Madame Butterfly

Ed's mother is an opera afficianado. Her father was a conductor, and she was brought up with classical music, reportedly attending operas from the age of 3. She estimates that she has seen Madame Butterfly somewhere between 15 and 30 times, and so when the Metropolitan Opera announced it would be performing it, she made the trip up from Texas for the occasion. Luckily, I was invited to tag along with Ed  and some of her other friends.

The performance space, seen from seats much less awesome than ours.

The Metropolitan Opera House is spectacular. It's covered with red velvet and lit by grand chandeliers that rise up toward the ceiling as the lights go down. It was an elegant, quietly splendid venue. The crowd, I'm sorry to say, was often less elegant. Before the show and between acts, Ed and I did a lot of dramatic head jerking and whispering to draw each other's attention to yet another relic of the 1920's dressed in a skimpy, sequined cocktail dress her granddaughter was probably too old for. We also spent several minutes in hot debate about whether that person with the long hair, sparkling headband, and utility vest was a man or a woman. To balance this out, however, there were women in luscious furs and men in richly tailored suits and tuxedos.

The music, of course, was live, and the orchestra was conducted by Placido Domingo, one of the three tenors. (Ed was horrified that I didn't recognize his name, but like much of the world I know the three tenors as "Pavarotti and those two other guys.") When he took his position, the audience went wild in the way that opera audiences tend to do: more fervent clapping kept at a respectable, reasonable volume, with an occasional, ill-advised whistle.

Butterfly with her puppet son

I thought the show itself was wonderful. The staging was really creative, with a mirrored, angled ceiling above the stage reflecting the action and showers of cherry blossoms now and then. Extras in black clothing and black veils draped paper lanterns around the singers or flew birds perched on long staffs through the air to signify the changing seasons. One of the best parts was Butterfly's son, played by a traditional bunkaru puppet instead of a real little boy. (Apparently having a three-year-old on stage was too nerve-wracking, as no one was really sure what he'd do once he got out there.) He required three puppeteers to keep him in action, but it was really astonishing how life-like his movements were, and he got a standing ovation during the curtain call. In front of my seat was a screen displaying an English translation of the words, so I was able to keep up with the story.

The dramatic fan dance that begins Madame Butterfly

Following the show, Ed, his mother, a family friend and I went to a very late dinner at a fantastic restaurant near Chelsea Market that Ed and I have recently discovered. Our reservation was for 11:15, but by the time we got there it was closer to 11:30. Appropriately, we drank sake and ate a variety of Asian-inspired dishes, and I didn't get to bed until 2:00 in the morning! I loved seeing the opera and would certainly be open to seeing more, provided I continue to work in an office with a ready supply of coffee for the mornings after performances.

Getting Through the Holidays

I'm not going to any real Christmas parties this year, which is a little disappointing. My office will be having a "holiday dinner" at a restaurant next Monday (as I am the only full-time member of the staff who is not Jewish, I suppose a Christmas party would be asking a lot) and I'm going to an ugly holiday sweater party on Thursday, but I imagine that will feel like a regular house party except that everyone will be wearing bright colors. So when my friend Eddie told me he was singing in a Christmas medley show at the famous Birdland jazz club, I didn't hesitate to say I'd be there. Birdland is a lot of fun, I love watching Eddie perform, and I felt I was in need of some Christmas spirit.

The show was run by Zach James, a college friend of Eddie's who studied opera. Zach has been extremely successful, performing on Broadway not once but three times. Currently he plays Lurch in the long-running Addam's Family.  He certainly looks the part: he's very tall and thin, but at the same time seems too cheerful and good-natured to play the role. He emceed the show, entitled "Getting Through the Holidays," and sang quite a few of the numbers and was really wonderful.

