of the opera doesn't seem like all that much going wrong.

Wyona says that we can dissolve our troubles by getting some money out of the bank and going to shop at Petticoat Lane tomorrow.

Arta

London Chinatown and The Elixir of Love

We just came back from buying tickets for Elixir of Love at the Colesium. I was remarking to Wyona that we were in the line-up at 4:30 and it was 5:30 when we walked back in the door. What I was thinking about is that first you have to scan the London Theatre Guides to see what is playing from drama, theatre, musicals. Then find out who can go on which day. Next make the trip to the theatre that morning of to get discounted seats, or try to pick some up at Leicester Square. Add to that, meeting there if you have to be there in person to get the cheaper seats.

The woman at the ticket wicket explained to us that she needs ID. Wyona and I were complimented that the woman think we looked that old. She explained that there are many concessions: those over 65; those who belong to the Actor’s Guild; students; the unemployed. How does a person have ID to show they are unemployed, Wyona asked. The woman said you get a card saying you are in that category.

Being unemployed and being able to pay£35 for a ticket to the opera seem like mutually exclusive propositions to me. For The Elixir of Love, Wyona and Greg got tickets in the dress circle. I was in the stalls – A22. How close do you think I was to the conductor? I could see his profile for the whole concert, the movement in his hands, the expressions on his face, his crouching, leaning, weaving, mouthing of the words. When I got home, I demo-ed some of the moves for Wyona and Greg for they were in the balcony. Yes, said Greg, I was watching the conductor as well.

“You have my husband’s seat,” said the older woman in a seat next to me. “I turned it in the day before last when I could see he couldn’t come. His mother is sick. Or says she is.”

“Too bad. How old is she?”

“Ninety-four.”

“I hope she has enjoyed many such concerts as these in her lifetime.” What else was there for me to say?

“Oh no! She would never come here. Thinks it is a complete waste of time and money.”

The music started. The curtain went up. The production was first done in Stockholm, created for their national orchestra. Rossini’s Elixir of Love, modernized. The story line is essentially the same but the text now in English; the setting 1950’s Texas; the costuming included hair rollers for the women and jean overalls for the men; the heroine’s wig was reminiscent of Marilyn Monroe’s blonde coiffure; the charlatan actually uses phrases from Elvis Presley’s songs and mimes his hip gyrations and foot work. The seargant chews gum when he isn’t signing. His jaw was still going at the end of concernt bows.

I couldn’t not stop laughing at all of this, though no one else on my row appeared to find it amusing. “That’s the British for you,” I thought. However the audience did warm up to other humour.

In the second act when scene was on the outside of the restaurant and the bathroom stalls were visible, a woman stood in the line-up to the toilets, crossing her legs and doing a dance as she waited her turn for the bathroom. After the first verse of a song by the chorus, the sound of a toilet rushing brought ripples of laughter. After the second verse, the same flush, and more laughter. By the time the third flush was heard, the audience was warmed up to the potty humour and loved the fact that the woman came out of the restrooms with her dress tucked up in her pantyhose at the back. Pointless lavatory sequence. That is what the reviewer called it. I am with the reviewer on that one.

Not fair to tell all of this, and not say the voices soared and the tenor’s love song brought a quiet hush to the house – a nice beginning for a Valentine weekend.

Love,

Arta