I went to the Sydney Opera House. Be jealous.

There I was, standing on the steps of the Sydney Opera House when all of a sudden: DOUBLE RAINBOW: All the way across the sky. I kid you not. It consisted of two complete arches--one of which I could clearly see hitting the ground just beneath the Botanical Gardens. These two rainbows were the best rainbows I have ever seen in person. A bit later, everyone's attention was drawn to the sky once again. Large bats had replaced the double rainbow, flying overhead. Meanwhile, I sat down eating some fish and chips and drinking the Australian energy drink V. And that was how I began my visit to the most famous opera house in the world.

I'd bought my ticket to go see Tim Minchin, an Australian musician and comedian of whom I'm quite fond, about a month ago as soon as I saw that it was on sale. Fearing tickets would sell out quickly, I bought mine without really seeing if there was anyone else interested in going. This turned out to be a valid fear as the show quickly sold out soon thereafter. Thus it was that, after finishing my food and drink, I walked alone to the doors of the illogically structured architectural wonder and promptly found my way to the loo. As if the double rainbow, the bats, and the massive arches of the outer shell of the building were not enough, I knew I was in a truly special place as soon as I saw the sinks. A long white counter with dips in it stretched across the length under the sinks. The water sprayed directly onto the counter, flowing down into the dips. This, in itself, was a fascinating design element. And then I went into the concert hall.

I stood staring at the immensely high ceiling, the thousands of seats around the hall, the wooden walls, and the brilliant lights shining down onto the stage. It was only after this that it clicked where the usher had taken me: nearly dead center, in the second row. I sat down, finding out that even the seats were structurally wonderful. In my opinion, there are three criteria that make up good seats: they must be comfortable, aesthetically pleasing, and, most importantly, they must leave plenty of legroom. Somehow, the red-cushioned, wooden-backed seats of the Opera House concert hall managed to fit all three criteria.

But enough about the architecture and design. I was there for a show, not to marvel at the incredible infrastructure of the venue. The orchestra filled up their seats and a violinist came downstage right, a brilliant white light shining on her as she played a solo that gradually built up. Then, Minchin's voice rang out: "Yeaaaaaah. I'm in a cage!" And a black veil that had been covering a large box on stage about 5 feet in front of me was removed to reveal the ginger-haired man himself. The show consisted of a fun mix of music and comedic gags, making fun of the audacity of a comedian playing with a symphony orchestra in a gigantic arena style concert hall. Foul language abounded throughout the show. Minchin made fun of religions, races, women, and just about everything in between--though perhaps his most frequent target was himself. I've known much of his music for a long time now and so I knew what to expect. He's offensive but hilarious. And I'm fairly sure the man really loves the world--that's why he makes fun of it so much.

Tim is Australian, after all. Part of the job description of Australian appears to be: "Make fun of those people or things that you love." And I saw that mantra carried out thousand fold at this concert. Minchin kept poking fun at the conductor--at one point he took the baton and went into a discussion about how it kept making him think the conductor was Harry Potter. But enough about the humorous side of the show. After all, Tim Minchin does have a dark side too.

During the show's interval, Minchin changed out of the white shirt he'd worn at the beginning. When he returned to the stage, he wore a black shirt. During a few introductory words, he told us all that, while the first half was all fun and games, the second half, as indicated by his wardrobe change, would be much more serious. He then preceded to "accidentally" mess up the next song humorously. But here's the thing: even though there were still plenty of laughs throughout the second half of the shows, Minchin didn't lie. The songs got darker and a bit more serious. While still quite funny, almost all of them had a good deal of subtext to them. And they got me thinking.

Minchin sang about the world, living in it and loving it for being the world we live in. He sang about the difficulty of creating something beautiful in the modern world. He sang about loved ones being important. I laughed and smiled a lot during the show. I was seated in an incredible building, in an incredible city, watching an incredible performance of a comedian and an orchestra. And I found myself thinking about home.

I love Australia. I've been here for a little over a month now. I'm making good friends and getting to do all sorts of wonderful things. I have a public transport pass that allows me to take as many buses, trains, and ferries as I want during my stay. I've been to several great museums, I've traveled to Canberra, and I get to travel to the Outback and New Zealand. I've been working on several awesome theatre pieces, having wonderful opportunities unlike any I've ever had back in Tennessee. But Tim Minchin hit a chord within me as he sang about the importance of home.

"You will learn someday that wherever you are and whatever you face, these are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world."

The song these lyrics come from, White Wine In The Sun, has been my favorite of Tim's for as long as I've been a fan of his. It was the first song I ever heard by him, but tonight was the first time it really felt true to me. The song continues, discussing that, even when you're nine thousand miles from home, your loved ones will still be waiting for you to come back. Well, I am quite literally nine thousand miles from home--more than that, actually. Thinking about that almost makes me a bit melancholic. Tim's words made me miss friends and family.

But that's part of what this trip's all about. I have lived in the same place with the same people for twenty years. It was time to get away from home. It was time to open myself up to new things. And Australia is providing that wonderfully. I'm having a blast. I'm getting to see incredible things and visit incredible places. I'm even getting to wash my hands in aesthetically pleasing sinks. But most importantly, I'm getting to forge wonderful new relationships that I'm convinced will last for many years to come. And all the while, there are people waiting for me back home. Knowing that's true is a wonderful feeling. But for now, I'm in Australia and these new relationships are just starting. And I can already tell: by the time I get back to Tennessee, I'm going to feel like I've left another home nine thousand miles away. Despite the melancholic tinge, that's going to be a beautiful feeling. That feeling will probably be almost as amazing as a double rainbow.

PS. After the show, I got a 50 cent cone at Macca's, which is Australian for McDonald's. Yum.

PPS. I'll post about the Canberra trip sometime in detail. It was epic. We watched a senator call another senator a garden gnome.