Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Living. Home or not.

Many singers I know find themselves residing in hotels. Usually our accommodation is not paid by our employer but by us, and so it is our choice to decide where to stay. Hotels have their own advantage of course; You can make a mess and it gets cleaned up, you usually have cable TV, and if you are precious, you can get the food, or whatever else you need when you need it, served on a silver plate.
Some singers feel that as we sacrifice so much, being on the road, being alone, being on a crazy schedule, the least we can get in return (even if we spend our last cent on it) is the luxury of living like we are rich.
However, hotel living, just like fancy- living, leaves you on a certain boring level of living; a bit detached.
Hotels are not where the real people of the city live. Those people, (or : most people) don't pay 150 to 250 Euros a night, they don't get cabs everywhere, and they are most certainly in charge of their own coffee in the morning and meals during the day (or night if they are being naughty...).
So when I go on an opera gig (which usually lasts a month or two ), I look for an apartment.
When you live in an apartment which is already a living part of the city, a part which existed before you arrived and will exist after you leave, you immediately get infused into that city.
I like the real face of a city, with its wrinkles and sun spots; with it's elders and its youth, the natives and the foreigners, the markets and the public transportation, I love rush hour. I love the dogs in the park, (here there are cats too!) the cafes and all that surrounds me; the reality that doesn't belong to me yet, but I wish to adopt.
I recently met another fellow singer who was just finishing her opera performances here, and as I came the following day to say hello to her at the hotel where she's been staying, I passed by the hotel's restaurant, where I saw her sitting all by herself. She was the only person there.
When the waiter finally appeared, she talked to him briefly, ordering her usual dish of pasta and as he left to place her order, she was all alone again, staring at the distant art work on the wall, which I assume she knew all too well by now.
My heart missed a beat. At that moment I saw her life, OUR life, as it can be with all its loneliness squeezed into one split second. You will never ever find me dining at a restaurant by myself. I would rather get some stuff at the supermarket, or not eat at all.
Maybe I am simply afraid of being alone.
Here in Rome, I am staying in an apartment which belongs to a fellow colleague, who is singing somewhere else. Of course, apartment living gets you into the veins of the city but also forces you to hear the pulse even when you don't want to.
This morning I woke up way too early to the sound of my upstairs neighbor walking on her high heels. I thought she was just getting ready to leave the house. But hey, I forgot Italian women like their stilettos, leaving the house or staying in... The little steps continued to plunk over my head back and forth the entire morning.
So my sleeping here, as you probably know already, is not really all that satisfying.
But even so, I somehow love hearing a real passionate Italian domestic argument in the middle of the night. I triumph accepting a letter on the behalf of my landlord, pretending it is for me. I rejoice in buying a bunch of bananas and a Kilo mandarins from the local fruit vendor. You should try those mandarins here; So sweet and filled with goodness!

Monday, November 27, 2006

And so...

Sorry for the delay in writing; Things have been a bit nuts here and since I can be pretty vocal about it, and since it's a public blog, I decided to shut the hell up and try let it pass.
All I *can* say, and so I will, is that one learns to appreciate the union (thank you AGMA!) when there is none.
When any cast member can get fired at any moment for no reason, when rehearsal days can sometimes be 8, 9 hours, no day off, when the less fortunate cast members compete for the premiere until the very last week of rehearsals, and when, oh well, never mind. All of this is the normalcy in Italy, and I think people who are used to working here, are simply used to it.
I took the day off because I felt I was getting sick.
Couldn't sleep for a few nights now, and I got only 1 sweet little Ambien (sleeping pill) left.
You can only dream of (ha ha ha) getting a sleeping pill with no prescription here, so at the pharmacy they gave me valerian, which is a nice herb, but it's probably more useful in a minestrone soup instead.
So I will try go to bed early tonight and think good thoughts about all the good stuff in my life. I am a Labrador, I can do it.

Saturday, November 18, 2006

"Casino" or: the Italian way

Being here almost two weeks, I was ready mentally but apparently not ready enough, for this; what the Italians would call "Casino" and the French describe as "Bordelle (de merde", sorry ye delicate readers). The translation is not really "chaos" but more precisely a loud, un organized mess you just want to flee.
Rehearsal schedule is an extremely general idea here (and independent of any time frame) and when you arrive, you learn that your (very famous) Jose, the singer with whom you are supposed to prepare this very meant-to-be detailed drama, is not even going to show up until the very last week of rehearsals. Nor is the conductor.
Over the years, I have learnt about the unwritten hierarchy of diva-ness in the business; The more famous you are, the more liberty you can take when it comes to rehearsing. A good friend of mine who was the most famous singer in a previous cast, and was 2 weeks late to rehearsals, is now complaining that a known diva ,(more famous than my friend) who is currently in his cast, will not show up until much, much later. That's how things work. Deal with it or get famous.

On the bright side: Wonderful beautiful Rome, great fashion everywhere, fabulous food, my name here (pronounced so charmingly on every street I walk ) apparently is "Bella", and I am working in the late evenings to improve my hobby skills, composing Ambiance music on "GarageBand".

Thursday, November 16, 2006

The Roman ring

A very sweet lady, looking like an older,( sweeter, if you can believe it) Juliette Binoche, crossed the street towards me, and happened to step upon a man's lost wedding ring. She bent over and surprised, full of excitement she quickly picked it up, looked at it, caught my eyes, and smiled at me victoriously. I smiled back, feeling happy for her on her fortunate find.
She looked at me and with big happy brown eyes, grabbed my arm lovingly and started to speak. She was overwhelmed. "How strange, how amazing to find a wedding ring just like that, on my 33rd marriage anniversary!"
But since she is a religious woman and it is forbidden to wear any jewelry, she explained, she hereby is offering me that ring, to keep and to hold. "for good luck, for good luck!".
I didn't know what to say. I don't really care for 18 karat men's wedding bands, and I don't believe it's a lucky thing at all, to keep someone else's symbols. But the sweet lady insisted on pushing the shiny, 18k stamped golden band into my hand. "take it, please take it".
"alright" I agreed, starting to become a little suspicious. But when she asked me for a payment in return , I finally understood what a fabulous scheme that was.
I laughed, and for the sheer appreciation of her innovative story, and the highly talented acting, (this was an entire 10 minute audience participation, very emotional show!), I handed her a 5 Euro note.

Thursday, November 09, 2006

Buon Giorno, Roma!

Yes yes, I have arrived. Now what? Back home, It took me AGES to decide whether I take the MAC or the PC. I decided on the MAC because I need to get friendlier with it, and it's about time I started to trust it. So what can be a bigger trust test? I brought it with me, only me and Mackypoo, traveling together to this strange internet-iffy place. So, not to my surprise,( but I did hope for a miracle), I got a slap in the face; Wireless has not been invented here yet, and the promised ADSL in the apartment is just .. Not there...Not there at all.

These can be my last words here for a while. So if you are worried , just know that I am probably sitting in some fabulous trattoria in Rome and stuffing my face with a few mozzarella balls or something.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Domani

So I am ALMOST packed. There are always a few things that will still lie around until the very last moment.("I SHOULD after all take that odd ___ I never wear , because it goes with the ____ I also never wear, which I packed already), and there are a few things I will decide to get out of the case and leave behind (why on earth take THREE identical black sweaters).
Can you tell I am excited? You'd think with all the traveling I've done, and all the places I've been , I would be jaded about going away.
But I always get a little buzz in my stomach before I travel. It's this anxiety feeling you get before going skinny dipping in an unknown lake.