Opera Week in San Francisco

For the last four years, Ron and I have taken a trip to San Francisco during opera season to hear three or four productions. In the course of events, we've had a number of memorable opera experiences--Juan Diego Florez in Fille du Regiment, Placido Domingo in Cyrano de Bergerac (though unfortunately Domingo was not at his best that night), and the 2011 Ring cycle, including Jay Hunter Morris singing Siegfried before he became famous in the Met production. There are times when I've liked the SFO offerings better than the versions from the Met, and in any case they feature a number of the same stars. This year the summer series included Nixon in China, Magic Flute, and Attila. I've wanted to see Nixon for a long time, ever since I caught the tail end of a film of the original Houston production on PBS. The Met did it last season, though I didn't get the chance to attend the Live in HD broadcast. I don't see how they could have bested the SFO staging, choreography, and singing. (Maybe by actually landing a mock-up of Air Force One on stage--that's something the Met would try.) All the leads were superb, but special credit should go to Hye Jung Lee as Chiang Ch'ing. In her "I Am the Wife of Mao Tse-Tung" she was the Queen of the Night on testosterone. Speaking of the Queen of the Night, I had mixed emotions about Magic Flute as designed by Jun Kaneko. Since it was being sung in English, and since the publicity emphasized stage effects and cutely costumed extras, I figured it would be Disneyfied. Well, yes, it was, and during the first act the eye candy really got in the way of Mozart. The language of the translated libretto was bizarre when it wasn't being faux-baroque. Spoken dialogue contained lots of cheesy in-jokes. The Queen of the Night was predictably campy, as one expects that in San Francisco, but she was also so archly self-conscious that she appeared to parody herself. Coloratura runs seemed a bit mechanical. The second act was much better; by that time they had run out of visual effects and decided to concentrate on music. There was one final light touch in the closing duet of Papageno and Papagena, where all their imaginary children ran on stage dressed as chicks. Because the impact was whimsical, rather than silly, I didn't mind that one at all. Still, Magic Flute is not my favorite Mozart piece, not by a long shot, and this production, clearly aimed at "fun for the whole family," did nothing to improve my opinion. The best thing one can say about Attila is that it's quintessential Verdi, complete with opening chorus and dazzling first-act close, wronged but patriotic heroine (with a father fixation, too, like Aida), and sympathetic villain, though not as charming as the Duke in Rigoletto. Just not up to the standard of the late masterpieces. Weather in San Francisco is, as usual, unpredictable. Although it's been pleasantly warm the past few days, as I write this, the summer fog is cooling everything off.

On Wednesday afternoon we went down to Fisherman's Wharf where I took this photo. We had lunch at Pompei's Grotto, tasted some interesting wines at the Winery Collective, and browsed the art show at the Cannery before going home to dress for Magic Flute. Dinner was post-performance at Jardinere--our annual gourmet treat. Today we have lunch with my sister and her husband, then catch a performance of Scottsboro Boys at ACT. Home tomorrow. It's been a crowded but entertaining week.

