‘Here, over here Millie. Millie. MILLIE!’
I can hear my husband but I can’t see him. He is shouting. Ah, there he is. He is standing up and waving furiously to me, showing me where our seats are.
Tonight is a bucket list evening for us – we are holidaying in Europe and in Verona to see an opera at The Arena di Verona. Neither of us know much about opera but we wanted to see a show in this magnificent, Roman amphitheatre and the dates aligned! Serendipity!
Even better, the opera is ‘Turandot.’ Mean nothing? It didn’t mean anything to us either until we realised that the famous song – ‘Aria’ in Opera language – ‘Nessun Dorma’ is in ‘Turandot.’ Double down on the serendipity!
Sitting for hours in a Roman arena on hard, stone benches without backrests is rather uncomfortable but we paid EUR3 each for a prettily-decorated piece of foam to cushion our tushies. We are too excited to be too uncomfortable anyway.
The space between the rows of benches is narrow so we shrink when someone wants to pass us to grab a drink or take a toilet break. Luckily, the patrons mostly stay put once the opera begins.
Each opera is only performed a few times during the season so there are camera crews recording the performance and the crowd. I wonder if we will be on TV?
It is a balmy, Summer’s night. The crowd and the palpable excitement builds.
We are in the cheap seats on the sides of the Arena but those in the more expensive seats on the ground (actual, padded seats with backrests) are dressed to the nines. Men wearing smart tuxedos and women showcasing floor-length evening gowns and stilettos. I silently wonder how the women walked here in heels given the smooth, shiny stone paths and uneven cobblestones surrounding the Arena.
Finally, as darkness falls at 9.30pm, the performance starts. Rows and rows of performers flood the stage, voices soar and sets magically move. We sit, enraptured and entranced.
The opera is punctuated by thunderous applause as singer after singer gives the performance of their life.
We hear the magnificent ‘Nessun Dorma’ and the tenor takes several bows, beaming with delight. Performing here in this ancient amphitheatre must be thrilling!
We don’t want the opera to end but it is nearly midnight. We are weary after a day of sightseeing in the heat and hours of sitting on stone benches.
The entire cast (hundreds of performers) gathers on the stage for the last song. The sound of their combined voices grows louder and louder. If the Arena had a roof, I feel like the crescendo would blow the roof off!
We clap and clap and clap. Many rise to offer a standing ovation. (We are secretly glad to stand so as to ease our stiff bones!)
‘Bravo!’ proclaims the 15,000 strong audience. ‘Bravo!’
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