Lebanese Saga

My former office colleague Jeff will be flying out to Beiruit, Lebanon this Sunday. Yes you heard me right-- Beiruit, presently being heavily bombarded by Israel. He works for the Department of Foreign Affairs and he will assist and facilitate the evacuation of stranded Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) in that God-forsaken part of the world. And you're also right. Our government did not have a contingency plan at all when the fighting escalated. While other nationalities were shipped off to Cyprus by their respective governments, Filipinos were left to fend for themselves. Well, Jeff's going there is part of the contingency plan. A typical "delayed-reaction" response from our government.

If you ask me, I think Israel is turning to be one big aggressor. Sure, Hizbullah is without doubt the provocator, but bombing Lebanon back to the stone age for its failure to contain the militant organization does not seem justified. Israel is making Lebanon pay a dear price.

It is attacking various areas in Lebanon indiscriminately, supposedly enemy sights. A UN outpost in Southern Lebanon wasn't even spared. Unfortunately, there are always heavy civilian casualties. What a waste! Lebanon was doing such a good job in attracting investments and tourists into the region. That's all gone too. Thanks to Israel.

Israel always says it is only defending itself. But by opting a military solution, it only ensured future attacks on its soil. We'll never hear the end of this conflict. I have no sympathy for Hizbullah or Hamas, let's get that straight. But neither do I have any for Israel.

Watch Out for TFAs

The US food industry is currently in a tail spin on account of new labeling regulations enforced by the Food and Drug Administration. Food processors were required effective last January to disclose the trans fatty acid (or TFA) content in their products.

This comes in the heels of growing evidence in the scientific literature linking TFAs with increased risks of coronary disease and diabetes II. TFAs raise serum levels of bad LDL-cholesterol, reduce good HDL-cholesterol, promote inflammation and influence risk factors for cardio-vascular disease. In fact, according to the American Heart Association (AHA), 34.2% of Americans (70.1 million) suffered some form of cardiovascular disease in 2002. It is also estimated that over a quarter of a million coronary heart disease events could be avoided by replacing trans-fats in foods.

TFAs are formed when vegetable oils are partially hydrogenated. Hydrogenation converts the oil into semi-solid state which contains properties such as extended shelf life and flavor stability, and thus ideal for food processing. Cookies, potato chips, beverages, practically all food items that use vegetable oils in it are affected. Margarines and shortening, the main derivative products of hydrogenated oil, are laced with TFAs.

So be careful when buying margarine. It used to be that butter was demonized on account of its higher saturated fats, and margarine the healthier alternative. Not anymore. Margarine has more TFAs, which are even deadlier than saturated fats. In the US and Europe (Denmark, in particular), TFA-free margarine is already available. Here in the Philippines, we have no choice. So I guess for cooking and baking needs, we might as well trade up to butter.

For cooking oil, palm oil is the best alternative since it does not produce TFAs even when further processed, or partially hydrogenated, despite the fact that it contains higher saturated fats compared to soy oil or canola/rapeseed oil. (Coconut oil has the highest saturated fat content among vegetable oils available). This of course is good news for Malaysia and Indonesia, the main producers of palm oil. Recent developments in TFAs boosted demand for palm oil and it is now the most widely traded edible oil in the world.

Denmark has introduced legislation in 2004 requiring all processed food items to limit trans-fat content to no more than 2%, thus eliminating hydrogenated oils in the process.

But since this issue only came to fore in 2003 when Steven Joseph of BanTransFat.com sued Kraft for the TFA content in its Oreos cookies, as well as McDonalds, and the FDA subsequently enforcing labeling rules, the whole food processing chain, from the oil seed growers, to processors, to manufacturers, to the end consumers, are scrambling to adjust to these developments. This is at least the case in the US and Europe.

This has caused a lot of problems, however. To shield themselves from possible consumer back lash, not to mention litigation risks, food manufacturers are scrambling to find new oil seed varieties and oil blends that do not produce TFAs when hydrogenated, or which do not require hydrogenation at all.

