A Bungled Attempt To Culture Myself

Apparently my experience in Venezuela had been going a little too smoothly, because I hadn't had any inspiration lately to write another rant of a post. Fortunately for you all, that problem no longer exists.

Sometime last week I got an email from my aunt alerting me that I had the opportunity to attend a once-in-a-lifetime concert. 31-year old Venezuelan native and genius Gustavo Dudamel was returning home to conduct the Los Angeles Philharmonic for a series of symphonies composed by Gustav Mahler at the Teresa Carreño Theater, which is located about half a mile from my apartment. I was vaguely aware of the performances because the Dudamel/LA Philharmonic combination just won a Grammy for best classical music, or something like that, which garnered a good bit of coverage in the local press here. I had heard of Dudamel in the past, as he is the crown jewel in Venezuela's famous ¨El Sistema,¨ which provides free musical instruments and training to underprivileged children throughout the country. It is one of the Chávez administration's most impressive achievements. But I hadn't really given any thought to attending any of the concerts.

On Saturday afternoon I got another email from my aunt with another article about the huge success that the performances were having, which contained the additional information that that night's concert would be the last and that a giant screen had been set up outside of the theater that was free for anyone who came. She implored this time, ¨I really hope you have attended this magnificent once in a lifetime symphonic collaboration. This surpasses politics and baseball.¨ Strong words from such a big sports fan as is my aunt.

So I decided that this was a more than worthy way of spending a Saturday night. And also that it would be more fun to attend with someone else.

Well it was about 4:30 local time when I read that email. The concert was scheduled to start at 7:00. Over the next 45 minutes I called three different people, each of whom had a strong reason to attend, at least one of whom would probably marry me if I asked, and attempted to persuade them to join me. All of them declined. My frustration mounted with each rejection.

First I called a friend who I had not seen in about a week. She quickly said that the neighborhood was too dangerous and she would not consider making the trek there on a Saturday evening. I reminded her that it was about four blocks from my apartment and that I never had any problems, but no dice. Next I called my sometimes over-eager friend, certain of acceptance. But first she complained about not knowing what to wear (to stare at a giant screen outside?!) and ultimately she confessed, ¨Te quiero, te adoro, pero esa música no me gusta!¨ I responded that it didn't matter and that I would go see the world's best shepherd if he/she was in town, but my powers of persuasion once again failed me.

Finally I turned to the world's surest bet: Patricia. Patricia loves classical music, and I should know because she blasts it every day in our apartment for two hours or so. Also, she does literally nothing all day every day. A typical day in the life of Patricia: awoken at 5 am by her cat, who sleeps with her under the covers. Gets up to feed the cat. Back to bed. Get up around 7 to make coffee. Stare at the wall for half an hour. Back to bed. Get up at 9 or 10, turn on some music at full volume,  and clean the dishes from yesterday, which she leaves in the refrigerator overnight. Do some laundry if necessary. Watch some tv. At 1 or 2 begin to fix lunch. After lunch, run an errand if one exists. Then back to her room to watch tv/doze off for the rest of the afternoon. At 5 or 6 it's time for more music and maybe wash the floor. Read some self-help or spiritual guidebooks. Make a phone call. By 8 it's back to the bedroom for tv and staring at the wall. Oh, I almost forgot, every 20 minutes or so throughout the day there must be a shriek of baby talk to the cat, loud enough for the neighbors three floors up to hear. At 10:30 or 11 it's time for bed. Rinse and repeat.

So I called Patricia at about 5:00 and laid out my plans, certain that she would thank me every day for the remainder of my stay with her. Instead she asked how she would get to and from the theater. I replied that I did not have time to return to the apartment to pick her up, but that I would meet her at the closest metro station or at the theater. To return I had planned on walking (it would have taken us 10 minutes), but that if she was not comfortable with that I would pay for a taxi. She mumbled something, asked a few other questions, hemmed and hawed, and finally said, ¨No voy.¨ I about threw my phone on the ground and hung up as quickly as I good.

I ended up going to the theater by myself., and joined the 500 or so people who were there to watch outdoors. The most exciting moments came at the beginning of the performance when everyone discovered that the sound to the big screen had not been turned on. I thought for a moment that I might witness a full-scale riot for the first time in Venezuela. Angry chants of ¨so-ni-do!¨ filled the courtyard as theater employees looked on warily, but nobody did anything for 10-15 minutes. At one point someone started up the La Guaira Tiburones chant, which I particularly enjoyed. Finally the sound was turned on, which in the end did little to improve the experience for me.

I really do like classical music, but I am nor familiar with Mahler and it was tough to get into the experience when I did not recognize anything I heard. Plus his 8th Symphony was low and slow and featured way too much operatic-style singing for my taste. So I ended up leaving after about 75 minutes, though I will never admit that to my friend who said from the outset she didn't like the music.

This little guy felt about like I did

All in all I'm still glad I went. I saw some world-class music even if I couldn't appreciate it. And I proved once and for all that Patricia is bad at life. But never again will I take it for granted that people will actually go somewhere with me even if they have every reason in the world to do so.