Feminism & Classics VI

The sixth in the series of "Feminism and Classics" conferences took place on May 24 to 27 in St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada, with Brock University hosting. The theme was "Crossing Borders, Crossing Lines," and contributors seemed to have taken "borders" and "lines" in terms of psychosexual identity, since there were not just papers but whole sessions on the intersection of gender, sexuality, and the body. In fact, I would say that transgender experience and the phenomenon of the transgressive body (hermaphrodites, eunuchs) were two dominant themes. In contrast to F&C V, there were fewer "literary" presentations; texts were not as popular this time around. There was also less unadulterated theory. Cultural studies was the methodology of choice. Kathy Gaca gave the keynote address "Ancient Warfare and the Forcible Penetration of Borders, Communities, and Boundaries." This was part of her ongoing project defining mass rape and enslavement of non-combatants as a recognized strategy of ancient warfare ("andrapodization"). She painted it as genocide, as indeed it is: her fundamental point is that it aimed at destroying cultural heritage and wiping out the group identity of a vanquished people. While the presentation was brilliant, its impact was disturbing. Throughout there was a striking lack of energy in the room; the audience listened in complete stillness and at the end simply filed out quietly. After we had time to think about her arguments, though, and distance ourselves from the emotive content, we realized what a courageous project she is undertaking. When the book comes out it will be one of the most significant studies in the field and may attract the attention of the scholarly world at large. Mary-Kay Gamel's production of Alcestis continued the tradition of dramatic readings at F&C VI. This was one of her most memorable efforts, partly because it was so well acted and partly because of the changed ending. Her Alcestis was no longer silent at the end; instead she made up her own mind (with a little audience help) and walked out on both Admetus and Death, taking the rest of the cast with her. Admetus and Pheres were left alone to reconcile. This was, I pointed out in the post-production discussion, the one false note, as the mutual fury they expressed in the agon seemed to preclude any kind of future concord. I moderated a session on "Architecture and Gender" which was pretty eclectic--five papers on topics as varied as the meaning of the program of Danaid sculptures in the portico of Apollo's temple on the Palatine and public building contributions to their native cities by female donors. Discussion was excellent, with many good comments from junior scholars and graduate students. Finally, my own presentation occurred as part of a retrospective panel on previous conferences in the series, going back to the very first meeting in Cincinnati in 1992. Many changes have happened within the field, and one of the big questions raised during the wrap-up session, urgently voiced by Barbara McManus, is whether the category of "feminism" has lost the meaning it had then, and consequently whether the kinds of papers presented now are feminist in the classic sense. That in turn should provoke some discussion at Feminism & Classics VII--scheduled for 2016, probably at an institution in the southeast part of the United States. It was the height of spring on the Brock campus, with weather already a bit hot (for Canada, I should say) and temperatures in the 80s. The campus contained many idyllic spots, particularly the Pond Inlet outside the auditorium where Alcestis was presented.

Inviting walking and jogging opportunities. I went out to dinner at local restaurants with a number of good friends, including Bonnie MacLaughlin and Ann Suter. The banquet, held at a local winery, was not as successful as some others--facilities were rather noisy and the staff seemed overwhelmed. As always, though, I got to chat with several people I hadn't seen for some time. I came home feeling that CAMWS and APA are pretty much professional meetings and, as such, can be tiring and occasionally depressing, but F&C is always like a class reunion.

