awake at 5:20, on my way by 6:30, off the train in Egg at 8:50; or, The Morning Commute

Hoo boy, I wrote a whiny post about trains when I got home this afternoon. Sorry about that, just the kind of blogger I never wanted to be. Good lord. How mortifying. For anyone without Google Reader (or similar) be glad you missed it, and enjoy the following humorous signage from one of the trams this morning:

(my personal favorite is the figure with the saw.)

The opportunity to see the country, under the auspices of going to work, is pretty awesome. This morning I had a performance in Egg (which means corner, or overlook) at a church there.
Unlike the other performance, we played today during the church service; selections from the Bach cantatas were interspersed throughout the two hours. Not speaking German gave me plenty of time to stare at the stained glass windows and think things over. Highlights of the morning certainly included the jazzy Swiss-German rendition of "He's got the whole world in his hands" though I admit I got a bit bored during the 40 minute explanation of Fair Trade goods (one thought: did I just hear the word banana?).

After the service, I thought I'd take advantage of the trip through Zürich, and the cellist of the group, my new friend Zin Young, showed me around a bit. We were limited, of course, by the bass situation; I did get a new shaft for the wheel, but it's too small for the endpin block and so is constantly turning itself around. Anyway, here is the Zürisee, AKA Lake Zürich. It was a bit rainy.

Zin Young, cello, bass, walkway by the lake (which is just to the left here).

The best part of the day, certainly, was the half hour between the Vorprobe (dress rehearsal) and the start of the service. I made my way out to the churchyard, where it was lightly raining. You could barely see the beginnings of snow-covered mountains out in the distance. At 9:45, the church bells began to ring; there were five, maybe six, they began as a triad and then kept adding notes at the bottom. It was wonderful to be alone on the grass, looking at the mountains through the mist and rain, surrounded by that overwhelming din. For all the times I think about home, about what it is like to be a foreigner (Auslander), to not belong, to feel strange and surrounded by strangeness, there is a moment like this.