The technology that makes this all possible takes advantage of genetic and enzyme modification techniques.

But since consumer sentiment against genetic modification remains high in Europe, EU consumers are faced with a dilemma: how to reconcile their need to protect themselves against TFAs and their aversion to anything genetically-modified at the same time.

I hope our Bureau of Food and Drugs do something about this TFAs as well. Filipinos’ eating habits are in some sense, similar to Americans: unhealthy. We eat with lots of fats, salt and sugar in our diet.

Fur-ry Tale

Miming our family cat first arrived at our house wrapped in a brown paper bag. My father rescued him from some guy who was supposed to throw a whole litter into the deep harbor in the city. I was five years old then and the sight of a scraggly, scrawny kitten rubbing itself against my leg tugged at my heart. I thought he’d make a fine playmate. Miming was a feral cat. We didn’t even know what breed he was.

My father was a practical guy. He brought home the kitten presumably to keep the mice at bay. But our Miming soon got tired of mice and decided that it’s just not his thing. And besides, he got fed regularly. Table scraps, fish bones and his favorite, fish innards. Euoww. He got lots of fresh milk, too.

Cats aren’t like dogs which are too eager to please. Cats simply don’t care. They’d ignore you whenever they want. They’d sit on their asses all day: in Miming’s case, he’d be perched comfortably on the window sill, contemplating his existence and observing his humans, or curled up contentedly in the living room sofa, snoring softly, even when the house was full of piano students during week-ends.

He even went as far as the sleeping right in the middle of my parents’ bed, before my mom drove him out of the room. He got the message alright. I don’t know if we spoiled him, but he seemed so comfortable around us he’d jump right into our laps to be patted while we’re sitting down. He used to sneak behind while we were sleeping on our backs, and slowly crawl his way up and perch his heavy frame (he was getting fatter) on top of our stomachs.

He liked to be carried like a baby, patted in the head, or rubbed under the chin down to the neck. Unlike our dogs which were kept on leashes (stray dogs were shot on the spot, to prevent spread of rabies), Miming was no problem.

He marked the area around the house his territory. We knew because at night, we could hear him fighting with some cat intruder, or wooing some lady cat. He never really strayed far.

In fact, during hot summer months when the entire family would be outdoors, he’d be sunning himself (more like licking himself clean) at some spot where we can see him. Whether my brother was up the caimito or avocado trees picking a ripe fruit and throwing it down my way, or my mom busy replanting her orchids and anthuriums, Miming made sure his presence was felt, too.

He was a comforting companion in the house. He was a silent witness to all my adventures as a kid: the never-ending battles with my brother; fist fights with Re-re and Yo-yo; garbage dump trips with Andy in search of Pepsi caps; endless Bruce Lee, Shaolin and Ninja flicks on betamax (he simply yawned and slept through it), and of course, getting through grade school. I used to include Miming in my bedtime prayers, along with a 5th honor mention at the end of the school year (which didn’t happen because I always ended up 6th anyway).

As he was getting older, he became increasingly finicky with his food, became sickly, and spent more time sleeping during the day, and prowling the neighborhood at night. He’d be gone for days on end, too. I mistook his tendency to eat grass as a self-medicating instinct to cure himself of any cat sickness (I later learned this habit is common to all members of the cat family, irritating their throats so they’d throw up the fur balls created with all that licking).

One night, after a few days absence, his loud mewing meant he was back and that he wanted to be let in. I was getting worried because I felt he might be up to some final “mission” or journey before dying peacefully. My brother and I got that idea from watching all those Lassie and Bingo tapes on Betamax. But he didn’t touch the food we prepared for him; he was only thirsty. And then he left again that night.

We never saw him again.

