The highlight of recent months was undoubtedly the Comedie Francaise performance in Budapest. Back balcony, about $7. Amplified, but still, the Alexandrines -- the verse. (Marred slightly in one scene by the older woman a few rows down pulling open a beer tab to the general amusement of the section. I imagined her to be an anarchic former actress of the company.) Not a touring production, a cultural exchange of a recent show. A brief glance at the distant homelands of the spirit -- 'but to whet thy almost-blunted purpose.' Looking further back, the Normandy Moliere piece and the Noh pieces at the Transylvanian theatre festival brought similar, and similarly brief, illuminations.
In the depth of the winter in the Jedi city, I survived by purchasing a month's access to the London stage tapes web channel -- just listened to (and occasionally watched) the tapes from the last two RSC seasons: the λεγειν. And Wodehouse adaptations from time to time. Preserving the ability to reach into experience with the mind. We weren't put here just to survive the experience.