Where are my Galilean Binoculars?

Easter has become something of an oddity for me. I don't have any children, and I'm not particularly religious. So this year, instead, I went to the Opera.

(I know, right?)

Don Giovanni, put on at the Huntington Theatre.

When I was younger, I had a CD of arias that I would listen to while I studied. I did it because I had heard that it was good for me; not because it was something I was drawn to. (I have a curiously long history of this, which displays itself most prominently in my eating tomatoes and mushrooms now.) There was always this internal mental debate of "Could I like a song if I didn't understand the lyrics?" This question remains unanswered.

But at the theatre, they were at least kind enough to have little screens on either side of the stage that translated from Italian so rubes like me could keep up. And what a show, I really have to say. There were some songs stronger than others, and some singers stronger than others, but how all of these different experts (an expert pianist, an expert cellist, an expert soprano, an expert bass) came together to regale us with this tale--that was phenomenal. I kept wanting to add up all of the years of training between them all.