Do what the Romans do.
That was the advice I got from all kinds of sources-orientation, my parents, friends, people who like to quote random things on the internet. But as I began searching my memory for things that Romans or even more generally, Italians do, all I could think of is eat delicious food and sing dramatically.
As we officially enter month 3 (WHAT?!?! TIME WENT WHERE!?!?!) I think I have successfully eaten at least my share of delicious food. And as of tonight, I have also watched people sing dramatically. Hashtag winning.
Erica, Molly, and I decided that this was the perfect weekend to go and see one of those famous singy-things people keep talking about. So we did some research, and found an opera performed in All Saints Church a little north of us. We buy our tickets, and suddenly decide that we should go out to dinner instead of cooking. All right. Someone set the timer, 3 girls, getting ready to actually leave and go to an opera, 15 minutes. GO.
DING! Ok winners! We we traipsing out the door in plenty of time, and over to our favorite little pizza place. Had some grub and then managed to get on some public transportation that we assumed was headed in the right direction.
The good news is that it was, in fact, headed in the right direction. The bad news was that since it was Saturday, and since it was about 7:30 ish, that particular bus route changed. Just, changed. So when we thought we were going to one area of town, we kind of made a much smaller loop back to the area where we started. Unga Bunga. The minute we realized that, we jumped off the bus, and began walking instead. This would only begin our turbulent relationship with the 119.
So three girls wearing cute outfits and heels (remember how Italy loves cobblestones? I do!) clop over to the church. Now this isn't as simple as it seems. 1) Read the part about the heels (I really do miss them... and my suits.... but MN is only snowy, not cobblestoney.) 2) Highly trafficked pedestrian area. 3) Back tracking where the bus should have gone. But like the tough women we are, we made it all the way to the church with plenty of time to spare.
This church was surprisingly, British. All brick with only the marble columns, and dark wood on the floors and the ceiling. The acoustics were solid, but there's a slight flaw in the placement of the performers. Due to the partition between the alter area and the rest of the sanctuary, there is not only a marble banister, but a very specific archway that separates the two. The problem occurs when the orchestra is in front of the arch, and the singers are behind it. So all of the acoustic wonderful-ness that the building offers, only really helps out the instruments, and not so much the vocalists. So that was a little bit of a bummer. Especially, when a simple dynamic change/regulation could have solved most of those issues.
Regardless, the church was pretty, the music was pretty, the friends were pretty, I had a great time. I would have preferred that the aisle lights in the back been turned off, and that the orchestra would have toned it down a bit, but all in all, I'm content.
So after the final dying notes dissipated (who said I couldn't write. That was punny too. Look up La Traviata and tell me I'm wrong) we trooped out the door and began walking home. Clever us, we thought we'd catch the bus back. LIES. The bus drove right past the bus stop and we walked allllllll the way to Argentina. Sad cobblestoned day.
And now we are back home. My feet will continue to yell at me, and I'm going to bed.