Opera House

Rapid fire Tuesday: tired in the morning. Haircut. Made a phone call to the states in the loud and busy subway. Not sure why I picked that spot. Train to Newtown – a bohemian college town with eclectic shops. It was cold and I was not in the mood to shop. Saw a poster with quotes from the original ‘The Office’ show and laughed for 15 minutes. I got lost. Into an internet café where I read about the Bengals. Back in town there were masses of people. I bought a ticket for the monorail – massive tourist trap built for the 2000 Olympics. No one from Sydney rides on the thing. It was packed and went around in a tiny circle. Hit the Powerhouse museum which has nothing on COSI.

The Opera House was the day’s event. I gussied up in my Sunday Best – including a 2nd hand blue dress shirt that was missing two buttons. I thought it was INTENTIONALLY missing two buttons, for the sake of style. I convinced myself of this. A week later my buddy had to tell me, head shaking in pity, that ‘dude, that is not the style of the shirt – it is just missing two buttons.’ But this was of little consequence.

Front shot

I walked back through the Botanical Gardens that was lit up by lamps. I appreciated being able to walk around at night without looking over my shoulder. The city lights shimmered off the ocean. I was moving with a purpose and I felt like 100 dollars. At a harbor-side café, I did my best Ernest Hemmingway impersonation and ordered raw oysters and white wine.

Student discount tickets are released 20 minutes before show time. I inquired of these and expressed my regret for leaving my student ID ‘back in my dorm in the states’ but this time my act did not fly. Opera tickets were over $100 – for lousy seats. I almost bought these anyway, for the sake of sitting in the spectacular concert hall. I settled on a Shakespeare play that was showing in the drama theatre. The woman said my seats were great. She would prove to be right.

The theatre was designed to look like a ship with all of
its sails open.

The Playhouse venue is actually underneath the main theatre structures. I snaked through the lobby with a glass of wine and looked at everything and everybody. To me, I was in high society. I wondered what the PNG security guards back in Kondiu would think if they saw me now. Even without two buttons.

My seat was smack in the middle, six rows from the stage. And next to me was the loveliest of brunettes. It took me about 10 seconds to deduce that she was alone and I immediately started plotting. I could barely concentrate on the show. And the show was good. It was ‘Measure to Measure’ – a Shakespeare play I had never heard of about a king who turns over the power of his land to his top aide and then masquerades as a priest so he can remain in his kingdom and observe what unfolds. His own, personal sociological experiment. The play was ‘modern Shakespeare’ - the dialogue was the same but the scenery and costumes were modern and the acting was blunt and contemporary. It made it easier to follow.

Intermission came. I was never so happy for halftime. The woman to my left was German, named Monique, and was enjoying the show though she felt she was missing the subtle nuances because her command of the English language was not great. I thought this honest admission was so sweet. Her English sounded fine to me. I was missing plenty of the words myself and told her so.

The 2nd half began. The show was good but I was struggling to stay awake. I had not slept well for weeks. I managed to snap out of it for the last 30 minutes. The lights came on and I struggled to gather myself for I knew I only had one shot. I asked Monique if she wanted to have some coffee – she agreed. We went to another café on the water and told our stories. She was on an internship from Berlin. She was staying in Sydney and loved it. I babbled like I had not talked to anyone for years. I walked her to her bike – she had to ride back to her hotel. European girls are bold. Few women in the USA would ride their bike home, in the city, at 11pm at night. I was impressed. We made vague plans for the weekend and I got her number. I didn’t think I would see her again.