Just so You're in the Know....

So, where to begin? Let it be known that I’m typing this in my room on January 10, and will later post it on the internet, probably while drinking a babyccino čokolada at one of the many Coffee and Co.s in Starý Mesto. Not the point.

This is my last day of break. Tomorrow, I go back to school. Huzzah. I’m looking forward to seeing all of my classmates, and finding out about how people’s break went. I’ll also be happy not to be in the apartment all the time. Not that I don’t like it, it’s just that it’ll be nice not to spend so much time alone. My new host family is more separated than the last one, so, while I like being alone, it’s also harder to find company when you do want it. It’s complicated to explain.

I went to see a production of the opera Turandot by Puccini at the Slovak National Theater on Thursday. I had really been looking forward to it; a few years ago, my vocal ensemble teacher had let us watch a performance of the riddle scene that was on video of scenes from various operas from performances at the Metropolitan Opera House. Being realistic, I wasn’t expecting the same quality as the Met, but, still.... The whole production had an almost, almost cheesy feel to it. Beth (who went with me) came up with the perfect word for it: amateurish. That might seem harsh to you, but consider this: At one point, there was a scene where there was a use of screen play (specifically, people dancing behind a screen, with their shadows projected forward). Now, this might have been really nifty, and cool, except for one itty-bitty detail: the screen, which was being held up by actors, wasn’t high enough to cover the dancers’ heads. It was so bad. And there was entirely too much yellow in their costuming. No one even really looked good in the yellow! I don’t know why they did. Maybe they had a lot of yellow satiny material on hand, and decided to go for the cheap solution to the problem? All I know is that when you put yellow against a yellowish-orange backdrop, it doesn’t show up very well. My other major gripe is that they only had the... well, they were above the stage, so it wasn’t a subtitle, but the same general idea, in Slovak. Now, Beth and I had gotten there early, so we had milled around the halls for quite some time. I’d say at least a quarter to half the audience spoke English as their first language. In other words, having the translations only in Slovak? Yeah. Stupid move. Irksome. Oh well. The music was lovely, even if I didn’t understand what they were saying most of the time. (On a side note, I want to know what Puccini had against altos. Both of the female roles, Liu and Turandot, were most definitely soprano parts. Why couldn’t he have made one of them an alto? Just one?)

On a much darker note, it looks like I might be the only American Rotary Exchange student in Bratislava before too much longer. Beth has, through no fault of her own this time, managed to get caught in a mess with her visa. Apparently, the FBI has started using a different format on their background check forms. Now, instead of fingerprints, you get a letter saying ‘this person hasn’t committed any felonies’. That’s fine, except for they don’t put down your birthday on this form. So now the Slovak bureaucracy is screaming because Beth might be any Beth of the same name (err, for example, I’m sure there’s more than one Elizabeth Ann Thompson in the US. The Slovaks are worried that someone named Elizabeth Ann Thompson might hand in the FBI letter belonging to a different Elizabeth Ann Thompson.), and that she can’t stay. So, she’s going to meet with the head of the International Police on Wednesday, and they’re going to talk. In all probability, she’s going to be heading back to the States by the end of the month. The thought is mildly depressing, somehow.

And that’s all there is. There isn’t anymore.