It’s opening night of Portland Opera’s La Boheme and I’ve been asked to blog.

I’m sitting in the lobby at a long table with six other bloggers, feeling a bit exposed, like a stripper behind the glass. I’m supposed to say intelligent and observant things about the evening but I’m feeling rather stupid and inarticulate. So, wish me luck. Here we go:

For starters, La Boheme is one of my favorite operas. The music is glorious, the story heartbreaking. You all know it already. Who hasn’t seen Rent by now in one of its various stops for Portland Opera’s Broadway series? Four artists live in a garotte in the center of Paris. They are poor and starving. The original bohemians. They live, they love, they experience heartbreak and grow up.

Stage Manager Laura Haskell meets us by the orchestra pit for a backstage tour. I’m supposed to pay attention to her but I’m distracted by the gorgeous sound of a harpist tuning her instrument. I’m transfixed. I’ve never heard a harp from so close and I want to swim in the sound. Please don’t make me leave this spot.

Laura takes us for a tour backstage. The set takes my breath away. Strewn with artistic paraphernalia (paint brushes, books and an easel), it’s my fantasy life come true. There’s an unmade bed off to one side with a copy of Sherlock Holmes on top. Suddenly I feel very tired and just want to climb into it and snuggle. Ah, me. Who wouldn’t want to be poor and struggling as a bohemian in Paris?