snowing prettily

Right now, actually.  Big fluffy flakes, and enough of them to seem dramatic.  The last time I saw this much snow was on stage during a performance of the Nutcracker.  It's nearly sad to think I won't be doing my annual 10 services of that; I'll even miss it.  I am, of course, onto a new phase of my life; here in Europe, you get multiple performances of Bach's Weihnachtsoratorium, the Christmas Oratorio.  My first will be in Winterthur in a couple weeks.  It seems long.  I'll let you know how it goes.

I took this picture yesterday as I rode the train to Zurich, for a Bach B-Minor Mass at the Tonhalle.  It's a truly great hall.  It also has some truly impressive chandeliers.  And I think this photo gives you a good idea of the size and general feel of the hall.  Not huge, but with a certain warmth and quality. 

Ah, before I forget, Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  A group of Americans here in Basel had a nice dinner, it was just like any family gathering--people unwittingly acting out their roles as the crazy uncle, the bossy older sister, the mildly annoyed cousin.  There was a turkey (which had been draped with bacon prior to baking; apparently it was especially flavorful) and gravy, two kinds of stuffing (one vegetarian), three salads, two kinds of mashed potato, and for desert, three pies: apple, pecan, and pumpkin, with vanilla ice cream and hand-whipped cream.  I ate too much apple pie (couldn't stop) and quickly transformed into the annoyed cousin until, several hours later, I became less physically uncomfortable.  I would have laid down on the floor but it didn't seem appropriate.

The night before I had had my first ever raclette, which is a Swiss "recipe" that calls for pouring melted cheese over boiled potatoes.  The complicated part comes when you're actually melting the cheese; there's a device that looks like a parking garage plus a grill that you plug in and set on the table.  It's got these shovel-like scoops that you fill up with cheese, then slide into their parking spots, under the heating element, which melts the cheese.  On the top of the garage you can - what, grill? toast? sear? who knows - put - different things like zucchini and mushrooms, or better yet, bacon and ham, to get cooked, which can then be draped over your melty cheesey potatoes.  It's important to have white wine on hand so that the cheese doesn't turn into a hard lump in your stomach.

What I mean to convey here is that I'm really porking up.  Watch out, folks, the next Megan you see may be a real fatty.  Prepare yourselves.  On the other hand, I do so much running around with a bass that I must be (at least partially) offsetting my fat intake. 

At any rate, I'll have to watch it because it looks like I'll be having some beach time in southern France this summer.  Turns out that audition went well, and I got accepted to the festival.  Heyy!  Maybe I'll be able to make it through this long, cold winter after all, by imagining the month I'll spend in hot, sunny Aix-en-Provence.  Here's what Cézanne had to say about the area: "I go to the country every day. The scenery is beautiful, so my days pass more pleasantly here than anywhere else."  Sweet.

busy week

This is one of those weeks.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Rehearsal from 10 - 2, then an audition, then rehearsal (for a different project) from 6 - 9.  The audition went OK.  It was for a festival in France, they round up (by audition) an orchestra and a cast of singers and spend the summer putting together a production of an opera, then spend parts of the next fall taking it on tour.  It's well-paid.  They take just one bass for the orchestra.  So I'm not going to hold my breath waiting to get it.  But I did practice a lot.  It went as well as it could have, considering my crazy morning, commuting with bass (not too far but up hills and on trams and down long blocks), trying to put together a quick CV, and warming up for about 3 minutes.  I could feel my legs shaking under me, and hear myself giving inane answers to the questions I was asked.  It was video recorded (though not the question-answer session, thankfully).  Maybe it was better to have been running around before hand; I had less time to get nervous.

In the evening I had the second rehearsal for a Haydn Schöpfung (the Creation) I'll be playing in Basel, my third Schöpfung of the year.  This one's got something on the others I've done, and not just because it's local; it's with a boy choir.  It's really quite different.  When rehearsal started, you could see on the faces of everyone in the orchestra, we couldn't keep from smiling; there's something about their voices.  Also, they're damn loud.  It's a Wall of Sound.  I tried to find a good video of them on youtube but everything up was shot by a parent, and so is invariably from a terrible angle, with bad sound.  One of them (a bit of Messiah) shows my favorite kid (that I could see last night), one of the little ones that sings soprano.  So earnest and cute!  One of them was wearing a t-shirt with a dinosaur on it; my favorite was wearing stripes.  Then there was a kid wearing a shirt with the Wheel of Fortune board on it, on which it was spelled out, "G_  F_CK  Y__RS_LF" and the text at the bottom, "Would you like to buy a vowel?"  Yes, a kid.  This happens elsewhere here, too; at the fall fair, you could hear loud disco songs being played that drop the f-bomb on every chorus.  Oh, German-speaking world.  It's not that they don't know, I think, but maybe just that it doesn't have the same impact?  Weird.  Anyhow.  It's fun working with these kids. 

