E is for Excursions (new one included)

E is for Excursions

Ciao regazzi, come stai?

I find myself yet again in front of the laptop, fingers happily tapping away at the keyboard, thinking that if I put my mind to it I could probably take over the world but never really finding enough time to do it… So instead I will go over excursions and everything to do with them. Now obviously, if you are fans of this blog-thingy, then you will know that I have written up in great detail the places we go to (see previous entries), but what this will cover will be how I sell them, what happens on them and things like that.

Today is Saturday, it’s around 15.30, and it is the day that all of our excursions rely on - it’s the day that we sell the vast majority of them. This takes place in Welcome Meetings, something I generally enjoy doing. Well, to correct, I like doing them everywhere apart from the Ambasciatori because it is the only place I’ve not nailed yet. Today has been a fantastic day, I’ve smashed target (for the first time really, I’ve hit it, but not smashed it before). My welcome meetings in the Marco Polo and Trento/Portofino went incredibly well, however in the Ambasciatori suddenly I’m not at all funny and people look at me with faces like slapped arses. Plebeian ingrates.

There’s a write up of the final excursion below, I was going to talk about the fun and games we have with excursions, but there’s no need, just enjoy my ramblings below and stay in touch y’all.
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Ok, I had severe problems with Microsoft Word and had to leave attempting to write this up. Right now I’m in bed with the laptop truly being atop my lap, burning slightly (how hot should the battery get, exactly?). It isn’t late at night nor is it incredibly early in the morning, so what the deuce am I doing in my bed? Well, over the past three days I’d estimate that I’ve had about 7 hours sleep at most. Saturday night was a night out where I ended up looking after the not-girlfriend because she got ridiculously drunk and decided that punching me was a fun thing to do when being walked home. It probably was. Last night, however, was something altogether different and all the more incredible, I’m going to write it up now instead of sleeping because even that most basic of functions, appears to be something that I’m incapable of. As an aside apologies if these blogs have become a little bit depressing/more self-obsessed than usual, it’s just this whole girlfriend/not-girlfriend is frankly ridiculous and right now I really, really wish I was a robot.

Last night I went to see Giuseppe Verdi’s Aida in the Roman Amphitheatre in Verona because I am incredibly cool. I will write this up like the other excursions in chronological order with suitably witty asides thrown in to spice it all up.

This trip is our most expensive at €87 and I sold 20 of those this week, which is what allowed me to smash target this week, it is our first week selling the opera and that is why we (reps) got to go along. To be honest it was an easy sell because you don’t really need to say much more than “you can watch an opera in a Roman amphitheatre” to grab people’s attention. Seriously, this amphitheatre is the largest in the world that still provides entertainment, but just think what it is like to walk round it when empty (which as you may recall two months ago I did) and try and imagine what it was like 2000 years ago, but to see it with 24,000 other people in it is almost indescribable. Luckily for you, dear readers, it is not quite indescribable, so I will, well, describe it.

First however, I will do what I was meant to and start at the beginning - so I ended up being on a coach filled with my guests, which meant that I was working the whole damn time - i.e. couldn’t swear, fall asleep, cause mischief, set fire to monkeys or generally do anything fun at the beginning. It takes about two hours to get to Verona, we left Jesolo at approximately 15.30. I must confess that I was slightly worried about my memory as we approached - I remembered Verona being on a par with Florence for me in terms of beauty of the city and things in it, I remembered Verona being absolutely breath-taking, however the approach is through an industrial wasteland. It must be said that the Italians are quite wonderful though in that even their industrial wastelands are historic buildings falling apart, or at least in Verona…

It turned out I wasn’t at all wrong, Verona is fabulously beautiful, it is just built around the same system that nearly all Italians go with. This is to have a Centro Storico, which literally translate as historic centre, in which the Roman, Renaissance and Retro all reside (damned good alliteration, what what?), whilst everything outside this centre is new-build or factories - rather sensible, something allowed by the space available in Italy, as opposed to the UK where we cram everything in wherever it may fit.

The Arena is truly something to behold, do see my previous write-up of it. Even empty it brings a sense of wonderment, of the technical capability of man, and how it was possible 2000 years ago. What did it look like brand new? How many millions of people have been through its doors, how many arses have occupied the same spot mine did last night? What lives did they lead, what kind of people went to the events they had, what kind of events were they? All these questions flood my head as soon as I get near to it and my imagination goes crazy and I remember why I’ve always had a passion for history…it’s because it only exists in your head, nowhere else.

Once the group were given their instructions on meeting points myself and Janica went for a quick drink although whilst her Venetian constitution was able to take a Campari and soda, after the previous night I had to stick to a Latte Macchiato. We then had a stroll before heading to grab some pasta at Guide Rates (i.e free) before finally heading into the amphitheatre.

