On ballet

Mostly a relaxing day today. Lots of work, no coffee, and a nap. We did run out for a quick lunch at Chelsea Piers. It was standard brewpub fare and it was mostly forgetable, save for the great view out to the Hudson River. On a Wednesday afternoon it's not a hopping place -- only a few other quiet tourists which only made the place seem larger and more empty. This is one of the least New York-feeling places we've been, but I could see the attraction if you wanted to take a break from the city and briefly return to your home of Dallas, or Denver, or Wichita, or wherever. I still like brewpubs, but for whatever reason they seem to be turning into the latest Starbucks -- unimaginitive carbon-copies slowly wringing all the life out of a good idea.

Unable to get motivated to do much during the day today (probably from exhaustion) we made firm plans to go see a ballet at the Lincoln Center. I've never been to the ballet (I haven't even see the Nutcracker!) so this was going to be a new experience for me. The Lincoln Center is a spectacular place -- a large square with a fountain in the center of three massive, but elegant, concert halls. The centerpiece is the opera house, which we got to tour last week. On either side are similarly magnificent spaces, one for dance and the other is reserved for concerts. Each space has giant windows that stretch from the street all the way to the upper levels so all the inside activity is viewable from the fountain. As night falls and the halls illuminate from within, it is truely a sight to see.

We arrived early and enjoyed the scene of well-dressed people scurrying to the various performances. It was finally time for our performance so we wandered inside and casually enjoyed the decorations on the long hike to the cheap seats. I was hoping for another hook-up from the ticket guy, but I knew that our chances were shot once we arrived and he never looked up from the computer. We sat on the 4th level on the side, but the space inside is relatively cozy and there's likely not a bad seat in the house.

Not knowing what I was in for, I anxiously waited for the curtain to rise . . . and my worst fears suddenly seemed to be coming true. The stage was filled with oddly dressed people moving around in very aggressive and rigid ways. I immediately thought that I was seeing the movie Stargate (which is *not* a very good movie) as intrepreted through dance. I fidgeted in my seat for the next 25 minutes, but luckily we'd selected a grouping of ballet shorts. I knew if I made it through this I would likely be rewarded. And I was.

The next performance was really neat, sort of a spanish-pirate theme with incredibly athletic movements. Unlike the first performance (which was an ensemble), this was simply two dancers moving about the stage in perfect harmony with the music. I'm still having a hard time comprehending the jumps as each one had to cover at least 15 feet (in rapid succesion and perfectly timed). The third performance was my favorite and what I'd imagine is a classical ballet performance. This was set to a solo violin, which always creates an intense mood for me. I found my hands and shoulders aching from sharing my sincere appreciation at the end of the performance.

This brings up something I've been wondering about . . . what's up with all the clapping at these things? I thought the Broadway-style three curtain calls was the epitome of over-the-top performer indulgence, but both the opera and ballet put this to shame. At the end of a number there is a lot of clapping (and shouts of "Bravo" at the opera), followed by a general curtain call, followed by a slick little pull back out of the closed curtain so each performer can step out in turn, followed by the group, followed by the conductor, followed again by the group, and finally the lead performers again. If you're lucky (which we usually are) you get the whole group again. Keep in mind some numbers are only about 10 minutes long, followed by what seems 15 minutes of clapping. I really need to find a profession with similar accolades.

The last performance was probably my least favorite, which is hard to believe given the Stargate opening. It was all set to Gershwin-type music, which I can usually grit my teeth through at a Broadway performance because I know it's going to end soon. No respite here. This was the longest number and I felt myself watching the crowd, deeply studying the decorations, and accidentally breaking my shoelace during one of the most elaborate retying rituals I've ever gone through. You could dismiss this as my uncultured jadedness, but Laurie admitted after the show she caught a good glimpse of the trumpet player snoozing before he was poked back into conciousness by the laughing trombonist.

So, we were 2 for 4 at the ballet and overall I had a good time. I'd certainly go back, but I would definitely do a little research into the style of performance that I was going to see. Avant-garde and "musical fusion" ballet can keep to itself as far as my underdeveloped appreciation is concerned, but elegant and delicate movement set to impassioned music is a powerful and moving experience well-worth seeking out.

We left the Lincoln Center with plans to get a drink at Tao -- home of the famous (well sort-of famous) big Budda. The walk wound up being quite an excursion across town and by the time we reached Tao we were both winding down. Regardless we headed in for a look. Tao is neatly decorated place and doesn't miss a beat on covering its theme (except for the techno music). All of the waitstaff is dressed in elaborate silk asian patterns and the walls are adorned with paper lamps and the occasional fountain. The place was packed and the bar was comparatively small in relation to the large restaurant. Unwilling to fight the crowd to get to the bar we looked around for a few minutes and decided to head back out. There aren't a lot of choices of obvious things to do in Midtown (even at 11:00 pm) so we decided to come back downtown to where the riff-raff hang out.

Coming out of the Subway we were rewarded with the familar stench, trash, and occasional cheerful bum of what has become home. Recharged, we had big plans to have a nightcap in the neighborhood. Returning to our apartment to search for a new place proved to be a bad idea as we found a few interesting suggestions, but the comfort of our apartment and much needed sleep quickly overtook us.