When ‘A Night at the Opera’ Almost Wasn’t Funny

I returned to Sydney yesterday for my last day in Australia and had been looking forward to seeing Mozart’s “The Magic Flute” at Sydney’s spectacular Opera House. And “spectacular” doesn’t begin to do the place justice. It is all of that, plus magnificent and huge and breathtaking and on and on.

But tickets to the opera ain’t cheap! I bought my ticket on line two weeks ago and paid about $100 US for the single seat. I mean, how bad can a hundred dollar seat be? Answer: Pretty bad. Think nosebleed section of the first balcony … so far back that the second balcony just above obscured he surtitles, which is what they call the translations of the foreign-language words being sung that appear on a long, narrow screen just above the proscenium. (The photo below gives you a good idea what you get for 100 bucks!)

I fretted about that for a bit, then decided to bite the bullet for this one-and-only time in this place. Another hundred bucks later, I’m seated in the first row of that same balcony with a good view of the stage and an excellent look at the surtitles.

The performance was outstanding; the singing in German – Thank God for surtitles! – the spoken lines in English, a bit startling at first since most of the performers were Australian and the Aussie accent came through loud and clear.

The audience loved it and I must say I thoroughly enjoyed the evening … right up to the point that I discovered it was now pouring rain outside. I said that this place is huge, but had no idea how big until I realized that, in addition to the opera, this same evening also featured a concert by Roberta Flack and a huge wedding. Literally thousands of people were heading for the various exits and most of us were looking for a cab. I had no umbrella and no raincoat, of course, and while I contemplating this disaster, the rain intensified and the wind picked up, blowing water in sheets erratically in every direction.

The line for cabs stretched out of sight with most people huddled under umbrellas. The evening was turning into an unmitigated disaster when an angel appeared. “Here,” said a voice behind me, “get under my umbrella.”

The angel was an attractive woman in her mid-30s standing behind me and holding out a wonderfully large umbrella. The word grateful cannot possibly describe that moment.

We chatted for a few minutes while – incredibly – both the wind and the rain grew stronger to the point, umbrella notwithstanding, we were both getting wet. “Look,” she said, “let’s get out of this rain, find a pub (there was an up-scale bar around the corner) and then share a cab if we ever find one.”

This delightful lady turned out to be a Sydney native, who has travelled extensively throughout the world. In fact, she and her boyfriend – in the UK at the moment – traveled from Sydney to Adelaide on the Indian Pacific exactly one week before I rode that same train! We spent the next 90 minutes chatting about train travel and Prague and Indonesia and Hawaii and Marisa Tomei and Barack Obama and her view that things about America are mostly right.

Just before 1:00 a.m., we emerged onto the street to find the rain had stopped and a vacant taxi was waiting at the curb. Ten minutes later, I hopped out at my hotel and she headed home to one of the Sydney suburbs, ending an evening which had been headed for disaster, but turned into one of those delightful experiences that seem to occur when you travel alone.

This morning there is no rain and I will shortly head for the National Maritime Museum, which I can see from my hotel room. From there it’s more casual sightseeing on foot, then to the airport for the Hawaiian Airlines flight to Honolulu and the short hop back to Maui. I’m ready to get home.

Photos from this trip and a more organized chronology to follow shortly thereafter.