Summing Up

OK. What can I take away from this cruise experience? Certainly it has been both bad and good. On the negative side: the guides' presentations were for the most part disconcerting, if not upsetting. Too many were pitched at a less educated audience. Granted, Greek and presumably Turkish law allows only licensed guides to explain sites, and clearly the guides themselves, except for the two well-informed gentlemen in Istanbul, regard their task as primarily entertainment. Facts come second. I'm afraid one has to put up with that. I was also concerned about the access problems Ron ran into. Some of the sites were rugged, and he definitely would have had a hard time at Aphrodisias. Mosques, with their rules about wearing shoes, were an even greater problem. If we were to do a Black Sea cruise, which features Byzantine and medieval history, there would be a large Islamic component and he might not be able to enter some of the places we were scheduled to visit. Positive features, though: first, Bill and Suzanne Murray were excellent hosts who made a point of bringing the three academic couples in the group together and facilitating socialization. Second, access to the Archaeological Museum at Istanbul and to Rhodes, Delos, Samos, Ephesus, and Aphrodisias was a stunning experience. Even though the first few days of the trip covered material I knew well, I was exposed to so much new stuff that the cruise could easily be justified on professional development grounds. Second, I've learned a lot I didn't previously know about Islam. After I accidentally left my copy of Cameron in the Athens hotel, I borrowed David Levering Lewis' God's Crucible: Islam and the Making of Europe, 570-1215 (New York and London: W. W. Norton, 2008) from the ship's library and have been working through it, especially on long bus rides. Lewis concentrates on the rise of Islam, starting with the long-drawn-out conflict between the Eastern Roman Empire and Persia beginning in the fourth century, which, in his view, exhausted both sides and weakened them to the point that they became easy targets for militant Islam after the death of Mohammed. His particular focus is Islamic Spain vs. the Christian Franks under Charlemagne. What strikes me after reading his work is that Christianity may not have been the principal factor in the change of sexual protocols after the second century CE, as I had assumed (along with most other scholars who follow Foucault). Islam must have been part of the mix as well, and I should take account of that when writing the last chapter and the conclusion of Sexuality. (Although I need to bear in mind that Islamic sexual protocols are closer to the ancient sex and gender scheme than to those of Christianity.) For the rest of it, the normal cruise amenities--food, relaxation--are acceptable, though the cuisine is suited to conservative tastes and sitting around without exercise is something I'm not used to. I should have risen early and joined the aerobics class. We have made some good acquaintances on board, so it is possible we will keep in touch. And, factoring in the costs of airfare, travel between sites, and food and lodging per diem, a cruise works out to about as much money as I would spend on a normal European vacation, except that expenses are front-loaded. As long as I don't go on any trip on which I know more than the tour guides, AIA cruises are a viable solution to the problem of planning an overseas holiday that works for both Ron and myself.

Final Day

In the morning, we passed the Chalcedonian peninsula and the monasteries on Mt. Athos. The Macedonian coast is impressively rugged, and one can see why access to a navigable harbor was so important to Philip II. Most of the day involved sitting around reading, as we had packed early and had nothing else to do. In the afternoon, we welcomed a brief excursion to the island of Skiaros. One near miss getting there: as our tender was bringing us from ship to shore, the power motor failed, leaving us adrift in the middle of the bay right in the path of a much bigger ship bearing down on us. The crew got the motor restarted before an accident happened, but it was close. Skiaros is strictly a tourist stop, with no sights at all. However, the weather was warm after damp Istanbul, the breeze was pleasant, and it was nice to stretch our legs. We found a shop selling olive oil, soaps, and honey and stocked up on gifts. Ron wanted to get some Greek marmalade, but none of the shops we tried stocked it. In the evening we had a final reunion with our friends outside the Terrace Cafe, just as the sun was setting. I was able to take several pictures of the magnificent sunset and, of course, a wonderful group photo to e-mail to everyone. Below, left to right: myself, Marc and Marjorie Raynor, Nancy and Chuck Carlson, Bill and Suzanne Murray, and Ron. Suzanne presented me with a jar of marmelade she found in the one store we didn't check. It has been a very happy time. Though it is sad to part, quoting Catullus seems particularly apposite: O dulces comitum valete coetus longe quos simul a domo profectos diversae varie viae reportant. O sweet assembly of comrades, farewell, whom, ventured together far from home, assorted paths will variously bring back. (46.9-11) ***********************

