A word from the stage

Funchal's Baltazar Dias Municipal Theatre is a gorgeous old building from the 1880s, which was apparently intended as a mini-La Scala.

I went last night - we arrived late, and I figured we wouldn't get in until intermission. But no, the nice man unlocked the enormous foyer doors, and the nice lady reopened the ticket booth (tickets costing an outrageous five euros). Another person guided us towards the theatre, and unlocked another enormous door. My first thought was "They lock the audience in?? That's got to break every EU H&S law going..." but it turns out she was opening a private stall for us, so we didn't disturb anyone as we took our seats. I felt like we were being rewarded for showing up late.

The play was a good laugh - I scrabbled enough Portuguese together to follow the plot. Some lines I understood fully, like "Where is the parsley?" (she asked for salsa, which we all know is not coriander but parsley, yessirree). The play was ruled over by an Italian harpy-granny, who barked orders in Italian throughout. When she shrieked"Vaffanculo!" I understood perfectly - thanks to my mother's careful instruction...