Rene Pape and the Bronx Zoo too...

I flew to NYC on Thursday 23 APR 09 for Das Rheingold at the Met. I took the Broadway 104 bus down from 95th Street where I found myself to have achieved elderly status: 2 kind folks on a crowded Manhattan bus offered me their seat :~). I found the opera a little plodding (Maestro Levine was ill, perhaps that was why) and the frog aka Alberich a highlight. Rene Pape played Fasolt, one of the giants, and was in wonderful voice. When he sang about his love for Freia, his emotion and passion carried right up to the balcony. Others have conjectured about Pape's recent hiatus/illness, I'll posit that perhaps he quit smoking? When I quit, I gained an octave or so and discovered what I think they call falsetto. I tried the new restaurant at65 in the front of Alice Tully Hall for dinner. It was just right for price and ambiance for someone looking for a reasonable and unpretentious place around Lincoln Center. Unfortunately the food was very average and the service abysmal. The pretty young waitperson must have concurred, charging me only for my dessert. Perhaps they'll get the kinks out in time.



On Friday, I found my way to Madison Avenue via the 96th Street crosstown bus. I walked up to about 99th for the Express BxM11 bus to the Bronx Zoo. I had my 2.50 in quarters all set, but it's 5.00 before 10 even for Seniors, so I blew all my quarters on the trip up and scrounged for more while I was at the zoo. Five dollars for an express ride to Bronx from Manhattan is a bargain though. I enjoyed the zoo - my first trip there. The grounds and buildings are beautiful. Daffodils were in bloom, and forsythia, and the trees were just beginning their frothy greening. The animals are in natural settings and it's oftentimes difficult to make them out. The Creatures of the Night exhibit was one of the best - all the bats you might ever hope to see in the darkened exhibit. I pretty well did the whole zoo. On foot. After bussing back to Manhattan, I went to the Pain Quotidian at Broadway and 91st for an excellent vegetable quiche and glass of sparkling raspberry (rhubarb?) tea which was delicious. I wandered back to the Hotel Newton and crawled into bed around 9 PM. I did not wake or dream till 6 AM.





On Saturday, I awoke and went down to the reliable Key West diner for pancakes and bacon. After, I took the 96th Street crosstown bus to Fifth Avenue and the M1 or so down to 88th for the Met Museum. I was still exhausted from the zoo, so I just wandered around a bit, looked at the ancient artifacts on the first floor. There is a breathtaking small bronze of an Arabian dancer - at least she looked Arabian in all her veils. I perused the giftshop and added to my mug collection. I went back to my room and rested, showered, dressed, rode the 104 bus down to 57th Street and walked over to Carnegie Hall. I planned to hit the Carnegie Deli, but it was crowded (not surprisingly) and they stuck my by the kitchen door, so I left and walked over to whatever is cattycorner to Carnegie Hall, something Euro I believe, and had great quiche and tea but a horrible restroom! Then I went to Carnegie Hall where I discovered the elevator (thank God) and rode up to the Dress Circle for a so so seat to hear Herr Pape's leider recital.



Pape amazes me. He's like a YoYo Ma or Jacqueline Dupree with the extraordinary control he has over his voice. But rather than carrying around a prized cello, he carries his own Stradivarius within. I'm blessed/cursed with a pretty good ear and I swear the man hit every note of every song with breathtaking precision - well ok, a couple just a hair sharp but...
Being new to voice groupiness, I was unfamiliar with his songs for the evening. It goes without saying that they were all beautiful, and they generously provided us with English translations of all the lyrics, which, while beautiful, certainly dwell among the more morose of poetic expressions. Must be the bass repertoire. I was happily surprised with the extraordinary virtuosity of Brian Seger at the piano. The recital ended far too early, and after much (but not tumultuous) applause from a respectably full (but not SRO) house, we were rewarded with 2 (I thought 3 but other reviews say 2) encores,the last of which was -- Some Enchanted Evening. On which note, Rene sent us home, humming AND enchanted.

On the way home to the Hotel Newton via the 104 bus, I absently read the inserts in the recital program. Rats! Roaches! The man was providing autographs and a Meet and Greet after the recital and - I missed it!!!!


KICK SELF IN BUTT...I MISSED IT!

Endings

Monty Python Brave of Heart Rest in Peace April 8 2009

The first time I saw Monty was at my dead sister's house. I saw a brave and beautiful long haired cat climb the stairs and look at me with huge eyes the color of a summer sky. I brought a bowl of dry kibble and a bowl of canned cat food. I sat on a porch chair and listened to the wind in the pines and watched Monty eat everything, then leave. This dance of ours went on for several weeks. Finally on Christmas Day 2007 I left her food in a cat carrier and when she entered to eat, closed the door. And brought her to my house.

The 16 months since have been fraught with frustration, irritation, fear, and compromise on the part of dear Monty, me, my male cat who Monty hated, and my dog, who Monty loved. We all adjusted as best we could, most especially perhaps Tony, my male cat, who was relegated to the front porch in thunderstorms and 30 degree temperatures.

Only a psychiatrist could puzzle out why I decided on April 8 to have Monty put down. I don't think she was sick although she may have had a UTI -- she had peed or sprayed in the laundry room which was sort of the last straw in my adjusting to her quirks. When I finally decided, after I asked God for guidance on the 7th and decided on the 8th, action was swift. I was afraid I'd chicken out. When I pulled her from under the bedspread where she was 'hiding' and napping, I put her in the carrier. In previous trips to the vet, she has objected ferociously, even getting the door open on one occasion. But this time, she just sat and looked at me with her big blue eyes. Perhaps she was resigned, perhaps she just thought it was a vet visit, perhaps she was in shock, perhaps she was happy to be going, I don't know.

I've put many pets down, but Monty is the first I've put down for behavioral issues. The fact that she was my sister's cat and kept that flame alive conflicted me always. But Tony, my male cat, was fighting every cat in town for his dinner, I was dealing with Monty's spraying issue, and Monty had become more and more withdrawn, frankly.

Was it the right decision? Only God knows. I miss her terribly. She slept in my bed. She got in my lap after supper. Did I mention her blue eyes, which were the last thing I saw as Doc White took her away. But she also attacked with claws unprovoked, spent days hiding under blankets, hissed at Tony the male cat, and generally made life dysfunctional for the rest of us.

Art Garfunkel used to sing a song with these lines:

Endings always come at last,
Endings always come too fast,
They come too fast,
And they pass too slow,
I love you
And that's all I know.

Huffington Post 4/7/09 - The President Visits Iraq