al conservatorio di napoli

Ottobre 25, 2008
Yesterday, I went to the conservatory in Naples for an appointment to sing for a coach. I work for a wonderful lady, and she has been calling people nonstop trying to get this whole thing into motion. Mario's piano teacher, Maestro Biancardi, teaches at the conservatory and Cristina has been calling him, and Maestro Biancardi was the one who got me in touch with Maesto Florio.

After speaking with Biancardi at Mario's piano lesson, I was under the impression that he was a difficult man and didn't like foreigners. So as I was walking into the building, I was preparing myself for quite the public flogging. Finding the conservatory itself wouldn't have been fun had it not been for one of my neighbors, Beppe. I ran into him on the street the day before, and offered to walk with me to the conservatory. So it was really nice not having to worry about getting lost because there is nothing that stresses me out more than being late and getting lost. As for the late thing, I have to remind myself that I'm in Italy. The people here are not like Americans. If someone says, "The meeting starts at 11am." The meeting might start at 11:30 if you're lucky. So Beppe and I got the conservatory 15 minutes early, which made me feel quite at ease because I knew I wasn't going to insult anyone by being late. But in true Italian fashion, Maestro Biancardi showed up about 5 minutes late, and took me to a hallway where I would later meet Maestro Florio. I didn't even get to meet him until about 11:30.

I was under the impression that I would sing for him and that would be it. But this is how it really went. He invited me into a room with two other singers and a pianist. He said to the other singers that I was only there to listen so right then and there I was really confused. Although I can't say I minded all the much because it gave me and opportunity to see how he works with other singers. As the coaching was going on, numerous people kept on walking in and out, which is extremely strange to me because in America, no one interrupts a coaching. In America it's like sacred time or something. I was in complete culture shock as I was witnessing this. I was offered a coffee by a fellow who wandered in. And anyone who knows me knows that I'm not a coffee drinker at all, but I figured it would have been rude to refuse. And keep in mind that this is Napolitano coffee not American coffee. I've never seen coffee that moves like molasses and is served in what looks like a shot glass, but with enough sugar and milk it tasted alright. Eventually, they finished the coaching and I was given the opportunity to sing. I hadn't been in the best voice lately due to the season so I couldn't dazzle him with one of my extremely showy arias, but I sang something that wasn't too high, but still showed something of what I can do, Nanetta's Aria from Falstaff.

Maesto Florio later said that I could come and take a class with him beginning in November! YAYYYY! And after I exchanged email addresses with people, and I had a pretty good conversation in Italian with the pianist, I still had to figure out how to get to Mario's school in time to pick him up. Luckily, the pianist and a German girl that studies at the conservatory were able to tell me how to take the public transportation to get to his school. I had to take a subway train, and then get on a "funiculare" (which is a type train that goes up and down mountains and in the case very large hills). I was very used to taking public transit having lived in Boston for two years, but this time I had to find everything only I had to ask people in Italian. Fortunately, my Italian has improved over the past month so I can mostly understand what people are saying. WHEW! I felt extremely grown up and responsible for having found the school all be myself with only a slight amount of frustration. But now, I know how to get there no problem! HIGH FIVE FOR ME! And I was only about ten minutes late to pick up Mario, which in Italian time means still on time! WOOHOOOOO!

Ci vediamo a dopo!


PACE

aiutami! i pidocchi!

It's interesting how you inherit some of the wonderful critters of childhood. I PIDOCCHI! AHHHH!!! Or what we Americans call "lice." About two weeks ago, Mario came home with a note from school about an outbreak of lice. EEEEEK! As soon as Cristina got a look at the note she uttered a stunning word of the vernacular, "Cazzo!" (which in english means "*@!#"). Soon after I read the note, I felt a little tickle tickle on my head. So I thought, "uh oh." So I had to do the shampoo, and brush my hair with the really thin-toothed comb. It was really fun!