Zach in the role of Lurch

Zach explained that he'd "gotten some friends together" to do the event, and I was struck by what a statement like that means for someone like that as the show went on.  Eddie's number, "The Oogy-Boogy Man" from The Nightmare Before Christmas was the first one, and he was fantastic. He really hammed it up and had the audience in stitches. A classically trained opera diva sang "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus," a version replete with extremely dramatic arpeggios in odd places.  A crooner with slicked-back hair joined Zach in a duet of "Silent Night." A friend of Eddie's in a slinky black dress with feathers in her hair sang a jazzy song about New Year's. A short, older, very Jewish woman did a few minutes of stand-up-style comedy before treating us to an overly phlegmy version of "Silent Night" in Yiddish. And a frumpy drag queen named Bertha, the self-titled "Hausfrau of the Heartland" did a hilarious act in tights and a red dress trimmed with white fur. It was, needless to say, quite a show.

I left full of martinis and the holiday spirit, feeling thankful that if I can't be a Broadway star, at least I can hang out with them.

Change-Up in Van Cortland Park

Today, I ran my 10th Road Runners race of 2011. This is significant because after race 9 a few weekends ago, I officially qualified for the 2012 New York Marathon - hooray! Today's race was not necessary for qualification purposes, but it was a very different race from the kind I'm used to here, and I'm glad I did it.

The Peter McArdle Cross Country Classic took place way up in Van Cortland Park, in the middle of the Bronx. The park is large and connects to a network of running trails that go through woods, so it was a welcome change from the road races I've gotten used to. It was a 15K (9.3 miles) course, made up of three 5K loops - not the most thrilling set-up, but there's something to be said for gaining familiarity with a hilly terrain.  By the third go-round I knew exactly where the biggest hills were and was ready for them. (Well, as ready as I was ever going to be.)

An uncharacteristically flat portion of the Van Cortland trails.

I've been going to the gym a lot lately, but I've been riding a stationary bike, lifting weights, and doing short running workouts, so I wasn't very prepared for this sort of run.  Not only was I out of shape, the hills were steep and the day was cold; when I left my apartment, my phone told me it was 37 degrees. Brrr. I dressed well for the race, though, and as soon as my muscles finally warmed up, which took ages, I was quite comfortable. The sunshine, when we weren't under tree cover, helped as well.

I ran a slow race, but a strategic race, which I was proud of. Lots of people barreled by me in the beginning only to run out of steam near the end, and I passed most of them again during the third lap, which was a nice feeling. I also seemed to be one of the only ones near the back of the pack who knew how to run hills. The idea is to shorten your steps and lean forward on the uphill - particularly if it is steep - and then open your strides as wide as possible on the downhill side and let gravity take you down; even though you're going quite fast, this approach actually takes less energy than trying fight gravity and slow yourself down.

Given that I haven't run more than 6 miles at a time in something like 2 months, I was surprised that I wasn't completely exhausted by the end. I held a steady pace throughout and did not fall into my usual post-race stupor once home. Despite my unexpected success (of sorts), this race was a good wake-up call. I've entered the lotteries for both the NYC half-marathon and the Empire State Building Run-Up, a race up the stairs to the top of the Empire State Building. If I get into either or both of those, I'd better adjust my training schedule, post haste.

Failed Experiement

On Sunday, I went over to Eddie's apartment. He had made dinner for Jeremy and me, and after tasty pasta and lots of wine, we walked over to a theater I shall not name to watch an opera I shall not name by a production company I shall not name. All this secrecy is because Eddie used to be involved with this company and had originally been cast in this opera, described by its creator as "experimental," "modern," and "techno." After reading his scene and attending a few rehearsals, however, he arranged to be replaced; he didn't want to quit exactly, but he also didn't want to be involved so he skipped a rehearsal and was generally unenthusiastic until he was informed that they were "going with someone else." Still, he wanted to be supportive, so Jeremy and I joined him. We met two of Eddie's friends, Steven and Chad, at the theater and all headed to the very back row post-haste.

The "lobby" of the theater, with blue tarp curtains and the name of the opera company in unsearchable text.

