Les gens qui ne rient jamais ne sont pas des gens sérieux

Be who you are and say what you mean, those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind

Monday, March 13, 2006

glandular fever and opera

A sore throat, pounding head, bulging glands and temperature of 39 degrees later, I'm still here. Urgh, I was convinced I was having a glandular fever relapse and felt totally bleugh but after surviving some medieval Polish treatments (feet in boiling water, spyritus on glands) as well as some more welcome attention (tea with lemon and honey, hot water bottles) I am well on the road to recovery.

One paragraph of self-pity is more than enough and the point of this post is to describe my Saturday night which was spent, not in a pub with beer (well, ok, a bit was) but mainly either in the opera or in the Belgian Embassy... ooh I'm cultured innit?

My lovely friend Soline (hi So!) who worked and sang with me in Brussels was here with a few (read 7) friends for a long weekend. We joined them for Tchaikovsky's Queen of Spades on the Saturday night (no, we hadn't heard of it either, and our group passed the notes of the storyline from person to person throughout as the singing was in Russian and the subtitles were in Polish). It was very long but surprisingly good. The set and costumes were incredible and there were some beautiful bits of music, especially when there were several voices singing together (the solo stuff is less exciting and can drag on a bit unless they are going very high, or very low, or doing something interesting at the same time, like killing themselves or each other...)

Now, after the opera, we went round to Soline's parents' place. Soline's Dad happens to be the Belgian Ambassador and their 'place' is more commonly referred to as the Belgian Embassy, which rather ingeniously incorporates the Residence in the same humungous building with columns and sweeping staircases. It was rather nice. We ate in a dining room which can easily seat 40 people. We talked in hushed tones under the watchful eyes of the Belgian Royal couple's portraits on the wall. We sneaked peeks into lavishly decorated salons and sitting rooms.

When Marek and I left we couldn't help but giggle a little bit. We are oh so sophisti-kay.

It wasn't that late, despite the amount of singing and sumptuousness of the dinner, so we went into a pub and ordered a couple of beers to keep us company while going over the best bits of the evening. Champagne would have fitted better I suppose but we were all cultured out by then.

I might develop a taste for it... expect future posts about caviar and the development of Marek's polo playing.

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Blogger Warsaw Crow said...

Nothing suppresses illness like a soirée of high culture. I hope you're 100% again soon.

5:22 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

spyritus on your glands? what's that :) Hope you haven't relapsed again but if you do, maybe this link will help -

11:53 pm  

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