G&A: Day Five, Weds Aug 13

WEDS AUG 13

We saw that the NH Hotel nearby had a restaurant with a breakfast buffet so we went there. We were greeted by a very cute middle aged woman who gave us the full tour, she even offered to help us at the tea station if we needed help (Scott thought maybe some clueless Americans had made a mess on a previous visit). The buffet was lavish: eggs, sausages, bacon, yogurt, fruit, vegetables, rolls, juice, coffee, rolls, pastries.

I decided to be bold and get a made-to-order omelet - - this required boldness because I decided to order in German. I realized I could order only the things I knew how to say: tomato, mushrooms, and cheese. What more do you need? The woman who made it was a genius at multitasking. She squirted some oil on the skillet and started to sauté the tomatoes and mushrooms. She ladeled some eggs in the corner and got those cooking. Then she removed the previously unnoticed saucepan of white sausages from the electric burner in the corner, left her station, and added those sausages to the serve-yourself station just outside. And of course by the time she got back it was time to throw the ingredients together. It was a delicious omelet and I enjoyed watching the process.

Back to the hotel. We got our stuff together, packed our bags, checked out of the hotel, and made the ten-minute walk to the train station. Our train was on the track waiting for us so we found our seats and sat down. We were at a table for four with two seats on each side facing the table. Scott and I were on the aisle and two cute teenage girls were at the window. They talked with each other quietly and giggled.

The trip was about two hours. We took an Uber to the hotel, the Numa Vogelweider, which was head and shoulders better than our previous two hotels (which were completely adequate). It was seriously up to date, tastefully decorated, and the shower! Maybe my favorite shower ever, I wish I had taken a picture. The shower head was about a foot above my head, directly overhead (rather than from an angle), and the temperature controlwais separate from the on/off control, so the next time you turn it on and it’s still set at the same temperature you had used the last time. A dream.

We had a quick lunch at a biergarten across the street. We split a pastrami sandwich and each had a rhubarb soda. I'm telling you, forget Bayreuth, the rhubarb beverages were the revelation of this trip.

They had chickens wandering around at this joint. They were cute but I didn't like them getting too close.

We unpacked, took a little nap, changed into our opera clothes, and took an Uber to the House For Mozart. I was pleased to see that we could take a bus for free with our festival tickets but neither of us was able to figure out what bus would take us from the hotel to the festival grounds, so forget that sauce. We checked out the gift shop and walked around the neighborhood. We walked into the Kollegienkirche, a stunning baroque church. It was cool in there and after a few minutes there was a bench available where we could sit down. That felt good.

We wandered around the shopping area looking for a place to eat. We landed on a cute little place on one of the cut-through alleys. We split an order of white sausages (which of course came with mustard and a pretzel) and a tomato and grilled cheese sandwich, also a large bottle of water and a Coke Zero for me. It was all delicious.

And a little gelato to cap things off. Hey, we're on vacation.

Back to the House For Mozart. Scott went back to the gift shop to buy a post card. I hung out by a large floral arrangement near the entrance to the theater, that seemed to be a suitable place for me. I wasn’t there five minutes when I was approached by a guy probably about 70 years old. He said a whole lot in German, to which I replied, in German, I’m sorry, I don’t speak any German. He said:

HUSBAND: Perhaps you speak English?

ME: Yes, I do speak English.

HUSBAND: Would you be so kind as to take a picture of myself, my wife, and my mother?

ME: I would be very happy to do that.

HUSBAND: As you can see they look very lovely.

ME: Yes, you do look lovely.

MOTHER: You are very kind. You also look very nice.

ME: Thank you. This is my first time in Salzburg.

WIFE: Oh wonderful. Where are you from?

ME: I’m from New York.

WIFE: Welcome to Salzburg.

The man handed me his phone and I took a couple of pictures of them in front of the large floral arrangement. I was tempted to take a picture of them for myself but that felt a little invasive. I gave him his phone back, he was pleased with the picture, we exchanged a few more pleasantries, and the mother said, “I hope you enjoy the opera and the rest of your time in Salzburg.”

Scott took a picture of me:

The House for Mozart was a darling small auditorium. And the intermission hall was gorgeous.

