Tosca, or why jealousy always ends in death?

Highly considering melding my multifaceted film and fashion knowledge into this blog and somehow, whether by force or by... wait who am I kidding? By force, taking the interweb by storm!

However, since these plans are sadly still in the formative stages, I will return to last nights excitement. The Opera. So I, being a three day walking zombie from bronchitis island, am finally awake at 3pm yesterday afternoon. I pout, pace and contemplate schemes of how to sneak into our Czech classes trip to the State Opera without looking like I've been playing hooky all week. Unfortunately, I did not bring my fake mustache set, nor my grappling hook, so any scheme that could possibly work is out of the question. I poll my gang, the answer is go. Screw it. After all, I do have the doctors note and under eye circles to prove my illness. So I go, I get dressed up, throw on my once worn theory dress (the blue and black stretchy one I got a citation in for hurling a bottle of Pom off the bridge on the way to the mods.) throw on my kicky boots, use a blow dryer for the first time since new years and head into town.

It takes forevvvverrr to find the Stani Opera house, why? Because it is dark and I am directionally disabled and alone. Luckily I stumble upon two equally lost CIEE girls who join me in my quest for culture. Finally we find the place. (It really shouldn't have been hard considering the search lights and marble columns.) So we get in and...WHAT?! Where they hell did you get tickets? They handed them out today? In CLASS?!

Defeated and mildly depressed I crumple to the floor. "All dressed up and no where to the go" to the extreme. The woman taking the tickets frowns. "Here," she says, handing me an extra ticket, "some of the boxes are empty," she winks and I throw her a thousand Dekujus (thank yous) before running up the stairs to what awaits me; the best seat in the house. HAH. Take that healthy people!

And so the Opera was wonderful, really beautiful building, and an amazing performance. The set was a bit sparse, but then again I don't really have many operas to compare it to. The most exciting part of it was translating the Italian in my head and laughing when they messed up the subtitles. All in all it was a lovely time, I'm really glad I went, even though everyone dies in the end. (tres depressing)

Post-opera about forty of us decided to get food. Luckily, forty quickly turned into eight and the gang and I, plus some new friends, went out for some garlic soup and potato pancakes. Unfortunately, the croûtons in my soup tasted like mothballs. Thank god I wasn't expecting much. The highpoint of the meal was getting to know some new kids, I'm finding a lot of really great people out here.

Aside from that the atmosphere let much to be desired as the couple to our left was smoking like a chimney and the couple behind us seemed to drunk to remember where they were and decided to act out the love scene in Titanic.

Anyhow, as soon as dinner was through I decided to call it a night. After all, classes start on Monday and I can't very well afford to miss anymore school.

Responsibly yours,
MC