Chang'an Opera

One of the attractions of visiting a new country for me is the possibility of experiencing the performance or fine arts culture there. In my experience, each country sort of does it differently, and it’s really interesting to see foreigners and natives alike come together at these things. So when I found out I’d be in China, Beijing no less, I pretty much knew that I had to go see the Peking Opera—whether my friends liked it or not. Luckily, they were all into it, and enough so that we sprung for the best seats in the house! And since we’re in China, where would those seats be but at the center tea table in the front row. Guys, I think we need to bring this to America.

Our wonderful table.

Each tea table seats five people and while the table itself is a bit underwhelming, the experience around the table was well worth it. For a mere 180 yuan a seat (about 28 US dollars), you get a perfect view of the show, an endless supply of a tea (ours was this amazing jasmine tea), and a plate full of delicious cookies and mooncakes. Of course, we happened to get there just about a minute before the show started, so we were the tacky foreigners making our way to the only empty table at the front as the lights dimmed. In fact, I’m pretty sure we were the only foreigners in the theater.

Even besides the tea table seating, Chinese opera is nothing like any Western opera I know of. First, there’s not necessarily much singing. Only two out of seven acts really featured singers though all of them were accompanied by traditional Chinese instruments. The rest of the performance was divided into spoken story-telling and acrobatics. Unexpected, but extremely awesome. (Imagine if you'd gone to see "Madame Butterfly" and gotten "Enter the Dragon" instead!) 

Second, the instrumental accompaniment was a much more visible part of the show. (I use the label “instruments” a bit generously here because I couldn’t recognize any of them apart from labeling them as woodwind or string.) Instead of being hidden in a pit, the small orchestra, if the term even applies, was seated off to the side on the stage. There also didn’t seem to be much of a dress code for them; they wore anything from t-shirts to button-downs—surprising, given their conspicuousness. And besides that, the same musicians didn’t necessarily play the whole time; there were plenty of change-ups, even in the middle of acts. While this was a bit distracting, it made particular instruments stand out more when an especially enthusiastic or skilled musician was up.  

This act was mostly singing.

This act was mostly talking.

The final trait that sets Chinese opera apart is the actual content and the audience reception. None of us even knew the name of the show when we got there, much less any of the characters, but it seemed to be a collection of a few different stories. (Of course, not all operas are like that.) And audience members at the Chang’an Theater were perfectly happy to clap during an act rather than at the end of one if a performer had done something cool. This was fine, but the trouble was we couldn’t always tell if something cool was happening at a given moment. The skill level of acrobatics and intense instrumental or voice solos were easy enough to identify as difficult, but sometimes the whole audience (except our tea table) would break out in applause after a monologue and we’d have no idea why. Our solution? Drink lots of delicious tea and pretend to know what was going on.

Which brings me to the real highlight of the show—the tea. I’m not sure whether it was a consequence of our late arrival or whether there is just a “house” tea in opera theaters, but we were immediately served a pot of steaming jasmine tea without any menu or order. I’ve mentioned my tendency to go with black tea over non-black tea, and this especially applies to floral teas. Their flavors generally seem to end up being too arbitrary or un-tea like for me, and I can’t recall ever having picked a floral tea over another tea genre. Oh, how the times have changed! That jasmine tea was without a doubt the best non-black tea I’ve had and certainly the overall best tea I’ve had in China. Undoubtedly the opera experience played a part in making it memorable, but the tea itself was fantastic on its own. It very much resembled a green tea, making me wonder whether it was just a floral green tea (Do those even exist? I’ll investigate.) rather than an actual jasmine tea, and it went so well with our light snacks that I finished most of my plate before remembering to take a picture. If I had to pick a type of food to eat with this tea, it would definitely be dessert. (It has a natural slight sweetness and an aroma that could make you fall in love— perfect with a plain cheesecake!) And, like all the other teas I’ve had in China, the same set of tea leaves lasted us ages—the entire two hour show—needing only hot water to revive the flavor. Definitely a genre I’ll be exploring more, especially alongside some mooncakes.

(If you want to experience a bit of our operatic adventure, here’s a bit of the show that Kelsey, a fellow traveler, managed to catch on video.)