Day 3. Malt Toffee Chewy Bar. Kinda missing the clean, fruity goodness of yesterday's Cranberry Crunch Bar, plus I don't normally enjoy sticky, chewy things stuck to my teeth. But the toffee bar's at least more agreeable than the chocolate or caramel. Both taste so much like a candy bar, I am immediately compelled by Catholic guilt to kneel, say three Hail Mary's and one Hail Holy Queen (Mother of Mercy).
Still feeling alive, alert, awake and enthusiastic. It's amazing how full I feel with just one Cambridge meal replacement bar. Normally, it would have taken two sausages, three eggs, two hash browns and a toast - the French kind.
***
Last night, Chris and I saw the City Chamber Orchestra at, where else, the City Hall.
I honestly did not expect too much, after the horror that my friend, Kimbie, and I were subjected to only a few days ago...
Kimbie and I had gone to the Champagne Bar at the Grand Hyatt for some cheeky pre-show bubbles. After a couple of flutes of Moët & Chandon Vintage 2000 and some seriously snobbish bar nuts, we finally felt primed for a night of posh classical music. We were a giggly mess.
Imagine our horror when, what was meant to be a beautiful night of music turned out to be a croak-fest. The venerable director of the charity had assigned himself the star attraction of the concert. He couldn't keep time with the orchestra. He kept gesticulating wildly for the stage managers to adjust his mic stand. And when, for the finale, a grand chorale sang back-up for "Love Changes Everything" after "You'll Never Walk Alone," Kimbie and I couldn't decide whether to laugh, cry, or pull our hair out in ever intensifying dementia. In the end, we applauded over-enthusiastically for fear of our lives. It was obviously an audience of friends, and we didn't want to appear like uncivilized Philistines. Wait, that's redundant.
Anyhow.
It was a fundraising concert that helps financially disadvantaged students pursue further musical studies - a cause that Kimbie and I understood. She plays the French horn and I sang with - what else - the glee club. So we chalked up the HKD300 per head ticket price to a good cause and left as soon as intermission was announced.
"Mexican," I smacked my lips.
"Agave," she agreed.
We started the night with champagne; we ended it with the biggest motherfucking margarita.
Wan Chai rocks.
***
So back to the CCOHK and countertenor Michael Chance, under the baton of guest conductor Stephen Layton.
Michael Chance is the musical equivalent of an Olympic athlete. The discipline and clinical precision with which he phrased vocally tortuous Handel passages were mind blowing. He might as well have been singing names off of a proverbial phone book, but I felt everything. He was generous enough to gift the audience with an encore after an extended ovation.
The CCOHK's repertoire was audacious. The Britten finale, in particular, was a virtuoso tour de force that was passionate, robust and finely articulated. I found myself holding my breath in several sections. Never before have I been treated to such stratified musicality by a local act, and the CCOHK simply shut it down.
***
I was so inspired by such fine things in life that, after the concert, I dragged Chris to Berluti. It's shoe porn, for sure, with matching pornographic price tags. With our noses pressed against the window display, I urged Chris to make a choice: "For your 50th birthday present, you can choose between that HKD18,000 pair of shoes or an island in Palawan."
Chris laughed and dragged me away, towards the tram. "Let's book a couple of shows for the Arts Festival next month."
With Affection,
James
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