The Metropolitan Opera
My days here in the city are dwindling fast, but by luck of scheduling my uncle is in town to share in adventures with me this week. If you've ever thought that I have a knack for packing a travel itinerary and wondered where I got it from, look no further than my Uncle Steve. I could write pages and pages about what a wonderful force he has been in my life, but I'll stick to detailing the adventures we've had.
His main love in life is the opera, so naturally he took me for my Metropolitan Opera debut on Wednesday night to see Don Carlo. We arrived a bit early so he could show me around his beloved home base — he's been coming to the Met for nearly 40 years. I'd never been to the opera before, and my only taste of Lincoln Center was Avery Fisher Hall, site of a Meryl Streep tribute in 2008. I had gotten terribly sick before that trip, but was determined to make it to the event — which included speeches from Christopher Walken, Uma Thurman, Robert Redford, Robert DeNiro and the Goddess Streep herself — where I had fourth row tickets. Thanks to my condition, I mostly remember the night from under a fog of cough-syrup, and I was excited to experience the true purpose of Lincoln Center without a purse stuffed with Kleenex.
I immediately fell in love with the amazing chandeliers that hang in the lobby, as well as the house. They were a gift from the Austrian government, in thanks for the United States' help rebuilding after WWII, and they're spectacular. The ones in the house hang low and then magically rise up to the ceiling as the performance starts. I was so awed by them, in fact, that somewhere between using the ladies room and gawking at the chandeliers, I lost my opera ticket. By that time I had already used it to get into the house, as well as noticed that my uncle had paid quite a lot of money for it — so I tried not to panic. I retraced my steps, but of course couldn't find it.
While I was cursing my carelessness (at home I'm actually notorious for finding things, not losing them), my uncle approached the house manager and informed him of our "ticket crisis." He graciously looked up my uncle's order, and issued me a handwritten ticket, which I didn't end up having to use. We were sure we were going to have to kick someone out of my seat, but thankfully no one challenged us.
The seats are surprisingly comfortable (I'm no supermodel but I am pretty tall, and always thankful for adequate leg room) and each one is outfitted with a display for subtitles, offered in a few different languages. Don Carlo was sung in Italian, so of course the subtitles helped, but sometimes it was nice to ignore them and just lose myself in the beautiful voices. It was a bit of a haul — more than four hours — but with two intermissions and interesting staging it went by quite quickly.
I'm proud to say that I not only survived (aka didn't fall asleep or emit a loud snore like the unfortunate woman in front of me) but actually enjoyed my first opera. Although it would have been hard not to catch a piece of my uncle's enthusiasm, and I'm sure it didn't hurt that we were in one of the best opera houses in the world. The next day, in fact, we went back to the Met during the day to see if we could secure a spot on their sold-out-for-months backstage tour. Once again, my uncle, doing what he does best, managed to get our names on the standby list just in time, and we were the last people admitted when the empty spots went up for sale.
The tour is a bit pricey ($20) but when the woman asked if I was a full-time student, I hesitantly replied yes and received a $10 ticket (without even having to show my ID, although I'm not sure if that's standard practice, but certainly worth a shot). It was definitely worth the price of admission, however, and I highly recommend the tour even if you know (or care) nothing of opera.
The Met is an enormous arts organization, and the inner workings of the building and the company are fascinating. We got to see dressing rooms, backstage, prop rooms, wig rooms, storage and rehearsal spaces. There were tons of people rushing about, moving scenery, sewing costumes, rehearsing shows and it was exciting to observe the numerous men and women behind the curtain. You weren't allowed to snap photos inside the house or backstage, but I managed to sneak a few. I would love to work in the prop department, faux wood-graining styrofoam trees, painting fake blood on costumes or gold-leafing intricate architectural details that can't possibly be seen from the audience, but are there so the singers can feel one with their characters.
Our tour guide was a cute older man named "Arthur", whom my uncle quickly labeled a "font of misinformation," but even without any of his explanation the tour would have been worth it. I recommend getting tickets in advance, of course, but even if it's sold out, there are usually at least a few spots open so it's worth a try. As much as my uncle loves opera, and loves sharing that love of opera, I'm sure this wasn't my last time at the Met. Next time, however, you can bet that my uncle will be holding onto our tickets.