 The opera was a modern piece set to techno beats instead of instrumentals. It was supposed to be more accessible and enjoyable to a present-day audience, but it ended up being depressing and totally discordant. Within the first three minutes, I was glad I was slightly drunk. In each scene, several characters sang their way through various scenarios, like a straight couple trying to rent an apartment and arguing, a gay couple breaking up, a woman having an affair with a married man, and a power-obsessed stripper screaming at her roommate. All of this was delivered in very stylized operatic style, except that it was sort of unsettling to hear a soprano soaring through the upper registers of song to complain, in a Jersey accent, that having to act as landlady was "a pain in [her] ass." This contrasted further with the techno beats doggedly hammering away in the background. The dialogue (is it dialogue in an opera?) was repetitive, and once the characters' scenes were over, we didn't see them again until curtain call, making it hard to get attached to them, or to care about their dismal circumstances.

The stage. Each act took place in this setting, though different bedspreads were brought in to denote different rooms.

For 90 minutes we sat through the intermission-less show. Eddie kept himself busy by guiltily avoiding eye contact with everyone. Jeremy squeezed my knee at particularly bad moments so hard and so frequently I was sure I'd bruise. Steven mimed putting a gun into his mouth and pulling the trigger, and learned later that he had been sitting next to the writer. Whoops.

As soon as the show was over, we practically ran down the stairs to the street, struggling and mostly failing to contain our giggles and yelps of outrage. On the sidewalk, I was treated to a second, much more enjoyable theatrical performance as Jeremy and Steven, both theater majors and one exuberantly gay, treated us to an extremely dramatic rant about the horrors they'd just been through. Eddie did his best to shepherd us away from the theater door - he's worked with this company in the past and wasn't eager to burn too many bridges - but I'm pretty sure at least a few of the cast members heard Steven's detailed account of his suffering. Steven is one of those delightful people who spends virtually all waking hours with his foot in his mouth.

Eventually, Chad escorted the still spluttering Steven back home, while Jeremy, Eddie and I retired to a nearby bar to soothe our spirits with spirits. Looking back on the experience, if I was going to have to see a show like this I'm glad I saw it in the company I did. I am glad to have book-ended the experience with drinks. And I am also glad the performance was free.

Froehlische Thanksgiving!

If one is a vegetarian, Thanksgiving is bound to be pretty non-traditional. So since I was headed for an unusual holiday anyway, I decided to go for broke and spend Thanksgiving in a different country this year. Ed and I went to Berlin for a very quick 4-day trip to celebrate with Anthony and Jane. Ed had never been to Germany before, and I had a great time showing him around. Highlights included:

A Herta Berlin soccer game at the old Olympic stadium, the one where Jesse Owens embarrassed all the German athletes back in 1936. The stadium, as you can see, is beautiful inside, though outside it looks appropriately old and crumbly. The game ended in a tie - Herta's specialty, I hear - though we all enjoyed watching it, particularly the parts that involved watching diehard fans doing organized cheers and waving big flags, and drinking beer and eating pretzels. I sported a blue and white Herta scarf that I got as a belated birthday gift from my brother and Jane.


A trip to a bizarre gallery called Techles, that is actually an abandoned building which has been taken over by "artists." The place is dank and barren in some ways, with concrete floors and bare light bulbs (where there are light bulbs). Every inch of the walls has been thoroughly decorated by the artists, though, and the really prosperous ones have taken over individual rooms where they sell their work. Ed was nervous to go into the abandoned-looking building until we saw some relatively normal girls walking out, seemingly unscathed. We remained unscathed, too, though the urine smell that hung over the whole place was not to our liking. We toured another dark, dank part of Berlin when we took a Berlin Underground tour of the bunkers used by civilians during World War II. It was fascinating and I highly recommend this tour company to anyone who visits the city. Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take pictures, so I can't show you the cool glow-in-the-dark paint, interesting, pro-Nazi propaganda, or other artifacts we saw.

The view from our hotel, of Humbolt University and cranes.

I loved our hotel. We stayed near Unter den Linden, a tree-lined street at the very center of Berlin, in the Hotel de Rome. It was both classic and modern at the same time. Our room was spacious and the bathroom won my heart immediately when I learned that it was possible to heat the floor with a little dial on the wall. Each evening, we'd return to our room to find a roaring fire playing on the TV; not quite as nice as the real thing, but still impressive.




