Dance, my pretties, dance!

Regular readers might be surprised to learn that under my loutish, football-loving, vodka-swilling exterior beats the heart of a prima ballerina. Yes, I took ballet classes until the age of eight -- when it became clear that my inadequate physique and general lack of drive and talent were never going to result in me being a great dancer. I swapped barre exercises for voice projection exercises at a local drama class instead, standing me in good stead for my short-lived teaching career and ability to bellow at naughty students and analysts alike without damaging my vocal chords.

Despite this change in middle-class Saturday morning activities, I've always retained a love for the ballet. It's pretty, and sparkly, and terribly, terribly nice -- and, more importantly, it's not opera or theatre, both of which are just appalling. When living in London, I'd periodically take myself off to the Royal Opera House to watch Sylvie Guillem or Darcey Bussell, but I've been rather slack about doing the same in Amsterdam. Until last night. On our way back through Schiphol last weekend, I saw posters for The National Ballet's production of Jewels -- very sparkly! I booked two tickets, informed PJ of what we would be doing, and he agreed to come along -- and then promptly developed a cold. And not just a skiving man cold, but a proper phlegm-generating cold. Luckily, I was able to find a last-minute substitution and Beth came along for her first ballet performance.

And it was fun. The Muziektheater in Amsterdam is a great building; I mean, it's a shame they bulldozed an area of 17th century warehouse slums (which would now be worth a fortune) to build it, but it's beautifully proportioned, comfy seats, and fabulous ceiling with thousands of light bulbs that turn off and flip round just as the curtain goes up. The ballet itself was new to me. It's a three-act abstract ballet covering different styles: Emeralds is French romanticism; Rubies is New York jazz; and Diamonds is Imperial Russia -- a great introduction to ballet. The performance was generally very good, although one of the soloists in Emeralds seemed somewhat stiff, and the choreography didn't always match the music -- but I guess that's Balanchine's fault, rather than The National Ballet's. Rubies was my favorite piece, and it looked like the dancers', too. They performed with a real sense of joie de vivre -- clearly having a lot of fun and transmitting that to the audience.

Cycling home after, I realized that I've often failed to take advantage of Amsterdam. There are a huge number of cultural events every week, and I've never plugged into the "scene" enough to appreciate that. But now that we've finally set in motion the plan to leave, I'll find hundreds of things that I want to attend -- it's inevitable. I guess I'll just have to make sure we engage rather more with "culture" in our next home town.