Shakespeare on Ice

Away from home almost two weeks and it seems like a lifetime. Funny how that happens, isn't it?

Spent several wonderful days in the Cotswold region of Sourthern England and had the good fortune to get a ticket to the Royal Shakespeare Company's production of Julius Caeser at the Swan Theater in Stratford-Upon-Avon. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill production -- it was a modernized production. Think "Rent" meets The Bard. The set was minimalist (one large square of black pipe rigging), complete with synthesized sound effects, dramatic lighting effects, and modern costumes (suits and street wear, not a toga or grape leaf in sight). The script was pure classic Shakespeare, so nothing was lost in that respect. Just when I expected Brutus to break out in song, there actually was one short song and dance number. Don't turn your nose up; it worked -- it was terrific!

At first the modern dress was distracting, but the performances were so supurb that soon it all melded together into an incredible experience. IMO, this was a ground-breaking "important" treatment of a classic play. Unlike other directors who have tried (and to some extent failed) to put a modern spin on Shakespeare (Gus Van Sant's "My Own Private Idaho" being one example), this actually worked. I plan to write an extensive review when I return home. No doubt, Shakespearean purists would hate this production. However, this open-minded theatergoer (who was just thrilled to be at the Swan witnessing the RSC) thought it was "brillant," as the English say.

The kids and I spent a couple of days in London while Hubby had his business meetings. As I may have mentioned in a previous post, we were in London two years ago, so this time we were hitting the sites we'd missed last time: The London Eye, Westminster Abbey, and Harrods (where they have a Hot Chocolate Bar that would satisfy the most intense chocolate jones -- with at least a dozen different types of hot chocolate including one which is just molten and eaten with a spoon -- oh, be still my ultra-caffeinated sugar-high heart).

Now we are in Stockholm where it is dämn cöld. Snow on the ground, hats on our heads, scarves pulled up around our faces. We are staying at the uber hip Hotel Rival. Click on the link and check this place out. The place is built on a theater, and each room has a film or theater theme. It has been designed by some hot Swedish artists. It's Ikea with shades of MOMA -- sleek, colorful, and minimalist. You should see the crowd -- the most bohemian bunch to ever step away from a bar -- surely some European rock stars I don't recognize; they're just too beautiful and hip to be regular tourists. Makes me wish I had spikey hair and had packed my goth garb.

They have flat screen TVs in every room of this hotel and music CDs for your listening pleasure. So what was in our room upon checkin? Radiohead's OK Computer and Red Hot Chili Peppers' Californication.

Oh. Yes.

And speakers in the bathroom. This morning I showered while grooving on Flea's bass. How much better can it get, I ask you?

The hotel is owed by two men who are the Bs in the Swedish group ABBA. So of course, ABBA CDs abound in every room.

Yesterday the family and I made our way to the Ice Bar at the Nordic Light Hotel. It's a bar made entirely of blocks of ice from a northern sea. The Ice Hotel (yes, a hotel made entirely of blocks of ice) is about 100 miles north of here in the middle of snow drifts -- next to the Ice Globe Theater -- (yes, a model of Shakespeare's Globe made entirely of ice, where they recently performed Romeo and Juliet-- what light through younder ice cube breaks?)

Anyway, we stopped into the Ice Bar, donned silver ponchos and felt like we had stepped into a scene from the first Star Trek film -- everything was very silver and pastel. And cold. Below freezing. It's the hippest meat locker on the planet to embibe some Absolut. Drinks are served in glasses made from small rectangular ice blocks. The kids had juice, of course. We kept admonishing them NOT to lick the ice tables for fear their tongues would get stuck.

Despite all this fun, I'm looking forward to going home next week. All the warm sweaters, down comforters, radiant-heated tile bathroom floors, and cups and cups of hot tea do not compare to the milder climes of my beloved left coast. When all is said and done, I really really really hate being cold.