Although I've spent a fair amount of time in Germany, I've never been there in winter. I was delighted to be able to visit the famous Christmas markets at last - there were three within walking distance of our hotel! - and to sample the warm mulled wine sold there. Ed ordered his with a shot of amaretto, a decision I envied as soon as I tasted his. Jane and Anthony have shared their Gluehwein recipe with me, and I can't wait to try making a batch of my own. When we weren't knocking back mugs of the stuff, Ed and I enjoyed browsing the stalls, where all sorts of festive foods and wares were being sold. Germans definitely get into the holiday spirit at these things, and we saw a lot of people doing a lot of swaying. The soundtrack to this experience was a pleasing blend of Christmas carols, modern German music (which is sort of a mix between polka and techno), and classics like "It's Raining Men."

Ed and I took a walk along what is left of the Berlin Wall (while Anthony and Jane cowered in a warm coffee shop nearby). It is called the East Gallery now, because artists were each invited to decorate a panel of it after the communists fell. To go along with the theme, we also visited the Stasi Museum, were we learned a bit about the police force that used to keep civilians in check in East Germany. Unfortunately, most of the panels in the museum were in German, seriously testing my deteriorating language skills, but we still enjoyed seeing the hidden cameras and microphones used by secret agents to spy on people. At the time, they must have seemed tiny, and the height of technology, but it was hard to be impressed from a modern perspective. I saw a simple microphone that was the size of a deck of cards and had to be attached by a wire to a battery device that was even bigger.



Our meals were some of my favorite parts of the trip, though I have no pictures of them. Jane and Anthony made Thanksgiving dinner for us, which, aside from a debacle with some biscuits (tasty, but somewhat diminutive in stature), was delicious. At least, I think it was. They plied with with so much tasty German beer, wine, and Gluehwein that it's hard to say whether it was great, or whether I just thought it was great. Ed treated us all to dinner at a classy Japanese restaurant, we had an unforgettable brunch at a seemingly endless buffet, we investigated the German take on Indian food (which is very similar to the American take on Indian food), and we gorged on a decadent, lengthy meal at a cozy, French restaurant. All this great food was accompanied by even greater conversation and lots of laughs.

Proest mit Gluehwein!

The trip was over all too soon, and it's rather hard to believe I'm already back in New York, at work, as though nothing happened. Still, I'm thankful to have such great people in my life, and for opportunities, however limited, to toast them with steaming mugs of heavenly Gluehwein.

Brooms Up!

IQA's logo

My friend Julia is at once the coolest, nerdiest person I know. She's smart and funny and interesting, and totally unapologetic about her love for things like Disney cartoons, Harry Potter, and show tunes. We met at Columbia, but sadly she moved to Wisconsin to work on her Ph.D. I was delighted to get an email from her a few weeks ago telling me that she'd be back in the city for the weekend and was planning to attend the annual Quidditch World Cup, hosted by the International Quidditch Association.

Ed bravely agreed to accompany me to the event, which was to take place on Roosevelt Island. We took the train to Harlem but gave up on the bus that was supposed to take us to the island after waiting in a long line for at least 25 minutes for a bus that never showed up. Thanks to the magic of GPS-enabled cell phones, we discovered that the island was quite close, and that we could walk across the bridge and be there in less time than we'd spent waiting for the bus, so we set off. It was a lovely, sunny afternoon, perfect for a stroll along a busy highway.

A young wizard photographs the car.

The World Cup was not at all what either of us was expecting, although it's probably safe to say neither of us knew what we had in mind. The event was somewhat poorly run in some ways. It took us ages to find the entrance to the fenced enclosure where the competitions were taking place because there were no signs. Food was available, but only in the form of a single waffle truck and the line was at least 75 people deep. (I wished I'd thought to bake something and try to sell it there; I'd have made a killing.) Still, I had a fantastic time. When we finally made it inside the enclosure, we were greeted by a replica - it's possible that it was the real thing, but I doubt it - of the car Harry and Ron used to fly to school in one of the movies. The size of the event was surprising. I'm not sure how many schools were there competing (most teams were affiliated with colleges) but there were at least 8 fields with teams on them at all times while other teams warmed up or watched from the sidelines. I saw a team from Canada, and Julia said that they were not the only international team in attendance.

