Before I really get started, it is important to note that I really do, actually, like theater. I would go all the time if it were: 1. Convenient (right now it is not), 2. Relatively cheap and 3. (this is the big one) In English. Before I left the States, I had considered purchasing season tickets at one of a number of Seattle theaters. Like singing, I have at times fantasized about being an actor (hasn’t everyone?) and am full of enthusiasm for those who do the craft well.

Tonight I went to the theater. Under duress.

As part of my Swedish language class (along the lines of English Lit 101) I am required to attend two theater performances this term. Tonight’s performance, on the surface, would appear to be convenient as it was shown on the island, about 10 minutes from my house.
Incidentally, my island has a number of cultural offerings that would otherwise seem anomalous to its rural, farming community setting: a major European watercolor museum, current events lectures, book readings of well-known (Swedish) authors, a yacht race in the summer that is more prestigious (in Europe anyway) than the Volvo Cup, which in and of itself is on a high order, Volvo being Swedish and all.

Economically, this performance was in the “affordable” range. 80 kronor translates to about $12 or therabouts. (Don’t quote me because I haven’t checked the exchange rate for a week or so.)

But it was just a painful experience because I didn’t have my translator with me. Tobey worked tonight and I was forced to really listen and pay attention. Usually I don’t need a lot of help, but every once in a while he will provide for me a quick translation, those tedious understandings can make or break my enjoyment of something. And I already knew that it would take me at least half the play to really “feel” the new speech patterns of the actors, something I struggle with whenever I meet or hear someone new.

I got about three-quarters of the way through, when I suddenly realized I had no idea what was going on. I thought, up until that point, that I did. I laughed at the appropriate times, felt what everyone else appeared to be feeling. But then something happened onstage that I completely misunderstood. Or, maybe really did understand it, but in doing so, also had a whole new wrench thrown into my understanding of Swedish culture.

The play was about marriage. But maybe, just maybe, it was about divorce. See, the man got down on one knee, confirming my expectation that this couple, despite their many (many!) problems wanted to renew their vows. The woman looked loving down at him and cried little happy tears (she was grinning from ear to ear). And then, in a grand gesture that made me gasp (loudly!), he asked her: Will you divorce me?

She said “yes!” And they danced and danced…and then started sawing in half the kitchen table.

I missed something along the way. I’m sure of it now.