When you’re a kid, the loss of a pet is a very sad moment. I grieved quietly. Not only because he was anything special, but because his departure seemed to mark a new chapter in my life as well. I no longer liked cartoons and kung fu movies (believe me, these two constituted my viewing diet as a child). I became interested in detective stories (Perry Mason thrillers my mom kept in her mini-library). I started to appreciate classical music (because Air Supply and Menudo gave me headaches). Girls began noticing me (no kidding!). In other words, I was growing up. And Miming probably felt his presence was no longer needed and felt he had to go.

When he lived with us his mere presence seemed to radiate a sense of contentment around the house, you know, that comfortable feeling that suggests everything is just okay.

Chinoiserie

China recently released its growth figures for the first six months of 2006. GDP posted a hefty 10.9% for 6m06 over the same period last year, with growth in 2Q06 exceeding 11%. For an economy that is already the fourth largest in the world, this is spectacular! Investments in capital formation also exceeded 30% (if I remember correctly) as credit continues to surge. CPI only registered a minimal 1.3% for the same period.

Do I believe these figures? I don't know. But I'll give the Chinese the benefit of the doubt. You see, when I was in Canton, signs of growth were everywhere: a flurry of construction activities littered the main highway from Zuhai to Guangzhou, which I'm sure is the same for the Hong Kong-Shenzen area, as well as in the North (Shanghai-Beijing). Office towers and residential buildings were constructed not singly, but in groups, to as many as four (or even more), simultaneously!

The drawback to all these is that some factory buildings and high rises were curiously empty, as if waiting for the onslaught of foreign companies and new businesses taking advantage of China's favourable economic climate of low labour cost and high productivity.

The break-neck speed by which the country is growing is causing a lot of concern. The bubble may likely burst soon, especially if upstarts and inefficients start to be weeded out due to competitive weaknesses and credit growth remains unabated, and should the global economy experience another slowdown.

The growth is obvioulsy driven by exports, rather than consumption-led, as China registered a trade surplus for the period. But what puzzles me is the really low CPI of only 1.3%. How can that be possible, when global oil prices have been very volatile year-to-date, and which is currently testing the US$80/barrel mark. So production costs were only minimally affected?

In addition, China's growing middle class were likely to consume more during the period as well, given their new-found wealth. This is obvious, for example, in the mobile phone market which is becoming the world's biggest. I'm sure the country's per capita PCE (personal consumption expenditure) profile is improving as well, giving rise to increased demand for groceries and household goods. So, how realistic is 1.3%?

I am not an expert on China's economy. But how reliable are its official statistics, anyway?

Lengua Española

I took up Spanish lessons at the Instituto Cervantes a few years ago, not so much out of genuine interest in Spanish culture and literature, but because my good friend Titus dragged me along. And besides, I was a bit curious as well.

The first few lessons were a blast. We all had a lot of fun, tripping and falling over our limited vocabulary, mangling the pronunciation and generally making asses of ourselves. And besides, we all thought Spanish was an easy language to learn because Filipino dialects (Cebuano and Chavacano) in particular, are peppered with Spanish words and phrases.

As you progress however, things take a different turn. The fun time is over, as grammar drills, irregular verbs and idioms take their places. We were forced to listen to audio material at lightning speed, and watch mostly existentialist but dull, avant-garde Spanish movies, although our teachers were kind enough to leave on the English subtitles.

Sometimes, I understood an entire complex sentence at top speed, with clauses, adjectives and tense changes. Then I got so impressed with myself, mentally pat myself on the back, only to miss the next three sentences entirely. Dialogues were worse. With regional accents, word short cuts and colloquialisms, I only understood every 5th word. It doesn't help that native speakers tend to slur their speech.

More often than not, even if you understood every word said, making sense out of it takes time. You see, there is a gap between recognizing the words and actually understanding the entire sentence. In my case, I search for the infinitive form of the verb and then translate everything, literally, into English, before finding what it's all about. *sigh*

You patiently watch news on Television Española, but you tend to flick the remote to CNN occasionally so as to get an idea of what is being reported. Or you watch and try to follow the game shows, with the hosts rattling off at machine-gun speed.

