Day 3

Today was my first day of work. My command center was set up on my kitchen island. With my work laptop, an extra monitor, my personal laptop and internet phone, I was all set to go. Work, as it often does, dragged on. With the time difference, I do have the luxury of starting at 10am, but that also means that I'm done at around 7pm. For the purposes of this visit, I would work west coast hours, but that might need to change if this becomes permanent.

For the evening's activities, I planned for a night at the Lyric Opera of Chicago. As much as I am a fan of the arts, opera has never really been my cup of tea. However, recently over the summer, I did see a performance of a Puccini opera at the Hollywood Bowl that wasn't horrible. Granted, it wasn't a staged production, but the music was compelling enough to warrant giving opera another try. When I was planning my visit, I found I had two choices of programs - one was the more serious production - Tales of Hoffman. It is a staggering 3 hours long... but it received good reviews and its staging looked fantastic. The second production was a light comedy for which I cannot even recall the name. I felt that in order to get the true "Opera" experience and to really give it a shot, I would go for the serious Tales of Hoffman. Unfortunately, the only performance that would fit into my schedule was for a Monday performance. Three hours on a Monday night at the opera??? I know, I was doubting the choice also.

During my previous visit, I was able to enjoy the Chicago Architecture Boat Tour and we passed the Opera building. It's a gorgeous Art Deco building and I was sure the interior would be just as impressive. At the very least, I would get to see the building, right?

The next night, I was planning on going to a Blackhawks hockey game (more details in tomorrow's post), and my acquaintance Bill had told me that he would lend me his Blackhawks jersey. I made arrangements to conveniently go pick it up tonight so that I would have a great excuse to duck out of the opera early. I mean, really? 3 full hours? I didn't think I would last.

I took a cab to the Opera House and with the construction going on and my natural tardiness, I walked in just as they were about to start. As the lights went down, I looked at the program quickly.... TWO intermissions. Wow. Okay... I would stay until the second intermission and then leave. Perfect. To my left sat a younger gay couple that wanted nothing to do with me or anyone around us. To my right sat two older ladies that didn't seem to want to chat either. That's okay... I hunkered down for the show.

Yeah.... Opera is still not my cup of tea. This opera was about a man - Hoffman that was unlucky in love. Quite frankly, it was just kinda boring. There were supertitles projected over the screen, so I was able to follow the story, but my... that didn't help. There is no spoken dialog. Every word is sung. But you know... maybe I'm just spoiled with all the musical theater that I see. Les Miserables is all sung, but it's engaging all the way through. Opera has a lot of people just standing around singing. Prior to the first intermission, we were given the background of Hoffman and taken through an act where he fell in love with this seemingly perfect woman that turned out to be a robot. Yes, it wasn't that exciting for me either. The woman performer was quite talented and her singing was quite good, but it didn't save the production for me. Intermission came and I ducked out for the restroom, which is located in the basement. I maneuvered through the crowds and made my way to the line that wrapped around the entire room. Along the way, I did admire the beautiful art deco chandeliers. They really were quite magnificent and if I were really into art deco, I would have wanted to copy them.

Surprisingly, the line for the restroom moved quickly with the help of many attendants that moved the crowd along. As I went back my seat, I noticed the gay couple was also gone. In order not to have the ladies get up twice, I hung back. I noticed the wall sconces... they were quite lovely. As the couple arrived, I took my seat and the ladies opened up to me and asked me what I thought of the production. Now, this is where I'm socially retarded. Normal people would say that they were enjoying themselves. I was honest and told them that I found it to be a bit tedious. Apparently, I was speaking to two ladies that didn't afford themselves many luxuries beyond attending the opera so they were taken aback a bit. We exchanged pleasantries and thankfully the production started up again.

I really tried to enjoy myself. The second act was about a songstress whose had a weak heart and would die if she sang. Apparently Hoffman was all that and inspired her to sing and she died. But somewhere in there, I think the story went that her father knew that she would die if she sang but never told her. How messed up is that? I had lost interest and hoped that the singing would keep me at least partially entertained, but it was just boring. The second intermission finally came around and I bolted for the door. I just needed to get into a cab and go to Bill's house to pick up the jersey. As I stood in line for a cab, however, I switched my phone back on and got a text from Bill. He was feeling ill and went to bed early. He would try to bring the jersey to me tomorrow at my place. Well, shoot... I left the opera early to meet him... and there were no ins and outs.... not that I felt I was missing anything... but still. With no deadline, I decided to walk home... it was a nice night and I had a general idea of where I was headed. It was late, but I was thinking it would be okay for me to walk alone, so I headed off.

The walk from the Opera House to my place took me straight through the middle of downtown. It was pretty empty and I made sure to be aware of my surroundings and the people that were around. For the most part, it was pretty empty. I liked the quiet of the streets and liked knowing that during the day, these streets were bustling with activity. I walked by a building with a big open plaza in front of it. In the plaza was a massive red sculpture that was obviously a Picasso work. I would later find that this was Daley Plaza... a very popular spot for gatherings and activities. It was about a mile back to my place and it was just before 11 that I got home. Along the way, I realized I was kind of hungry, but didn't notice any places to eat. Fortunately, across the street from my building is the Fairmont Hotel. I knew there would be a restaurant there and was hoping that I would be able to grab a bite.

The regular restaurant was closed but the sushi bar would still serve me. I was reluctant - sushi and Chicago aren't really two things that go hand in hand. But I had no choice. I sat and was kinda sad to be alone. Oh well. I order some food and it wasn't long until a lady who had been walking by decided to sit down next to me after discovering that sushi was her only option also. She was obviously there often as she knew the sushi chef and they chatted away. Eventually, we exchanged greetings and before I knew it, I was telling her my whole story. Her name was Calo. She was an older (late 40's?) Filipina lady. She was a nurse and massage therapist and had just come from church choir practice. She loves Chicago and had been there for about 15 years since being accepted to the Art Institute to study. She has a huge home in Ohio but spends most of her time in a tiny apartment next door to the Fairmont. Calo's warmth was everything that I needed to ward off any lonliness that I was feeling. She encouraged me to come to Chicago and take it in for all it had to offer. She warned of the brutal winters, but put a positive spin on it by telling me that as women, we could have fun with the layering of clothes and delicious cashmere. She told me no matter what that I would have a friend in Chicago in her. Thinking of her smile still warms my soul.

As the evening went on... we shared stories and a gentleman came to sit next to us and eat and drink sake. He interupted us to ask if we would like to have some of his sake, as he ordered too much. He was a French Canadian - from Montreal and his name was Pierre. He was a much older gentleman and he said he was staying at the hotel on business. He also agreed that Chicago is a magnificent city. We all chatted for a bit and wound up the evening just before 1:00. It was a nice way to end what I thought was going to be a wasted evening.....