Is St. Petersburg Joining the Ranks of Other Great Arts Cities?

I park on 3rd Street and 1st Avenue North for free and walk to the Mahaffey. Follow the pedestrians across the street and along the massive sidewalk lined with trees that deposits us at the main entrance.

Less than five minutes go by from the clicking of the car door lock to saying hello to the smiling face at the box office. I pick up my ticket to see the Florida Orchestra and linger before making my way to my seat.

Row 18 is perfect.

First a Brahms Serenade. I find out later it's an early work, written when Brahms was 24 and skinny. Quiet, mesmerising.

Intermission and Henry Adams, Associate Director of Communications, stands smiling and talking in the lobby, greeting everyone who wants to say hello, ask questions, get involved.

Outside, the main attraction is the new Dali museum that seems to float in the darkness across the grassy courtyard. Is this London? Is this Montreal? It's not New York; it's too intimate, too pristine. Can't believe it's St. Pete.

Brahms helped Dvorak get published back when he was still a nobody. 

Then the famous Dvorak Cello Concerto, with the cellist right next to the conductor playing like a god and holding back nothing. Deep wildness.

The Cellist, Mark Kosower, began playing the cello when he was one and a half.

When it's over, there's yelling, shouting and jumping. The place is thunder.

I walk out with the crowd back to the car and there's no traffic. No jam. Just a breezy cool December evening with a Dvorak finish.