In the beginning, it was awfully strenuous. I comprehended virtually nothing although I could tell where one word ended and another began.

I also bought Spanish-language novels and short stories, but looking at the dictionary all the time and trying to decipher idioms became a taxing, cumbersome activity.

After six levels, my proficiency and comprehension has improved a lot. I have not yet conquered the language, although I can proudly say I am at least a little competent. Should I be put in the middle of Malaga, banished to Extremadura or the Uruguayan hinterlands and the Argentine pampas I will survive.

My reading is so much better than my writing and oral skills. But my Spanish grammar leaves much to be desired. Well, I have no one to converse Spanish with here in Manila.

I also had to stop attending classes because the venue was just too far, and the traffic remains unbearable. Instituto Cervantes transferred its offices even further off, to UN Avenue.

The consequence of shifting languages in the course of one day can cause your brain to misfire: Cebuano with my family, Tagalog with my friends, English with my work partners and now Spanish. Like sending a SMS message containing all four languages!

But I consider myself lucky. My former office colleague, who’s ethnic Chinese, speaks Fookien at home, Tagalog and Cebuano with her friends, Mandarin and English at work, and she’s so far advanced in her French classes at the Alliance Française I think she really has language overload. You know, like we start a conversation in Tagalog and end it in Cebuano, with English in between, liberally spiced up with plenty of French and Spanish.

We’re going bonkers.

Still, I hope to see the day, and experience the magic moment when I will finally conquer the language, when the brain clicks and you do not have to strain yourself to catch every word, or sweat everytime somebody speaks to you in a rapid fire manner, when you finally relax and express yourself confidently without sounding like an eejit, when the door is finally laid open for you to step in, inviting you to be part of a new and exciting world.

I am not there yet, but I will be.

Darker World

I caught an interesting feature on BBC last night. You see, much has been said about the green house gases that causes global warming. However, another phenomenon recently observed has been found out to cause disruptive changes to climate conditions as well: global dimming.

It reportedly caused the great famine in Ethiopia in 1984 when the monsoon rains failed to come in the Sahel. It is likely to happen again, this time, in the heavily populated Asian region where monsoon rains are the lifeblood of the largely agriculture-dependent inhabitants, if nothing is done to halt its ever taking place again.

Independent studies from Israel, Germany and Australia have found a deceleration in the evaporation rates as well as the level of solar radiation, which leads to a “cooling effect”. This of course, was a paradox on account of the global warming phenomenon which was supposed to heat up the planet.

The culprit was found to be air pollution. Impure particles attributed to air pollution blocks out the sun from penetrating the earth’s surface, even reflecting back the light into space, thus the “dimming”. The consequence altered the direction of the tropical monsoon rains in Africa since the cooling off the oceans in the Northern hemisphere, due for the most part to the air pollution radiating from Europe and North America, prevented monsoon clouds from forming.

Unfortunately, the dimming phenomenon was found to be shielding the planet from the more potentially devastating solar radiation on account of global warming. This does not mean an endorsement to pollute, however, since it has clearly catastrophic consequences.

It seems that the planet is in a no-win situation, isn’t it?

It’s a pity that the US, the world’s biggest polluter, chose not to ratify the Kyoto agreement that would have secured commitments from US industries to reduce effluents.

Conundrum

There comes a time in your life when you make life-changing decisions. Leaving your job and moving to another country are some of them. But being involved in relationships are definitely on top of the list. Unless you’re in it simply for the adrenaline rush, getting out of one is definitely a hell lot more difficult than getting into one. After getting sky-high with the romantic part, personalities start to clash as priorities begin to conflict. The psych-war, or the war of the roses, rears its ugly head. When two outspoken personalities collide, hell will have to freeze over before one relents and gives in.

But when do you say enough is enough. When the going gets tough? What if the seemingly eternal conflict that threatens to tear you apart is precisely the only thing that binds you together? What if that is the only thing that you have in common? Is it worth keeping?

