First exciting news: I had my first Italian pizza tonight. You know how they always say the pizza tastes different in Italy? Well, it does. It somehow seemed more fresh and tasty than anything I had eaten in the states.
The reason I was eating pizza is that I went out with my friend Kate, who had her final performance of Lucrezia Borgia at the theater tonight. I went and saw the production, partly to see her, and partly to get an idea of what the theater was like in a performance mode. The first thing I found totally fascinating was the plethora of firemen backstage. It turns out that they have a whole bunch of firemen and an EMT on site for every performance "just in case." And I think there were at least 10 of them (yes, some of them were very attractive Italian firemen, and no, none of them gave me a second glance. I'm used to it by now). The other thing I found interesting about the performance was the length of the singers bows. Even the singers who I couldn't even remember, who sang one line in the first act, would hang around on stage waving and blowing kisses as if they just sang Norma. I have to keep that in mind as I tend to be a quick and self-deprecating bower.
I attended the performance with another mezzo in my cast and the assistant to the stage manager. He's the one person who has totally taken pity on my and tried his best to talk to me and show me around when necessary, and I have no idea what his name is. It's terrible - he'll take me to show me where the bathroom is, and then wait for me outside lest I get lost on the way back (which is not impossible - the theater is a total maze) and I don't even know his name. How can I ask him now after so many bathroom escorts?? And the problem is that I'm not entirely sure what his actual job is - I think he's the assistant to the stage manager, but I could be wrong, so I can't look on any lists to try to find his name. Poor guy.
Oh, if you're ever in Italy, I would strongly suggest avoiding eating middle eastern food while you're here. Why would I possibly eat anything but Italian food you ask? Because all the f***ing restaurants are closed at certain hours, and I found out, so is the grocery store!!! I mean what's the logic in closing the grocery store? There are just certain hours that Italians decree that not only shouldn't you eat, but you are simply not capable of eating because they don't provide any food. I was starving after I finished rehearsal at 6PM and I had to be at the theater at 8, so even if I wanted to wait until 7:30 for the restaurants to open, I didn't have time. I thought, well, that's okay, I'll just stop by the grocery store and pick up a few things and whip something up for myself. But alas, the grocery store is chiudo also for some reason from like 5 til 7. So the ONLY place open was the kebab place on the corner, and it didn't really hit the spot. Thank goodness for the late night pizza to make me feel fat and happy and Italian.
If you're wondering about rehearsal today, I didn't mention it because I sat there all day and watched again, so nothing exciting to report. I find it fascinating that not a single person in this theater has ever heard me sing, because I haven't sung a peep in rehearsal yet, and the gentleman who hired me has since left and is running another company. But my name is on the posters, so I know I'm supposed to be here and it's not just some crazy mix up like some weird Italian version of three's company. At some point somebody will hear me sing, I'm just not sure how or when. But who cares when you've got pizza and kebobs???