I had arrived in Sydney on a Wednesday with plans to see the orchestra at the Opera House, but unfortunately I had gotten sick and couldn’t go despite having bought a ticket. This was disappointing because the seat I had secured was excellent and I would’ve gotten to see the orchestra up close. So when the train trip Sunday got cancelled, I immediately did two things. I re-booked at the Glenferrie and bought an opera ticket. The only show that seemed worth seeing was a female artist called Tanjing. She was billed as the Sarah Brightman of the East and, hey, I like Sarah Brightman. So Tanjing it was.
I arrived at the venue with my ticket and spent several minutes trying to figure out where the entrance was. I knew the Opera House was a big structure, but I honestly felt like an ant next to it now. I found my way in and, for the third time that day, was very conscious of the fact that I was once again a minority. I was nearly the only non-Chinese person there. I later found out why.
I wandered around a bit and ended up on a balcony where people were taking pictures. I once again took a picture for a couple and they returned the favor. They were Chinese born, lived outside Sydney, and enjoyed living here. I went back inside and up a winding stairway to the entry the doors. After several minutes they finally opened so I found my seat. Next to me sat an older Chinese man who seemed confused as to why I was there, but friendly nonetheless. In front of us were two college girls who had spent their rent money on tickets for the show and were waiting to have rent money wired from China. They didn’t seem to care overly about their precarious financial situation and were just excited to be there. As the theater filled up, I saw only Asian faces. Then the show began.
I should say here that when I had been looking for something to see, I noticed there were two different purchasing options for this show and one was only in Mandarin. I had also noted that the program I was given was entirely in Chinese characters. Now I realized why. The entire concert was in Mandarin: the songs, the chats with audience between numbers, the intro videos during costume changes, and the delighted chatter around me. But despite all of that, I have to say that it was a really good show! The lights, music, sound system, and showmanship were impressive. Even though I didn’t understand any of it, the man next to me loved every minute and seemed to know every song. He was dancing in his seat, cheering and fist pumping as songs began, singing along, and was generally beside himself.
Tanjing was either a national treasure, sang beloved songs, or was just really popular because everyone there loved her. She blended traditional Chinese styles of singing with contemporary pop styles as well as traditional sounds and instruments with electronic music (Mandapop). She also had an ‘erhu’ player perform a couple of numbers, which the audience went crazy over, as well as a Tibetan singer. I didn’t speak Mandarin, but I could understand the music and the feelings the music evoked: some of it very moving, some of it very catchy, some of it very sweet. The man next to me would occasionally nudge me excitedly and tell me the name of a song or how excited he was about it. He had a ball and that actually made it more enjoyable for me too.
I later learned that Tanjing was the first place finalist on a Chinese musical competition show called The Singer, where she was the clear stand-out, as well as, to quote Wikipedia: ‘a solo singer in the CPC (Central Military Commission Political Department Song and Dance Troupe) and a first class national actress. Her music blends bel canto, Chinese national music (Guoyue), and popular singing styles. She has been dubbed “The Voice of Harmony” for her efforts to spread Chinese music, culture, and goodwill through her professional and philanthropic contributions’.
I wandered away from the Opera House frequently stopping to take pictures and bought a few postcards on the way back to the ferry.
Earlier that day in the plaza outside of the Friendship garden there was a man angrily walking around shouting at no one and at everyone at the same time. It was something about a mongrels and how angry he was that Sydney was being overrun with Chinese people and how they should all leave. I remember thinking that if he wanted Sydney to be a better place, his leaving it would be a good start. I’ve made so many Chinese friends while teaching and I’ve become somewhat protective of them. I knew very few Chinese people growing up. They were a far away people and had little bearing on my life. But I’ve found the students I’ve met to be very sweet and good-natured people. More than anything that day I realized how much I’d like to be able to learn the language and reach out to them.