When senseless debates have replaced playful banter, when the funny appears insulting, when the seemingly innocuous suddenly becomes catastrophic, in other words, when a dream becomes a nightmare, what do you do?

But what if, paralyzed by fear, of being alone, of being left alone in the void, you’d be willing to pay whatever price to avoid being in a limbo. Is being in prison really a better deal than being out there in outer space, with the stars and all, but all alone?

How do you navigate a seemingly turbulent passageway? Would you prefer to meander through life leading a boring existence of quiet afternoons, 8 p.m. bedtimes and righteous 7th Heaven lectures, or would you rather plunge yourself into vividly colorful episodes full of drama, suspense and even soft porn, but would probably send you straight to hell?

He's No Saint

The head-butting incident involving French forward Zidane and the Italian defender Materazzi during the final World Cup match had a billion tongues wagging all over the world. Behind the cool and placid exterior lies an explosive temper. What transpired between the two? What could have prompted Zidane to turn back and proceed to mow his bald head onto Materazzi’s chest? Clearly, he was not pleased, but what could Materazzi have said that caused the star of the World Cup, the guy who clearly steered his team from near-oblivion to the brightest stage in the tournament, to lose his nerve, blow his top and snap?

And in what language?

Let us speculate.

The Italian must have muttered something relatively innocuous under his breath. Like “baldy”, or “your breath stinks”. Maybe even mildly threatening, mean but meaningless names such as “asshole”, “m**ther-f**ker”, “son-of-a-bitch”, or even I’m-gonna-clobber-you-and-kick-your-ass-‘till-kingdom-come, must be in French or Italian, of course (I know, I might be talking about American football). But players do this all the time. Cursing and calling each other names pumps up the adrenaline. Perhaps, it was really offensive, like racist remarks such as “terrorist” and “Al Qaeda”, since Zidane has Algerian roots, or against his family. Maybe, Zidane simply got sick of the fact that he’s being romanticized and idolized like he’s some saint, and he wanted to prove that he’s not. And he doesn’t seem to freakin’ care what people might think of him.

Whatever it is, the two are not talking, yet. FIFA plans to investigate, but until then, we can only speculate. Amazingly, some networks can’t wait. They hire the services of lip readers and try to decipher Materazzi’s comments to Zidane. I’m not even going into that.

As for the language, it was Italian, hands down. French is notoriously difficult. And besides, Italian is a lot like Spanish, easy to understand. Not to mention the obvious fact that Materazzi, who clearly provoked Zidane, is Italian.

Also, Nadal lost to Federer in the Wimbledon Finals, the opposite was true during the preceding Roland Garros. By the way, Federer looks like my Spanish teacher from Cuba at the Instituto Cervantes.

World Cup Thoughts

The World Cup fever has not really gripped these islands. Nope. During the early rounds, bars which advertised live broadcasts at the unholy hours of 2 or 3 a.m. were abuzz with flies, literally. Some establishments had to drive away the few customers who bravely stayed up to watch the games. The triple Bs rule here: basketball, boxing and billiards. But not football.

As the game entered the final stretches, these same bars suddenly found themselves with cheering customers, expats and locals alike. Some friends, who I’m sure didn’t give a flying fig about football before, suddenly became overnight aficionados, dropping names like del Piero, Totti, Henri, Zidane, Figo, Beckham, Rooney, Ronaldhino. Oh, ok.

The same phenomena can be gleaned from the South Korean and Japanese fans. A decade ago they knew nada, zilch, zero, about football. All of a sudden, when both countries co-hosted the World Cup in 2002 and even during the Group matches, rabid screaming fans suddenly emerged from nowhere supporting their equally unheard of national teams.

I have this feeling, watching on TV the Korean fans’ reactions, especially the cheering squad antics complete with boy-bands, that all these over-the-top silliness is just an excuse to party and has really nothing to do with their innate love for the sport. I mean, for crying out loud, do they even a professional football league to speak of? Before the 2002 event Japan and Korea didn’t have enough football stadiums to host the event, they had to build new ones.

