|
Memories of the 2002 Opera
 This year we made our
third pilgrimage to Verona,
to join our good friend, Robert
Schweitzer, and be part of the enthusiastic 80th
Arena Festival audience.
Traveling with Robert ensures first class accommodations, the best seats for every
performance and the company of a
delightful and knowledgeable host.
 After a hearty breakfast buffet at the hotel, we toured the
city's treasured churches and historic buildings.
The performances start at dark, around 9 pm, so we decided on
an afternoon nap followed by an early dinner at one of the outdoor cafes
on Piazza Bra. From our outdoor table we watched the crowds of people taking
the daily stroll in the shadow of the ancient walls of the Arena.
Finally, we made our way to our front row seats, enjoyed a glass
of champagne and waited for the magic to begin.
 Conductor Daniel Oren,
renowned for his Arena performances, described this place and this
moment in a recent interview. "And
then finally Verona, which conquered me:
the beauty of the city, the splendor of the opera in the Arena,
the thousands of spectators who listen…It is a unique place, the most
important and intriguing place in the world for playing music in the
open air….When an opera begins, it is as if a muse were descending on
the Arena, on the artists, on the spectators.
(T)here are…parts of the opera that work magically, even
without knowing why, as in no other opera house round the world."
 As night falls, the
stage of the Arena gradually fades away and we are drawn into the drama
and tragedy of another time and place.
Suddenly, it is after midnight and the artists are taking their
bows. What an experience!
We are too keyed up to sleep so we joined Robert at
a small restaurant nearby for a late snack and lots of conversation
about the performance and the artists.
When we finally decided to call it a night, we knew that our
favorite scenes would delight us again as they replay in our dreams.
---
On our final morning in
Verona, I took an early walk on Piazza Bra.
The street and cafes were nearly empty and part of the open area
was filled with the larger than life scenery from last night's
performance. Where had the magic gone? Or had it? As I turned my gaze to the Arena, whose stones have witnessed
2000 years of history, I was sure I could hear the music and voices
of last night's spectacle and, behind them the footsteps of centuries past.
For the past is always present in the Real Italy,
.
|
