An unusual encounter (Singapore)

 

In my Pre-U 1 year at RI (Raffles Institution), I'd go to the National Library to study after classes ended at 1pm.

    One evening, as I was walking out of the library around 6:30pm, a taxi came to a halt in front of it, two Westerners emerged, and the cab drove off.  

    The two men looked around, then asked me, "Is this the National Theatre?"  Ah, the cab driver had misheard them.

    No, I said, and started to try and show them where it was:  go along the road behind us on the slope, go over the bit of hill, then...  

    I decided to take them there, as they were obviously non-local, and might get lost.

    On the way, I found out that they were flamenco guitarists who were due to perform at the National Theatre.  Ah, they were from Spain!  I said, "I know the tune Maria Elena!" and started to hum it.  They recognised it immediately and were right chuffed (presumably because there was something in common between them and a local), joining me in the humming all the way.

    At the door, they thanked me and said, "Come back tomorrow, tell the doorman to let you in.  We want you to enjoy the performance as our guest, to thank you for helping us arrive in time for our performance."

    The show turned out to be by a flamenco artist, presumably famous since it was simply called "Antonio!".

    I arrived the following evening but of course the doorman wasn't going to let me in just because I (a local girl) said two of the musicians had invited me.  

    Luckily, they happened to be walking past the door just as I was about to leave and go home, so I did get in after all.  

    The doorman escorted me all the way to my front row seat, no less, a couple of seats away from a local family – a couple with a daughter about my age (17) who kept casting me curious and most unfriendly side glances, which looked very much to me like, "What are YOU doing here??  YOU don't look like you'd be old enough to be able to afford a front row seat, unlike us!”  (Such was the snobbish and materialistic mentality at the time.  I couldn't help thinking:  if only she could've witnessed how warmly I'd been welcomed by two of the show's artistes at the door – that might have made her less smug about her financial superiority.) 

    The musicians had said to wait for them after the show.  They took me to the dressing room and told all their fellow musicians about me.  They, too, welcomed me warmly.  I was offered a lift in their mini bus, just to spend more time together.  The whole busload of musicians and I hummed Maria Elena all the way to their hotel, where we then parted company.  

    It was a very memorable evening for a 17-year-old local girl who probably wouldn't be able to afford a front row ticket at the National Theatre, yes.

NB:  Maria Elena, written by Mexican composer Lorenzo Barcelata in 1932.  Googling it tells me it's a bolero tune.

(Singapore, 1971)