Compare that to the Europeans and the South Americans who treat football like a religion. For these East Asians, they’re merely trying to copy the experience and replicate the fun other nations are having with the World Cup. They ostensibly didn’t want to be left out of the party. They desperately wanted to be part of the euphoric celebrations. Pretty much like how they celebrate Christmas, yes they have the lights and the decorations, but missing the spirit.

Here in the Philippines, surprise, surprise! The provinces are more into football than Manila. The southern provinces, such as the two Negroses, Bukidnon and Davao, in particular meet regularly for football events in Dumaguete, Bacolod and Del Monte.

I remember clearly my first attempt at soccer. I was in third grade and it was ten o’clock in the morning. The boys were supposed to be preparing for the coming intramurals the following week so we kicked ball. There was absolutely no sense of team work, we simply chased the ball, scrambling to kick it to somebody’s face.

Anyway, everybody avoided Ambrose when he kicked the ball, because he wore tik-tak shoes, you know, those sturdy and oh-so-shiny, black leather shoes by Bantex and Spartan, which makes a tik-tak, tik-tak sound as you pass the corridors and the hall ways because it felt so heavy. We didn’t dare risk our legs getting assaulted by his killer shoes, our rubber shoes were no match to his tik-taks. It was also the first time the ball hit me right smack in the gut. I was so shocked and taken by surprise, not to mention the painful grunts, that I remained speechless for a few minutes, wondering where my breathing went. That marked the end of my soccer career.

Anyway, I was unhappy when France edged out Spain in the penalties. I cheered when Portugal beat England. I always knew the English team was just a beneficiary of the media hype. The same is true with the Germans, but since they’re the host, they stand to benefit from the home court advantage. The real deals are the Italians, the Argentines and the Brazilians. Sadly, the South Americans have been eliminated.

I’m rooting for Italy this coming Sunday. They deserve to win. Despite the on-going controversy that may see some of their players playing in Serie C when they get home, they played a beautiful, heart-stopping, even nail-biting game against the Germans. As for the French, they do have Zidane and Thierry Henri, and Zidane’s making his very last appearance on the finals, a script that is almost Hollywood perfect, that is, if France wins and he made another goal.

Verdi: AIDA

Giuseppi VERDI: AIDA
Libretto in Italian by Antonio Ghislanzoni
Opera in four acts
First Performance: Cairo, Egypt Christmas Eve 1871

Teatro alla Scala, Milan, 1985
Lorin Maazel, Conductor
Maria Chiara, Luciano Pavarotti et al

Metropolitan Opera, New York City, 1989
James Levine, Conductor
April Millo, Placido Domingo et al

When I spotted a DVD copy of the 1985 La Scala production of Aida in Zuhai, I bought it immediately, as my Quiapo copy of the Met production didn’t have English sub-titles! I had to rely on the synopsis to get myself immersed in the story. Something is lost, however if you fail to follow the lyrics, such as the poetry and the dramatic intent, as well the performers’ interpretation and characterization. So now I get to compare the two.

About the opera: Aida is no doubt among the grandest masterworks ever composed for the operatic stage. The concept alone is huge, set in the time of the Pharaohs’ Egypt- it requires massive sets replicating tombs and pyramids. The two opera houses’ productions were equally impressive, it was obvious they spared no expense to mount this work.

In the famous Triumphal March in Act 1 (the music we are so familiar during graduation day), La Scala staged a procession to dwarf all processions: looted treasures, heroic statuary, miserable captives struggling under the lash of whip-bearing slave drivers. The Met however went an extra mile, employing hundreds of extras which included a troop of ballet dancers, a couple of horse-drawn wagons (with real horses!) and soldiers in full-battle gear. It was a huge spectacle, even on DVD.

