Day 143/365 - Buon Compleanno!

Today was the sixth and final day of my trip to Venice. It's also my birthday. It was a day spent largely disguised as someone cultured and refined rather than as an uncouth Midwestern bumpkin. I got a bit of a late start this morning, but I kicked things off with a trip to the Ca d'Oro Museum (14th-16th Century paintings, sculptures, and tapestries) and then wandered around the last neighborhood of the city I had yet to explore, the residential area of Cannaregio. I saw a church full of Titian paintings and lots of Venetians doing their shopping at the market on a Saturday and then it was time to head back to the hotel and get dressed up for an afternoon at the opera.

Before I left home I found an on-line ticket broker and bought myself a ticket to see the opera "Romeo et Juliette" at Teatro La Fenice, a theater that has certainly earned its name of 'The Phoenix' given that it has burned to a shell and been rebuilt. Twice. It was an afternoon showtime, so before it began I stopped and had a good lunch (pasta and bean soup, squid cooked in its own ink with polenta, ricotta cake, and two glasses of Prosecco) at a restaurant right on the steps of La Fenice.

La Fenice itself is quite a show. It's a little, gilded, cloisonne music box of a theater. Photography inside is prohibited but I managed to sneak a few shots. Judging by the number of camera flashes I saw going off, I wasn't the only one (although I had the decency and sense to turn off my flash at least). The opera was great. They went with a very contemporary staging that had a glam rock, goth, anime, rave feel to it and the set was an enormous record turntable that actually rotated at times and had a moving arm (from which Juliet plucked the needle to stab herself at the end). It was the first time I'd seen a pink-haired Juliet. She even had matching pink laces in her combat boots. She was a phenomenal performer, too. And she was smoking hot. It sounds a bit like an odd choice of production design, especially for such a historical venue, but it really worked well. The story is about 13 and 14 year-olds after all.

After the show I popped into a cafe for hot chocolate and a chocolate and nut covered cookie that served as my birthday cake, and then I went to see another musical performance -- this one by musicians and singers in powdered wigs and 17th clothes. I had hoped to get to attend a peformance of local composer Antonio Vivaldi's "Four Seasons," but evidently they have a rotating schedule and today it was a sampler platter of baroque classical music pieces and arias from various operas. It was held at the Scuola Grande di San Teodoro -- a big, historic music school and concert hall -- and was quite good.

From there, it was time to head to the casino and see if I had any birthday luck. The casino in Venice is the oldest operating casino in the world and, as it's located in a former palace, it's quite swanky. When I walked in there in my suit I had to resist the urge to announce myself as "Bond, James Bond." That would have blown my sophisticated act real quick. I managed to quickly lose 50 euros in five straight spins of the roulette wheel and then spent a few minutes wandering through the various rooms with one hand in my pocket and a glass of Prosecco in the other, fronting like I was cool and sophisticated while I checked out the paintings and chandeliers and other gamblers. It was definitely a high-roller kind of a place. There were people making bets of hundreds and even thousands of euros at a time, which made my little ten euro bets seem a bit anemic.

Being in Venice is like living inside a poem. Tomorrow we reach the final stanza for me however, and I have to pack up my belongings and head back to the decidedly more prosaic DC. It's been one hell of a trip.

(Taken with my Nikon Coolpix S200)

Day 103/365 - The Emperor's New Clothes

The title of today’s entry is utterly tongue-in-cheek, btw. I can barely keep myself in line, heaven forbid I was ever actually put in charge of anything. Pia invited me to tag along with her tonight to the presidential inauguration cocktail reception being hosted by the South Dakota State Society and since the dress code was semi-formal and I didn’t own a suit, I went out on Saturday and bought myself one. Being a lawyer who doesn’t own a suit is a bit like being a cowboy who doesn’t own a horse, but I’m a government lawyer. That means I don’t go to court and I spend most of my workdays sitting in my office reviewing documents and drafting legal memoranda. As such, a suit is wholly unnecessary.

I figured it would probably be a good idea to own one just on general principles, though, and going to this cocktail reception provided me with a perfect excuse to do a little shopping. So I drafted my friend Des to help out and away we went to the mall at Pentagon City. We tried Marshalls (not much selection), Macy’s (nothing in my size), Joseph A. Bank (nothing in my size, cheap materials, and grossly overpriced), and even a tuxedo shop before finding the guy equivalent of my glass slipper at Nordstrom’s.

Turns out I’m a 46 short in suit sizes and apparently that is a tough size to find, which basically means I’m a weird shaped dude. We hit the jackpot at Nordstrom’s though and they had three in my size – black, blue, and grey. I went for the black pinstripe. The sales lady was super helpful and friendly and really on the ball. When I told her I needed to be able to wear it tonight, she grabbed the tailor, had him mark it up, and told him to have it ready for me to pick up this morning. She was awesome. If you’re ever in the market for menswear, go to the Nordstrom’s at Pentagon City and ask for Lysa. She’ll know exactly what you need, even if you’re as completely clueless about clothes as I am.

So this week’s self-portrait is me in my new big boy suit. It’s made by some guy named Joseph Abboud, whom I’d never heard of but whom Des said does good work. I felt all growed up and sophistimacated and everything when I put it on this evening. The cocktail reception was nice. It was held at historic James Monroe House and there were hors d’oeuvres and bars and a violinist and pianist and swanky heated tents in the garden and everything.

I drank champagne, stuffed my face, and wandered around checking out the architecture of the house and the artwork therein. Monroe House is home to the Art Club of Washington, DC and it has some very nice paintings hanging on the walls. The First Family-elect didn’t put in an appearance at the reception (drat the luck), but both of South Dakota’s senators were in attendance. They seemed like nice enough guys, even though they are politicians.

(Taken with my Nikon D80)