Brooms in front of the goals, ready for the start of the game.

Fans of the series may be wondering how quidditch can be adapted for real life. (For a complete set of rules, look up "Muggle Quidditch" on Wikipedia.) The short version is that each player, regardless of which of the three positions they play, runs around with a broomstick between his/her legs. Chasers toss around a partially deflated volleyball (a quaffle) and try to throw it between one of three hoops, usually hula hoops on poles, on their end of the pitch for ten points. Beaters act as defense. They throw one of the four inflated rubber balls (bludgers) at the chasers, and once a chaser is hit, s/he has to drop the volleyball, leaving it available for another player to snatch up. Tackling is legal and happens frequently, so Ed and I were surprised to see no pads, helmets, or mouth guards, particularly in a co-ed sport! Some of the players were enormous. Beaters can break up a tackle by hitting the opposing team member with a bludger if they happen to notice what is happening, which is not always the case.

The snitch

The most interesting aspect of the game is the snitch. In the books, it is a magical golden ball with wings that zooms around the field, and a player from each team, the chaser, attempts to catch it first. The snitch in muggle quidditch is a person dressed all in yellow with a tennis ball stuffed into a sock hanging from the back waistband of his pants. He plays for neither team and is not hindered by a broomstick. His job is to be entertaining as well as quick, so he dashes on and off the field and has been known to do cartwheels, climb trees, and race into the stands to give high-fives to the audience. The chasers tail behind him, trying to run with their broomsticks getting in the way, and flailing sometimes rather pathetically at the tennis ball. The one to capture it earns a huge number of points (100? 150?) for his/her team and ends the game.

The players took the games very seriously and I was surprised to find myself whooping and cheering and gasping within minutes of the start of my first game. It was very exciting to watch.

Bendene

The action at the tournament wasn't limited to the field, either. There was a stage on which various "wizard bands" performed, and we watched a guy dressed as Snape interview the founder of the quidditch league, Alex Benede who is in his late 20's and walked around the event in a suit, scarf, and top hat, brandishing a walking stick. Other costumes were even more striking, many involving wands, replicas of attire from the movies, and flowing capes.

As the sun went down and the wind picked up, it got to be downright freezing, and so we left while the action was still in full swing. Although I am not always a trooper when it comes to cold weather, I was genuinely sorry to go. I could have watched many more games before I tired of it, and will be sure to look out for this sort of quirky, ridiculous, generally enjoyable event in the future.

Preoccupied Wall Street

I apologize for the delay in getting this up. I'd hoped to do it the same day it happened, but one thing led to another, and then another...

Last Thursday, I noticed that several helicopters were hovering around downtown. They were readily visible, and audible, from my 12th floor office and were not patrolling but simply hanging around one spot. Jeremy, our intrepid office manager, knew what was going on, and so, apparently did the rest of the world: It was the two-month anniversary of the Occupy Wall Street Movement, and the night before protesters had been very dramatically kicked out of Zucotti Park. People were angry and felt their rights were being infringed upon, and so they staged a march from Union Square (this is what the helicopters were monitoring) to City Hall. 

I had not been involved in any part of the protest before this, but it looked like the kind of big event I should at least check out, for rubbernecking purposes if nothing else. Near the end of the work day, I watched a live stream broadcast on my computer by a guy with a video camera as he marched down Broadway, narrating the experience. There were police everywhere, but so far it seemed to be pretty mellow. After work I hopped a train to Union Square and stepped out of the train to a station, then a square, swarming with cops, some in riot gear. They were patrolling stairwells or congregating next to cars, but they looked pretty calm (despite the riot gear they were wearing) and there were no protesters in sight. Apparently, the march had not taken the 9-5 crowd's schedule into account and had already moved on. 