Here my feelings became a little bit confused because whilst I was impressed at the set that had been constructed and the fact that it was filling up with people I was a little underwhelmed. This, it turns out, was simply a result of a combination of exhaustion and impatience - we were there over an hour before the opera was due to start and I only started to get the buzz with 10 minutes before it began to open. It is impossible not to get excited as it is beginning to get dark, all you can see is people in this huge, oval, stepped theatre, the terracotta roofs of Verona visible from the top steps…the low buzz of people talking, getting ready to be entertained en masse.

The set was very impressive; the amphitheatre is an oval shape and the set took up the whole of one end of that oval. There were two enormous Egyptian needles, mini towers on the steps, pillars set up and great lighting, all most exciting.

I have never been to a proper opera before and I was a little hesitant about the idea of four hours of screeching and it was only the location that made me go. I am also incredibly ignorant and were I not given an A4 print-out of the plot synopsis wouldn’t have had a clue as to who was how, what was going on or what the devil the entire thing was about. So it was with some cautious anticipation that I parked my bottom on the stone steps of the Veronese Arena, looking down at the pit for the opera, calculating all kinds of weird technical things (Do they mic up the instruments and voices? Where are all the cables going? Will there be pyrotechnics?). At this point a woman comes out dressed as an Egyptian with a gong, starts to gently build up the volume and then gives it a colossal whack. I’m not sure if she had to study for 3 years at stage school but she did do a good job although I feel applauding her might lead to an over-inflated ego. Anyway, off she toodled, before returning a little bit later, this time giving it two thwacks (less applause this time). Hold on, says I, methinks I spot a pattern. Sure enough, just before it was all about to start, she appears a final time on the stage, really giving that gong a good going over, the volume ascending before beating it like a foster-parent from Jersey (too much?) three times. Much applause.

By now Janica has observed that I was like a small child, grinning inanely, leg jiggling, completely ready to be entertained - a blank canvas to be painted with a new experience. Just before the final gong-bashing they do the candles - in which everyone who wants one (and as it turns out is observant enough to notice where they give them out as you come in, which we weren’t) takes and lights a candle and holds it up as the opera starts and the conductor is introduced. It is clichéd but it is a magical moment as all those candles are lit in the start of twilight, instead of being 24,000 separate people you’re one big entity.

Now, if you’ve been reading attentively you’ll realise that there I was, sitting with inane grin in cautious anticipation of screechiness - damned sensible. What was not damned sensible was my penny-pinching refusal to hire a cushion for €3 as I thought it was just unnecessary. Well, as a result I do have an imprint of 2000 years of history permanently on my pert little bottom, damned fool that I am. So, back to the actual relating of the opera, there I am all nervous for the start of the thing, unsure if I’ll like if, if it’ll be too pretentious for me or I’ll end up loving it and becoming a big luvvie (as if I’m not already…).

The first act started with the orchestra alone before we meet Radames and his high priest and they do some singing. Apparently there’s quite a lot of singing in these opera things… Anyhow, the orchestra was perfect but when the voices kicked in I got goosebumps, honestly. To hear people with so much talent - and bear in mind that there were absolutely no microphones used - throwing their voices across an amphitheatre - it was something else. Then the female soloists appeared, Aida and Amneris, whose aria’s were beautiful. I don’t really count the voice as an instrument however the performances I witnessed last night have made me reassess that opinion, these people were masters of their instruments, especially the woman playing Aida, there were moments when her voice sounded so….pure.

It was a long performance, there were too many breaks (one was due to a technical problem, I think), however it was absolutely fantastic, I was so impressed that I’m going to go and watch Carmen on August 10th, I have to see another opera there. The highlight for me was the third act, Ramades’ Victory March, in which the entire side of the amphitheatre was used, with soldiers with flame-torches, knights on horseback (real horses, which really impressed me), a huge male choir with such deep and powerful voices and this real sense of jubilation.

All of this did make me think of Angelina a little, the girl I dated from the Royal Northern College of Music - I had the same feeling of being at the same time impressed and envious of such musical talent. I also noticed a massive difference between Italian conductors and any English that I have seen - an almost stereotypical flamboyance - arms flailing all over the shop, putting in more of a performance than most of the actors/singers - but hell, it worked.

We didn’t leave the amphitheatre until nearly half one in the morning and didn’t get back to resort until four, myself personally not getting home until nearly five. Exhausted I was happy that I’d been able to see this and do something that I would never have done, as with all of this summer, if I had not had the courage to take charge of my life and change it under my own terms.

I may be going through a tough time with my love-life at the moment but something that consoles me is that I’m me…the me that I have chosen and not been shaped by circumstance. I’m almost half way through my summer and I have no regrets at all. Well, maybe that they don’t do Roast Lamb here, but otherwise…


Ciao,
Monty x

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