Nobody understood my passion for opera as did my ex. Perhaps I drove him crazy with it. As much as I loved it, he did not. No matter what my approach, I could not inspire him. He was an outstanding football coach, but forget opera. I tried everything. The more I tried, the more he hated it. I had to let it go. It deeply saddened me. It took years to realize that I was better off going alone rather than to piss off the whole Met audience as he snored through Vissi d'Arte. Not to mention the pressure on our relationship. After moving out of New York City, the world of opera was no longer at my doorstep, so a part of me had died.I never really found anyone to go to the opera with, who could get the same goose bumps at the same time. It's kind of like having fabulous sex. During the last years of my marriage, before I took up cycling, I would escape for long weekends to places like Verona and Milan, just to see 2 nights of great opera. I would plan business trips around which houses were showing which operas in which cities near which clients. And then I would get tickets for all of us. They loved it, I loved it, and JPMorgan loved it.
Living in Italy has opened up more widely than ever before, the doors to this passion. Since living here, I've taken every possible opportunity to attend local performances, and it's everywhere to be had. From the small local opera at St. Mark's.....to the Puccini and Rossini Festivals, to La Scala...the very best is within touching distance. Now, God, just let me live long enough!
So, 2 days ago I told Angella that I was going to Boboli, to see Aida. She decided to come with me. She's not a seasoned opera fan, but she's really interested in learning. So, last night we went to Palazzo Pitti, and watched an exquisite performance of Aida in the stunning outdoor setting of the Boboli Gardens. And remember last night's full moon over the Arno? Well, during Act II, as Radames was appointed leader of the Egyptian army, the same pregnant moon popped out and rose over the stage, dazzling the audience. It was mystical. Like everything else here in Florence.
Thanks, God.