Also, La Scala used the first ballet music scene to accomodate pranks by kids who brusquely interrupt the languor and peacefulness of Amneris' bath in Act 1 (the women were shown bathing topless!), and later to accompany some heavy labouring by slaves in the triumphal scene. The Met chose to stage ballet numbers instead. The La Scala production was obviously the one to beat until the Met upstaged it four years later. But I think La Scala’s was more appropriate.

Verdi composed Aida as a commission from the Khedive of Egypt, who wanted to create a huge spectacular entertainment to coincide with the opening of a new opera house and more importantly, the opening of the Suez Canal. He achieved this to perfection, proving to be a huge international success.

The libretto: It is about two lovers belonging to different sides of the fence. Aida, an Ethiopian slave to the Pharaoh’s daughter Amneris, and the Egyptian military chief, Radames, falls in love. Radames, however, conquered Aida’s country and held as prisoner its King, Amonasro, who is also Aida’s father. Unfortunately, Amneris, is also in love with Radames and the Pharaoh intends to marry her off to him.

When Amneris learned of her slave’s affections for Radames, she threatened her and so Aida decided to tell Radames to channel our Romeo’s affections towards Amneris instead, which he refuses, of course. Sensing a dead-end, both decided to abscond, but their plans were overheard by Amonasro, and a while later, by Amneris. Aida and her father escaped, leaving Radames behind to face the wrath of the Egyptians.

Radames was condemned to be entombed alive by the priests, despite pleadings from Amneris. Aida, however, sneaked into the tomb to join her beloved in death. Ok.

What’s great about this opera is the striking balance between vast spectacle and intimate moments. Amid the ballets and grand marches, and despite having characters that may be pseudo-historical and far removed from ordinary life, the story remains very much human: the gamut of emotions and the conflict it generates are dramatized in full force. It is after all, a tragic story of love, jealousy, and horrible revenge.

The music, of course is glorious. It has so many beautiful melodies which have always provided a formidable challenge to the world’s most eminent opera singers. It is however, an opera for heavier voices, meant for those who have spent some time singing on the stage and not for lighter voices and new comers.

The performance: Maria Chiara (La Scala) and April Millo (Met) displayed similar characterizations. They even look alike, and even their gestures, which bordered on the annoyingly dramatic, mimic each other. Both are dramatic sopranos with heavy, round and almost metallic voices equipped to handle Verdi’s difficult vocal demands, which requires full-throated, dramatic singing that runs from the whisper-like pianissimo to the full-volume stratospheric top notes.

Millo, however, was more successful in showing the contrast in styles present in the big arias Ritorno Vincitor (Return as Conqueror) and O Patria Mia, especially the heavenly pianissimo part which was so delicate and masterfully controlled, it was like a search light in the dark.

Although Domingo can outlast Pavarotti in heavier roles like Verdi’s Otello and Giordano’s Andrea Chenier, Pavarotti fared very well compared to Domingo here. The opening big aria Celeste Aida (Heavenly Aida) with its frightening high C is clearly a difficult one to sing, but Pavarotti, who is at the height of his career, managed to hold on to the high note a wee bit longer than Domingo. I really wondered how he managed to hold his breath that long. It was even better than his San Francisco performance.

Understandably, the audience went wild. Pavarotti’s heavy frame, however, was so evident sometimes it can be distracting. It didn’t help that in one of his outfits, his armor looked like fish scales, which made him look like a giant gold fish with a tiara.

The two Amnerises did equally well, both mezzo-sopranos, they held their own and managed to steal some of the spotlight themselves.Whereas Dimitrova’s (La Scala) was so intense, possessive but maternal, Zajick’s (Met) was luscious, spoiled and feminine. That’s the thing with Verdi. Even the support roles require really accomplished singers, he gives them great but no less difficult music to sing.

As for the chorus, I felt La Scala was better, but New York held on to the orchestra due in part to the enthusiastic conducting by Levine.

Verdict: Although New York spent a fortune on the production, I think both productions did equally well, all in all.

Both productions are highly recommended.