*Hotel Metamorphosis* was our first Salzburg opera, a mashup of excerpts from Vivaldi operas and spoken text from Ovid’s *Metamorphosis.*

It was directed by Barrie Kosky with Les Musiciens du Prince Monaco conducted by Gianluca Capuano. Clearly I need to listen to more Vivaldi because it knocked me out. The overture had some seriously strange harmonies, that was a nice surprise.

The set was an elegant, slightly chilly upscale hotel room, a bed in the center, chairs on the right, desk on the left, bathroom in the back.

Angela Winkler was the narrator, reciting stories by Ovid in German (thankfully translated into English in the supertitles). The orchestra played the intro to the first aria and Cecilia Bartoli made an entrance that was a low-key variation on a star entrance. The door to the hotel room slowly swung open, of its own accord, and she was standing in the doorway. The lighting was a little dim so it wasn’t 100% clear that it was her but she’s pretty distinctive. She started singing and there was no doubt at all.

Bartoli is 59, she was a big star in the US in the 90s. Neither of us had heard her live and whoa Nelly what a voice, what a singer, out of this world. Scott directed me to an article in The New York Times which explained why she hasn’t sung in the US since 1998 - - she doesn’t like to fly. She hinted in the article that she might come back to the US sometime soon. Can you imagine being on an ocean liner with La Bartoli? BTW this show would travel very easily to BAM or San Francisco Opera or the Lyric Opera of Chicago or wherever. Please, Signora Bartoli, ritorna!

The first scene was not connected to any particular Ovid story, it had Bartoli and Winkler playing tender, middle-aged lovers. The scene ended with Bartoli laying down in the bed and slowly, at first imperceptibly, being swallowed into the bed.

Winkler told the story of Pygmalion and the story was dramatized using Vivaldi excerpts. This is the way it worked for the whole show - - the Ovid story told by Winkler (speaking with no music) then a dramatization of the story in which the text was sort of germane but not exactly on the nose. More abstract and creative than that.

The singer playing Pygmalion was the only one besides Bartoli I had heard of, counter tenor Philippe Jaroussky. I was honestly not so taken with him, his voice sounded a little thin and effortful to me. He wasn’t bad but he didn’t rise up to the level of the other three amazing singers in the cast.

Bartoli was back playing Arachne in the next scene, wearing a stunning silk ensemble, a matching tunic, pants, and turban. Some enterprising Salzburg boutique could display a knockoff in their window and it would fly off the shelves. At least I think it would.

Varduhi Abrahamyan played Minerva in this scene. Gorgeous voice but her music didn’t quite live in the sweet spot of her voice, she couldn’t always project in her low voice.

The final story of Act One was Myrrh. Like many of the Ovid stories, this was one I didn’t know. Myrrh was a young woman who was shamefully attracted to her father. She confessed this to her maid and her maid set them up on a date in the dark so he wouldn’t know who she was. They were both horrified when they realized and she turned into a tree. Myrrh was played by mezzo Lea Desandre, who was sensational. Gorgeous voice, beautiful feeling for the style, nearly as good as Bartoli. The most interesting element of this scene was that a story about incest can still be shocking in this day and age. It was staged in a way that you could feel the shame of Myrrh. The music did a lot to convey that.

I need to mention the dancers. The choreography was by Otto Pichler - - ten dancers, five men and five women, all of them fabulous. The dancing added so much to the success of the evening. The choreography was inventive, witty, highly expressive, with an occasional winking anachronism. The party that started Act Two had the dancers briefly doing The Charleston. This Myrrh scene had a show-stopping sequence for four of the male dancers, playing Myrrh’s suitors.

Act Two started with the chorus and dancers in full *Satirycon* drag, amusing. This led to Jaroussky playing Narcissus. The image of Narcissus falling in love with his reflection was conveyed by using two dark-haired male dancers with a similar build, both wearing tidy whities, dancing in a way that illustrated the reflection.

This led to a scene about Juno and Echo, done by Abrahamyan and Desandre. They found a couple of Vivaldi pieces that had an echo built in, that was sort of wondrous.

The final story was Orfeo and Eurydice, with Winkler (the narrator) playing Orfeo and Bartoli playing Eurydice. Holy crap, what sublime singing, knocked me on my ass.

Scott and I both felt like *Hotel Metamorphosis* was not only the best opera we saw on this trip but one of the best shows we had ever seen.

Next day...