Istanbul, Day Two

Only one more morning in Istanbul, as the cruise ship was due to depart at noon. We went to the sixteenth-century Mosque of Sulayman the Magnificent and the fourth-century CE Chora Church, with its fourteenth-century mosaics. Again Ron could not enter the mosque and had to sit outside, but other group members were with him this time, and they were all joined by a friendly tomcat who purred his way from one lap to another. Sulayman's mosque, built a century earlier than the Blue Mosque, was even plainer in appearence, though immensely large, and did contain a huge pair of candlesticks brought by the sultan from Hungary. After the visit, we ran into a considerable traffic jam that made it impossible for the tour bus to pick us up and had to make our way down a busy street and get onto the bus illegally parked in a traffic zone. Traffic in Istanbul is worse than that in Athens or Rome and approaches conditions in Naples, which is saying something. Our trek to the bus did give me the opportunity to snap a typical street scene (right). The Chora, dating from the fourth century CE, contains Byzantine frescos painted shortly before the fall of the city. They were whitewashed under Ottoman occupation and restored when the church was converted into a museum again. Conditions were difficult, as usual, for indoor photography. On the other hand, I did get a nice picture of the exterior, as well as one of three half-grown cats sleeping on the surrounding grass. I also purchased a gorgeous Pashima scarf for ten lira ($1.50), though I'll have to put off wearing it until the next time I visit a mosque. Lunch was especially fun yesterday. We sat outside and feasted on calimari and scallops while the ship pulled out of Istanbul harbor. We broke our rule and had a second glass of wine with lunch, then retired for a nap. In the afternoon we heard Bill Murray lecture on Xerxes' invasion of Greece and Michael Higgins, a British geologist from the University of Quebec, explain the conditions that led to the silting up of Ephesus' harbor and the abandonment of the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. His theory that the original form of the goddess was a meteorite and that her unusual iconography reflects her extraterrestrial origins didn't seem to convince many people. (He was pretty diffident about it himself.) I think the clue to her unusual costume lies in the resemblance between it and that of the cult statue of Aphrodite at Aphrodisias. Both goddesses must be avatars of older Near Eastern divinities whose costume reflects their function as fertility powers. Instructions for final disembarkation reminded us that tomorrow will be our last day aboard ship, so I will dedicate the concluding entry to summing up my impressions.

Istanbul, Day One

This was a very long day. It began with a morning excursion to see the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, and Topkapi Palace. We disembarked on the site of the Hippodrome, and, although it is now merely a plaza, it still contains the New Kingdom pyramid of Tutmose III mounted on a base showing the emperor Theodosius in the imperial box holding the crown of victory. At the seventeenth-century Blue Mosque, we discovered that the rule regarding removal of shoes was strictly enforced. Ron had to wait outside while the group went in. This was a particular pity, since the tour guide, an older man, was very professional and explained a great deal about Islamic religious practice, especially the Friday rituals. I was embarrassed because I was not wearing a headscarf, though many other women were bareheaded. Having never been in a working mosque before--only the mosque in Cordoba, preserved as a museum--I was surprised at the lack of furnishings compared to those of a Christian church. The walls, however, were elegantly decorated with the patterned blue tiles that give the mosque its name. Then on to Hagia Sophia, which was every bit as marvelous as I expected it to be. It is a miracle that this wonder of late antiquity is preserved so well--even the absence of the original mosaics did not detract from its beauty, because the Islamic designs that replaced them blend in perfectly. It is no longer illuminated by candles, as Paul the Silentiary describes it, and the electric lighting is somewhat harsh, but I still managed to take one or two good pictures (see left) despite difficult conditions for photography--tremendous variation in exposure. (I wonder how much literature there is on Paul's ekphrastic epigram? Now that I've seen the original, I ought to check out the nuances.) We were told that it remained a functioning mosque until the 1930s, when it was converted into a museum. I'm very grateful that I've had the chance to see both the Pantheon in Rome and Hagia Sophia, as I now have a fairly accurate mental picture of what an Imperial-era bath or temple looked like inside. Not much to say, I'm afraid, about Topkapi Palace. We saw only the council chamber and three rooms in the Treasury. The famous dagger is OK, but I'm not particularly impressed by jewelry and fancy metalwork. Bill and Suzanne Murray had organized a separate excursion to the Archaeological Museum, since that was (inexplicably) not on the official program. Six of us went--Marc and Marjorie Raynor, Chuck and Nancy Carlson, and us. The museum was indeed worth the visit. Apart from the sarcophagi from the Royal Necropolis at Sidon, including the "Alexander Sarcophagus" portraying Alexander hunting with King Abdalonymus, we saw an excellent head of Alexander from Pergamum, a portrait bust of Sappho, and, something I had forgotten I would find there, the two commemorative steles set up to honor Porphyrius the charioteer, made famous by Alan Cameron. My only regret is that we did not have time to explore all the holdings and had to confine ourselves to the first floor (though I did run up briefly to the second to scope out the holdings from Troy--almost entirely pottery). If we ever come back to Istanbul, I will skip the mosques and spend all day at the museums, of which there are several. One unfortunate incident soured the day. After the museum, Bill found two taxis for the group. There were only six of us by then, as Marc and Marjorie stayed on to see more, so three of us got into each. The taxi driver, after dropping us off suspiciously far from the dock where the Aegean Odyssey was tied up (he said there was no way to get closer because of the traffic), attempted to charge us sixty-eight Turkish lira for what we had been told by the cruise agent was only a twenty-lira ride. (For comparison, the museum entrance fee was ten lira). Suzanne complained angrily, and we got into a very heated argument with him. Then Bill came up, and we learned that the driver was trying to charge us for both taxi rides and that Bill's driver had attempted exactly the same scam. Meanwhile, I had given Suzanne a fifty-lira bill, and the driver deftly palmed it and then claimed it was only a five. He and his colleague, who were obviously in cahoots, finally drove off after many more bitter words. In short, a really nasty scene. Bill and Suzanne were very embarrassed because both Nancy and I had overpaid. However, the amount in dollars wasn't that much--110 lira works out to $18.33--and the real issue was simply that we had been brazenly scammed. We worried that Marc and Marjorie, who were by themselves, might run into the same crooked driver, but they assured us this morning that their driver had been absolutely pleasant and completely honest, as far as they could tell. Luck of the draw.

