Lions, Songs & Metamorphosis: A Musical Weekend in Hamburg

This weekend, I finally fulfilled a long-held dream: to see The Lion King musical, which has been playing in Hamburg for 25 years. What was supposed to be a single show turned into an entire weekend. A weekend in a city I once lived in with Lucas—months of shared life, and places that still echo with memory. Back then, we often walked along the Elbe. Today, I’m trying to overwrite those chapters with new and beautiful ones.

What began as a dream to finally see The Lion King turned into a journey through memory, grief, joy, and healing.

The Echo of the Past  & sitting with ghosts.

I take my seat, excited, as the chirping of crickets transforms the space into a tropical dream. The Lion King has been one of my all-time favorite movies since childhood. I remember sitting in the cinema, wide-eyed, as the pelicans flew over the savanna. That image burned itself into my memory. Even then, I dreamed of one day bringing something like that to the screen myself.

When Lucas and I lived in Hamburg, we tried several times to get tickets—but they were always outrageously expensive, far beyond what we could afford at the time.

The row I sit in is full—except the seat beside me. I picture what it would be like if he were sitting next to me now. Just then, a man makes his way down the aisle and sits beside me. He has dark hair, dark skin, and wears a black leather jacket.

From the corner of my eye, his silhouette blurs into something familiar, and for a moment, it feels like Lucas is sitting next to me. The silence between us echoes those countless times we sat in heavy quiet after a fight. That kind of air—thick and unbreathable.

Once, we had visited the Philharmonie together, despite having had a fight shortly before. He had insulted me, I had defended myself—which only fueled his rage further. It escalated. We walked to the concert hall in silence, listened in silence, and walked back separately, because after the performance, he vanished without a trace. Days like those weighed heavily on our relationship.

And now, a stranger—unaware of the storm his presence stirs in me—reminds me again: I don’t want to live like that. As deep as my feelings for Lucas still run, tonight I am grateful to be alone. To take in this show fully and freely.

The Lion King

From the very first notes, I shiver with joy. The costumes and set design—abstract, modern—even after 25 years, still breathtaking. I turn my head and watch a herd of elephants calmly pass by, making their way to the stage. The South African folk songs woven into the performance cut right through me. Later, I learn that many of the performers were cast directly from townships, bringing with them their own songs in Xhosa.

Leading them is Bongiwe Happiness Malunga, who plays Rafiki with immense strength. Her vitality and humor draw the audience straight into the heart of the story and her voice vibrates through my whole body waking up every cell.

MJ – The Musical

Just when I thought the first night had already hit its emotional peak, I was proven wrong. The second night belonged to MJ, the Michael Jackson musical. I was skeptical—how do you even begin to bring a legend like him to life on stage?

People can say what they want about him—but he was, without question, one of the most significant and brilliant musicians of all time.

The show opens with a dance rehearsal. “Bad” starts to play. Dancers move into rhythm. And suddenly, Michael—played by OXA—enters and seamlessly blends into the group. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. The way she moves, the way she sings—it’s like seeing him in real life. The man whose music I grew up with. The man everyone associates with something personal.

Even in the dramatic scenes, she captures his essence so precisely, it feels like a backstage pass into his life.

When “Smooth Criminal” kicks off, someone in front of me throws their hands in the air. The women beside me can barely contain themselves—they dance in their seats as much as space allows. During a scene where Michael’s father berates him violently, the crowd starts booing. That’s how deeply pulled in we all are.

The stage design. The choreography. The seamless transitions. Every detail is executed to perfection. Days later, I still carry the energy of that evening and would watch it again in a heartbeat.

& Julia – Rewriting the Ending

The grand finale of my Hamburg musical weekend was & Julia—a continuation of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, where Juliet decides against dying with Romeo and instead chooses herself. A bit metaphorical, I thought, to end this journey of rewriting my past with a story so rooted in self-determination.

Some time ago, I too stood at that edge—faced with the choice of going down with Lucas or breaking free, stepping toward healing, and ultimately back into life.

Today, I sit here, grateful to soak in life in all its fullness. Like Julia, I’m still on my path. Far from the destination—but I’ve taken the first steps.

I saw Julia standing at the edge of the stage, screaming her song into the crowd, asking herself: if love ends, do I end with it? But she chose herself. She chose life. And lived a richer life than she ever imagined.

And I did the same. I chose me. Even with the pain that came with it.

The performance is fantastic. It’s a matinee, which means the actors perform twice in one day—once at midday, once in the evening.

What’s unique about this musical: instead of an original score, it’s built around beloved pop songs from the ’90s. Almost everyone in the room connects with at least one of them. When a version of “Everybody – Backstreet’s Back” starts, a group of women leaps to their feet and dances.

The show is outrageously funny, brilliantly acted, and pure joy. By the end, everyone is on their feet, dancing to the final number. I look around and see nothing but smiling faces.

Final Curtain, Full Heart 

The weekend leaves me glowing and full of joy. Filled with music, art, and emotion. It reminds me again of the power of performance—and how tragic it is that in times of financial strain, it’s often the arts that are cut first. But that’s a topic for another day.

For now, I’m simply grateful I gave myself this gift. Even if I had no one to share it with, I was enough.

Each show reflected part of my story—and part of my healing. Like my favorite scene from The Lion King, when Rafiki hits Simba on the head with his stick and this dialogue follows:

Simba: Ouch! Why did you do that?

Rafiki: It doesn’t matter—it’s in the past.

Simba: Yeah, but it still hurts.

Rafiki: Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the way I see it, you can either run from it—or learn from it.

I choose to learn from it. To nourish myself, to protect myself, and to carry the wisdom to not choose pain, but instead embrace life. To be thankful for what I receive. To love myself.

I came for a musical. I left with a revelation.

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Be well,

Vaselisa