Wednesday, September 21, 2005
It’s up to you, New York, New York
So it was, again, a New York weekend. I flew over on Friday to enjoy a four-day weekend of drinking, meeting up with the parents, and going to opening night at the Metropolitan Opera as well as their first performance.
So Friday night Rob picked me up at the airport and we went down to the Village for some partying. Saturday, Mom arrived and my quarters moved from 105th street downtown to 40th street. That night it was out to an upper east side piano bar to meet up with old friends. . . What a night. . . I happened to meet new people as well, and feel somewhat homesick for the Big Apple. Sunday night was back down to the Village for a little repeat of Friday night (I also met someone, but that’s for another blog).
Sunday was also the night before the opening of the Met. My ex and his mother were also coming along, and we would also meet an old colleague of mine there as well. But Sunday was a day with more sobering news. . my ex’s father passed away that day (his parents were one among those things I missed most about that break-up).
Jeeees
I called his mother and offered her my condolences. I’d known them for about 7 years she always seemed this rational, almost stolid, person (she used to be a judge, for god’s sake). But when I called her she was weeping. I felt like weeping too, but held it together for her sake – she doesn’t need to have anyone else falling apart.
Change seemed in the air as other things gained some traction. I had been contacted to go on an interview for a job in New York and had it on Monday while I was in town: I got a job offer for a position in New York the following day. Is it back to the Big Apple? Perhaps. . .
With all of this excitement I almost forgot about the purpose of the trip: To go to the Met.
Monday night came around and the ex and his mother decided to come along despite it all. In this opening night, they did an act of Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro”, Puccini’s “Tosca” and “Samson et Delilah”. Starring nobody but the very finest of the opera world, the experience was astounding: Domingo, Terfel, Grahm, the names go one and on. . . they belted it out for a fantasic opening night. (See review from the New York Times)
The following day we decided to see the reigning diva, Renee Fleming, sing in Manon. The production was, of course, quite a spectacle (it’s the Met) and the third act opens with a crowd scene featuring a tightrope walker, animals, and the most beautiful French gounds imaginable. It just got better as the evening progressed and the audience became electrified yelling its “Bravos!” at the end of each act. The house was getting dangeriously excided. It was really something. (Review)
So last night it was time to wind down and force ourselves back to reality and to bed to make a 7am flight to catch this morning (it was already 1am).
So Friday night Rob picked me up at the airport and we went down to the Village for some partying. Saturday, Mom arrived and my quarters moved from 105th street downtown to 40th street. That night it was out to an upper east side piano bar to meet up with old friends. . . What a night. . . I happened to meet new people as well, and feel somewhat homesick for the Big Apple. Sunday night was back down to the Village for a little repeat of Friday night (I also met someone, but that’s for another blog).
Sunday was also the night before the opening of the Met. My ex and his mother were also coming along, and we would also meet an old colleague of mine there as well. But Sunday was a day with more sobering news. . my ex’s father passed away that day (his parents were one among those things I missed most about that break-up).
Jeeees
I called his mother and offered her my condolences. I’d known them for about 7 years she always seemed this rational, almost stolid, person (she used to be a judge, for god’s sake). But when I called her she was weeping. I felt like weeping too, but held it together for her sake – she doesn’t need to have anyone else falling apart.
Change seemed in the air as other things gained some traction. I had been contacted to go on an interview for a job in New York and had it on Monday while I was in town: I got a job offer for a position in New York the following day. Is it back to the Big Apple? Perhaps. . .
With all of this excitement I almost forgot about the purpose of the trip: To go to the Met.
Monday night came around and the ex and his mother decided to come along despite it all. In this opening night, they did an act of Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro”, Puccini’s “Tosca” and “Samson et Delilah”. Starring nobody but the very finest of the opera world, the experience was astounding: Domingo, Terfel, Grahm, the names go one and on. . . they belted it out for a fantasic opening night. (See review from the New York Times)
The following day we decided to see the reigning diva, Renee Fleming, sing in Manon. The production was, of course, quite a spectacle (it’s the Met) and the third act opens with a crowd scene featuring a tightrope walker, animals, and the most beautiful French gounds imaginable. It just got better as the evening progressed and the audience became electrified yelling its “Bravos!” at the end of each act. The house was getting dangeriously excided. It was really something. (Review)
So last night it was time to wind down and force ourselves back to reality and to bed to make a 7am flight to catch this morning (it was already 1am).
# posted by otas : 3:01 PM