Dardanelles

Today was a free day, so Ron and I spent most of our time reading, although I also took the opportunity to update this journal. The highlight of the day was passing through the Dardanelles and trying to spot Rhoeteum. Unfortunately I did not check its location before I left--and it really didn't occur to me that I would be passing by on the cruise--and consequently all I could do was guess. I missed the Achilleon at the entrance to the Dardanelles entirely. I remembered that Rhoeteum was above the Achilleon, nearer to Çanekkale, and the city itself was easy to identify, but there was nothing to indicate where Rhoeteum was. I did get a very good picture of Cape Nara, the site of ancient Abydos (left), and was unhappy to see that there seemed to be jeeps and heavy equipment at the top. I do have a sense now of what Troy and the surrounding terrain look like. Homer, by the way, was correct in calling it "windy." On a hill above Çanekkale there was a long line of windmills generating energy. Meanwhile, the gusts were so fresh on the ship that I occasionally had a hard time keeping the camera steady.

Aphrodisias

Description of the walking conditions at Aphrodisias as Grade 3, with steep stairs and uncertain footing, deterred Ron from going on the excursion. Rainy weather threatened as we disembarked, but in Aprodisias itself, a two and a half hour bus trip away, it was sunny and soon rather hot. Hearing a far-off muezzin call Friday prayers as we walked through the site was definitely memorable. We had the same Turkish guide as the day before, but someone must have said something to him, because there were no potty jokes and instead informative lectures on the history of Turkey and the present political and religious circumstances. The trek through the ruins was as rough as promised, though I've seen worse. Aphrodisias itself is a great place, beautifully restored. Little remains, unfortunately, of the Temple of Aphrodite, but the Sebasteion, a monument to Augustus erected by Zoilius, probably the freedman of Julius Caesar, who became a town benefactor, is impressive. The original reliefs are in the on-site museum. It was nice to see the famous representations of Agrippina as the wife of Claudius (below left) and crowning her son Nero (below right). Dinner with Nancy and Chuck Carlson and Marc and Marjorie Raynor. Conversation was difficult, as we sat outside on the deck and voices were sometimes drowned out by the ship's engines. Still, I enjoyed myself. Afterwards, early bedtime, since Aphrodisias did tire me. Everyone is looking forward to the free day tomorrow.