Ballet

A good friend gave Chloe and I tickets to The Nutcracker ballet (or Piotr Ceaikovski’s SPĂRGĂTORUL DE NUCI /Щелкунчик, as it is doubly referred to here). It was performed at the National Opera House and was exquisite. I am always impressed by fluid movements on tippy toes but this had great theatrical quality, elaborate sets and astounding physical feats within choreographed dance.  Chloe was wide-eyed at the edge of her seat the whole time. Though this is her second ballet attendance, she leaned over to me twice to whisper “this is a good ballet.” Her tone was reverent and hinted at a lasting awe — the kind of awe that allows moments to last beyond childhood in our memories.

These pictures are courtesy of the National Balet and Opera House…

Joining in the audience of a performance in Moldova was an interesting cultural experience as well. It seems to be culturally acceptable to speak during a performance as many people were talking to one another throughout the entire show. Mothers narrating “look at the tree, isn’t it beautiful” in Romanian and Russian murmurs. These were hushed voices but not entirely whispers. At one point, a girl was yelled at by woman. It was distracting for me since my cultural heritage suggests that it is, well, rude to speak or answer one’s cell phone during a performance.

It is also commonplace to clap during the performance. What does an outsider do? If I do not clap while they are still dancing, does it say I am not enjoying it? I hope not.  Every time someone was lifted, clapping erupted. Lifting is well liked, I got that much, but what was most curious was not cause or timing of the applause but the very clapping itself. I am used to applause with each person on their own rhythm and when truly boisterous, there is no empty space. This is something very different. It is synchronized. Everyone is clapping on the exact same beat that starts slow but in a long stretch of clapping gets faster and faster, never breaking form. Like everyone has the same silent song in mind. I expected the swell of clapping to erupt into a crescendo of unabashed slap-happy applause, but it never did.

When reflecting on our great experience at the ballet I remember the crowd’s show of appreciation and the ‘we are one’ vibe displayed. I wonder if applause in other former communist states is similar and if there is a silent song I am not privy to.