Verdi's grand opera "Aida," with a side of sick

I attended the final show this season of Verdi's masterpiece, Aida. The Cairo Opera House, which I understand was donated by the Japanese not too many years ago, is a spectacular exclamation point on the south end of Zamalek Island. The south of the island is more properly know as Gezirah, it's old colonial name. It's still the name of the extensive park and sporting club there - still featuring a polo ground and magnificent gardens.

The set was uber-golden spectacular, the chorus extensive. But I simply couldn't get over how old Aida was. I mean, come on - she supposed to be this Nubian slave beauty with whom the soldierly Ramdas falls madly in love, to the disgust of the Pharaoh's daughter. She has her eye on him, but Aida's supposedly too much for his gallant heart, and he more or less rejects the Pharoah's daughter for -- that??!

I know I should be nice, but they were both portrayed poorly; Ramdas too weak, and Aida too dumpy. Which meant everytime he professed his love I wanted to throw rotten tomatoes instead of weep tears. The Pharaoh's daughter and the High Priest stole the show and, based on the cheering at the end, I wasn't the only one that thought so.

I kept up with the plot as best as I could, aided solely by the program. For the Arabic speakers in the audience (of which I'm not one yet) there was a projection screen with Arabic subtitles. Handy for them, frustrating for me. I felt better when I noticed there seemed to be an inordinate amount of Japanese in the audience. Now, maybe they could read Arabic - or knew Italian - I don't know. Maybe they just came to check on their investment. But at least I wasn't the only non-Egyptian in the audience. And there were tons of AUC students.

My general enjoyment wasn't helped by the fact that I was ill, and by act III I thought I was going to keel over since the hammers located right behind my eyes refused to stop their infernal pounding.

But other than that, it was a great time.