When Curiosity Comes Out to Play

Yesterday was one of those beautiful warm spring days that seemed to invite curiosity out to play.

Having managed to grab a ticket for the second-last performance of Grimm at the Arts Centre Melbourne, I was already intrigued by the promise of a dark and twisted parade through the stories of the Brothers Grimm. It certainly delivered, but the experience began sparking my curiosity before I had even reached my seat.

Familiar children’s songs were playing in German as I entered the theatre. Hearing songs such as The Bare Necessitiestransformed into German was wonderfully unexpected and slightly surreal. It was as though something familiar had been picked up, twisted around and returned in a completely different form. Rather fitting for Grimm, really.

Throughout the performance, the characters also spoke in German at times, with English translations appearing above the stage. What delighted me was discovering that I did not need to read them because I understood what was being said. 🖤❤️💛

It was one of those lovely moments when you suddenly notice that something you have been learning has quietly taken root. My German had escaped from exercises and word searches and joined me at the theatre.

The performance itself was definitely naughty, most certainly for grown-ups, and wonderfully entertaining. Familiar tales collided, unravelled and reappeared in surprising ways. They were darker, stranger and much more hilarious than the versions many of us grew up with.

Part of the fun was not knowing what was going to happen next. Perhaps that is one of the gifts of curiosity. It allows us to meet something familiar without assuming that we already know the whole story.

That sense of curiosity continued after leaving the theatre. While strolling along the south bank of the Yarra and soaking in the warmth of the spring sunshine, I wandered into a bookshop with no particular book in mind.

Of course, “simply looking” in a bookshop can be dangerous!

Among the shelves, I discovered an Agatha Christie novel I had never read, And Then There Were None. Another display soon caught my attention too: books wrapped in brown paper, each offering only a cryptic clue about what might be hidden inside.

A blind date with a book.

Wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string, the books immediately brought to mind Maria singing My Favourite Things in The Sound of Music. Perhaps that was another reason I found them so irresistible. Books, surprises and curious discoveries are certainly among my favourite things, and these little brown parcels seemed to hold all three.

There was no cover to judge and no familiar author’s name to guide my decision. There were just a few handwritten words and an invitation to take a chance. One clue immediately sparked my curiosity:

“A time caper filled with magic and wonder.”

How could I possibly leave that one behind?

With my two new books in hand, I found a place to sit beside the Yarra and enjoy the warmth of the sun. The mysterious brown parcel did not remain mysterious for very long. There was no possibility of waiting until I arrived home. My curiosity had already taken over, and the paper packaging was unwrapped right there beside the river.

Inside was The Watchmaker of Filigree Street by Natasha Pulley.

Its beautiful cover, with a pocket watch, tiny gears, curious symbols and hints of something slightly fantastical, made me even more intrigued. I had never heard of the book and may never have chosen it if the cover and title had been visible in the shop. By hiding them, the brown paper encouraged me to choose differently.

That was what made the experience so much fun. For a little while, there was no need to know exactly what I was choosing. I simply followed a clue, trusted my curiosity and allowed myself to be surprised.

We often think curiosity needs to lead somewhere useful. Perhaps it should solve a problem, generate an idea or help us make a decision. Yet curiosity can also exist simply because it is fun.

It can encourage us to wander into a bookshop without knowing what we are looking for, choose the mysterious brown parcel, listen more closely when a familiar song sounds different, or notice that we understand more than we realised. It can help us rediscover old stories through fresh, and sometimes rather twisted, eyes.

Looking back, music had quietly woven its way through the day too. It began with familiar children’s songs sung in German and reappeared later through a brown paper package tied up with string. One playful connection led to another, simply because curiosity was paying attention.

Curiosity does not always need a destination or a carefully planned outcome. Sometimes, it simply adds a little more colour, playfulness and wonder to an ordinary day.

One curious choice can spark another…and another…until the whole day becomes an unexpected adventure.

I wonder where curiosity might take me next. ✨