Two more reviews of Move Over, Mrs. Markham have been published, praising our cast as an ensemble. Together we are "brilliant," "professional," and "superb" while "Director Brent Stringfield has outdone himself with casting this hilarious farce." Hats off to all nine of us, indeed.
But that was the weekend. With no shows running on weekdays and no further rehearsal necessary, I have a lot of free time on my hands; and with a noisy neighbor downstairs, for my own sanity, I wanted to spend it out of the house. For the last two days, that's just what I've done.
On Monday, finding an evening audition led me down Highway 163, one of the more useful roads in this area, but one I usually avoid due to high-speed lane merges. However, as I zoomed down the highway Monday night, I noted that it provided easy access to Balboa Park on a straight shot from home. Thus, my plans for Tuesday were made.
On Tuesday, I was once again headed down 163 to 6th Avenue. This time, I turned in at the park. Though my more traveled friends might chose other venues, Balboa Park is easily the most beautiful place I've ever been. I spent the day taking it in, walking from end to end, getting my bearings and committing them to memory. Here is the rose garden; this bridge crosses the Park Boulevard; this bridge crosses the highway; there is the California Tower and Museum of Man; there is the Aerospace Museum.
By late afternoon I was re-tracing my steps. The sun was too persistent for decent photographs, so I took a seat at the Sprekels Organ Pavilion. There, I discovered, a free evening concert would take place in short order. I figured it would have to be better than the crazy lady waxing operatic with a tambourine near the Botanical Building, so I grabbed a Diet Coke and a hot dog and settled in. The Ron Jerman band wasn't the best orchestra I'd ever heard play Big Band music, but what they lacked in panache was made up for in authenticity. The "kid" of the group was 89. Or so they joked. Still, it was clear that they'd grown up with this stuff. So too had the charming older couples who graced the dance floor, and it was quite refreshing to watch dancers from an era when flailing about like dying fish would have indicated that you needed medical attention. This was the good stuff.
On Wednesday, I took my photos to the 1-Hour developers and took another drive down 163, passing the exit to Balboa Park. Instead, I found myself downtown, parked at the Convention Center. I fed a meter and walked the quote-smattered Martin Luther King Jr. Promenade. Headed back for my photos (and more film!), I drove through the Gaslamp Quarter. One block more, and I had a good look at Petco Park, home of the Padres.
Not ready to stop exploring once I had prints in hand, I returned to 163 and to another part of Balboa Park: the world famous San Diego Zoo. I'd visited twice before, but this would be my first trip without children in the lead. As it turned out, I could have used their navigation; I was useless with the park's map and the new Monkey Trails exhibit was a dizzying distraction in my attempt to visit the pandas and Polar Bear Plunge. I found both in time, but not before stopping for an amazing puppet presentation starring Puff the Magic Dragon. It seems that I did bring one kid to the park after all. A big one. The script was clever and I was truly amazed by things I saw on that marionette stage, including a belly dance, flying birds, a swordfight, and a tornado. I was blown away.
The hours are extended to 9:00 in the summer for a Nighttime Zoo experience, but by 8:00, skies still bright, I was exhausted and ready to leave. I briefly quelled my fear of heights for a foot-sparing ride in an aerial tram to the east end of the park, near the exit. There, I stopped to watch young girls compete in a truly amusing hula hoop competition. Despite Zookeeper Willie's determination to find something, anything, jarring enough to make them drop their hoops, the contest ended with three rather talented winners.
Immediately following, curtains behind me opened to an impressive bit of performance art called The Fountain, one of two pieces in The Living Garden. At first glance, from a distance, you'd have thought you were looking at a stone sculpture, but when the statue opens her eyes and begins, very slowly, to move to a classical soundtrack, you become transfixed as she strikes new and interesting poses, spouting water from her fingertips without mussing her costume or makeup. At the end of her performance, you are greeted by the second piece of The Living Garden: DiVine, a 7-foot walking plant. As with The Fountain, her costume and makeup are stunning, and this is some outfit -- as children stop to pose with the plant, it is difficult to figure just where the artist's joints end and her stilts begin, but her movement is beautiful. If you have the opportunity to visit San Diego before Nighttime Zoo wraps up in early September, I recommend stopping in for the show.
I took a different route home from the zoo, through downtown and onto I-5, from which I could see the lights of the Southwest Airlines Skytower at Sea World, decorated for the upcoming 4th of July. I followed the highway until I could stop for a picture, ending on Sea World Drive. I was surprised to find the park still open after 8:00, but the Nighttime theme continued: Sea World Summer Nights keeps the park open until 10:00. So I went in.
Inside, the cast of the park's Riptide production was warming-up for a 9:30 show that looked promising, so when they took a break, I strolled over to watch the late Shamu performance House of Douse, which, I discovered later, is in its final year. The sun had finally set, so it was a treat to watch Shamu literally in the spotlight. Though I'd seated myself in the Soak Zone, I was thankful to be dry as I left the arena under cool breezes to catch the stage show.
At 9:30 Riptide took the stage with acrobats, dancers, and an incredible drum line ready to mesmerize the audience with a Cirque de Soleil quality routine. And they did. The performance was capped at 10:00 by SkyBlast, the nightly fireworks display. Visitors were invited to mingle with the cast after the show, and as folks waited for traffic to clear many a young child tried to mimic the display they'd just seen when drummers offered them their sticks.
Traffic cleared with surprising speed and the ride home was an easy one on yet another road -- this one, the one I'm living on. Although what I've described here --concerts, killer whales, pandas, and fireworks -- reads like an expensive vacation, the only money I laid down over the course of two days paid for the hot dog and Diet Coke at Balboa Park. Oh, and the film I had developed. For a member of both the Zoo and Sea World, everything else was free.
Yes, Virginia... membership really DOES have its privileges. And San Diego is one hell of a town.
3 comments:
1. How did the audition go?
2. You are going back, right?
I was referring to Monday's FaultLine audition... I arrived but did not read for a part after noting a conflict with Markham's closing weekend.
Looking forward to your tour when I get there :)
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