I went back to the station to wait for the next downtown train. I wasn't exactly sure which stop I needed, as I don't frequent City Hall, but when I spotted a thin, bearded guy in proletarian work boots, holding an enormous video camera and talking to another thin, bearded guy holding a pad and pen and knew I was home free. These "journalists" were clearly going the same way I was, and all I had to do was follow them. I meandered closer and listened to their conversation from behind a pillar. They appeared to have just met, and the guy with the camera was telling his new friend all about interviews he was planning to stage with different OWS participants. The train came at last, and the three of us got on the same car. After a few stops, one of them came towards me to look at the subway map behind me. "City Hall?" I asked him. He laughed, and said, "Lucky guess." "It's the next stop," I said. "You're not going?" he asked. "Oh no, I am," I replied, and added, in response to his question, that it was my first time to be "involved with the movement." His friend started to lift his pad and pen, and I studiously busied myself with my phone. I did not want to be interviewed as the voice of the new recruits. 

The station was chaotic when we got off the train, and the chaos only intensified as we left the station. Cops were everywhere, patrolling stairwells, street corners, and barricades. I had no idea which way to walk, but my trusty GPS pointed me in the right direction. Until, that is, I arrived at a barricade. A harried-looking cop told me and a group of others trying to make their way through that the sidewalk was closed. He told us in a tone both polite and tense how to use an alternate route to get to City Hall, and so I set off in that direction. The crowds thickened as I got closer. People with signs were everywhere, and some were chanting, "Occupy Wall Street/All day,/All week," over and over. Cops lined the gutters, blocking the streets so that protesters would stay on the sidewalks and cars could still travel on the roads. (I saw no signs of the police brutality I've heard about on the news. I read this morning that the OWS movement has cost $13 million in taxes for law enforcement and other services, and it was an easy number to believe given the number of police and the amount of equipment they were using to keep the crowds somewhat contained.) The scene once I got as near to City Hall as I was likely to be able to get was charged. People were chanting, waving signs, and handing out fliers. A shrill woman's voice on a loudspeaker, being broadcast over the whole crowd and talking about the strength of the movement and Americans speaking out, competed with a guy on his own bullhorn yelling about how it was time to embrace communism. What surprised me most about the crowd was the age of its members. I had expected more young, bearded types, like the ones on the train. Instead, the average age seemed to be about 40, with plenty of Occupiers much older than that. 

The square in front of City Hall

Five minutes there were enough for me, and I headed back the way I'd come. This turned out to be a failed endeavor, because the crowd had started to march toward the Brooklyn Bridge and the entrance to the subway I'd used to get there was completely blocked. I went two extra blocks to use another line instead, relieved to be out of the mess.

I wasn't expecting to be particularly inspired, and the experience met my expectations. The reason for this, I think, echoes a criticism I've heard a lot of people raise: Occupy Wall Street has no unified statement. Each protester brings his/her own message to the movement, and while that can be sort of cool, it also means that no one is going to be able to make them all happy. I've participated in marches and demonstrations, mostly for gay rights, they felt very productive. Everyone was on the same page, and our demands were clear. This protest felt very different. It seemed to be little more than a very large collection of angry people. I heard messages about embracing communism and socialism. I saw signs about unjust immigration policies and lack of funding for post-secondary education. I was handed fliers about health care reform and campaign finance. People talked excitedly about unemployment and taxes. It was dizzying. A lot of people were unhappy about a lot of things. The thing that unified them was distain for the famous "1%." My feelings about the situation are complicated and only half-solidified, which is part of the reason I had not gone down to check out OWS before this. There are certainly a multitude of problems in the country and the government, but I'd like to see a more organized, unified method of airing them.

One of many messages

 I went straight from City Hall to the gym. There, and for the rest of the night, I did not hear mention of OWS on the subways or streets. No one seemed to be either aware or concerned about what was going on at City Hall. It was a pretty interesting experience to go from pandemonium to business as usual in a few short stops on the train. Is this a metaphor for something? I'm not sure, but I am sure I won't be adding my own sign advertising my own agenda to the throng any time soon.