I don't have any new pictures.  It's mostly white-gray and rainy outside.  (Weird how I only want to show you the city when it's pretty and sunny; I also manage not to take pictures of the ugly parts, like all the smokestacks right on the French/German border, from the pharmaceutical companies, or the refuse-burning station.  I'd say they mar the quaint skyline here.  Everyone tries to ignore them.  So now the secret is out.  Sorry for any bubble-bursting there.)  In other news, I found a pool close to school, and have been swimming a couple times.  It's pretty great.  I'm starting out conservatively so I don't end up with arms too sore to raise over my head (it's happened before). 

Hmm, wait, here's a food picture for you: this chard, carrot, tofu, ginger, garlic thing I put over delicious tiny noodles from the Asian grocery, with cilantro.

absent, and return

So, I know, it's been a while.  I got sick, last weekend, I guess.  Then I had kind of a lame week.  Too much not-understanding makes for a sad Megan.  I've upped my per-day studying amount, I hope it sinks in quickly.  I want to know what's going on in my classes.

As usual, a lot has happened since I last wrote.  Is this how my life used to be?  I was certainly busy, but maybe I had less to report, since the things I was busy with (like ancient printed books and playing Mahler in cow-towns) were too commonplace to mention.  Anyway, duh, now my life is all *foreign* and weird.  Today, for instance, I traveled to Frauenfeld (have I mentioned Frauenfeld before?  I played some Haydn there not too long ago.  North of Zurich) to go to the Buch- und Handpressen-Messe.  In other words, a hand-printing and artist's book fair.  Wait, that's not so unusual, I've been to these before.  (2 hrs from closing on the last day, everyone's got a glass of red wine...)  OK, I take it back.  Some interesting stuff! 

 

 

 I wanted at least two of these little books.  They were only Fr. 25.- each.  Shoulda.  Next time.

I'm starting to get a handle on how to recognize Swiss typographic design.  Sparseness, using type elements in decorative or artistic ways (for instance squares, circles, curves, etc -- things beyond just the type), using clear and basic colors (black, blue, red).  I had neglected to take out any cash before I went, which was probably a good thing, since I would have spent it.  I didn't buy anything, but I did come home with a few things.  I learned, for instance, about something called Gautschen; once upon a time, you did your apprenticeship with the type shop, and learned how to become a setter, or a caster, or a printer, or whatever.  Then you would get grabbed, at some unknown-to-you place and time, and thrown in a fountain.  Kind of like a fraternity hazing.  Then they'd give you a certificate, and you'd be a Real Printer.  I made the mistake of telling one of my local printer friends that I had never been Gautsched (how'd you like my Engli-fied German?!?) and he warned me there might be a dunking in my future.  I asked him to wait until summer, if he would be so kind.  Near the end I met a British printer who lives near Munich, who had seen my books at the Druckwerk table ("I asked the woman why there were so many books in English and she had no idea") and we had a nice chat, as often happens with native speakers.  After some probing he found out I also play bass, and then he told me I wouldn't be able to do both music and printing, if I wanted to be really good at either, and he said I knew it.  I guess so.  I told him I try not to think about it.  Ahem.


What else?  Well, a couple days ago my friend Maria had to turn pages at a concert at just the same time her mom was arriving at the airport on a plane from Transylvania, so I offered to go pick her up.  We had a jolly time!  She doesn't speak English, but has some German, and so we were able to ask basic questions (How Was Your Flight, When Were You In Basel, etc) until we got back to Maria & Sam's place, and I pulled out some paper and a pen.  Then, hoo boy, we got onto the big topics, primarily Hungarian culture, independence, and the way the war subjugated the culture of Hungary.  Observe this diagram.  1956 is the year of revolution.

You can see how the country, which was formerly quite large, got carved up into smaller sections.  The dot in the middle, which is technically in Romania, is where she lives.  Speaking Hungarian, while being forced to learn Romanian, etc.  Some generations-old angers; this all happened after the first WW.  Then we started talking about just one of the many things she brought as gifts from home: curds.  Or, if you're speaking Hungarian, Topfen.  Does it come from a cow, I asked?  "Kuh?"  She said no.  I didn't know the word for goat, so I "Baaaanh"ed and she said no, "Baaahhh."  Ah, of course, sheep.  So I drew those little pictures to make her laugh.  It was successful.  Then I tried to say that I used to buy curd at my local farmer's market (shout-out to Grand Lake!) and I couldn't get it across in my limited German, so I drew the man with the veggies.  She got it.  Phew.

And we had a little bit of awesome weather.  THANK GOODNESS.  I thought I was going to be slowly dulled by the gray, gray days entering my soul, like a melancholic parade of blah.  There was a rowing race on the Rhein on Saturday, what lucky planners of said race.  People got excited about it.  Yelling from the banks, etc. 

Not everyone was yelling, of course.  I think this girl had just about the right idea.

Last night I had the pleasant experience of falling asleep to the sounds of my radiator percolating away.  Sounded like crickets.  Reminded me of the more rural times in my life.  I slept soundly.

Civic Pride

Photo taken Monday, the day the Giants won the World Series.  As far as I could tell, I was one of two people in the entire city wearing a baseball cap, and certainly the only girl.  People kept looking at me.  I felt  more than a little self-conscious.  But you know, it's worth it, to show some civic pride.  That is an Oakland neighborhoods t-shirt, by the way.