away. around.

On the 36th floor of a tower of a Radisson 'Bluh!' in Lyon, with views over the city. I plan to leave my curtains open tonight so that I can awake to sunshine in the morning. The sign on the door says this hotel room goes for 245 euros a night. All the same, it's a funny mix of really fancy and incredibly run-down. I can see weird liquid stains on the wall (on further inspection I think it is red wine), and the closet clearly hasn't been remodeled since the hotel was built in the early '70s. The doors don't close properly, the paint is all scuffed up. But the desk console is new within the last ten years, probably, and the bed is outfitted as fancy beds are in this kind of hotel, with a simple white duvet cover over the bedspread. And out my window is this:

Turned out that room wasn't so good for sleeping. Uncomfortable bed, hard flat pillows. But, here's what I saw in the early morning hours:

And then the next sunset. Couldn't help but document. Not often I find myself in Europe's tallest hotel.

We are in a more modest hotel tonight, and the window opens, and I'm expecting a good sleep. Tour is funny. I won't want to do it forever. I feel like I'm collecting experiences for the next part of my life, which will have a smaller radius of activity. At least geographically. I like it though, now. Still working it out. What to bring, how many pairs of pants, what kinds of snacks. (Best not to talk or even think of food right now.) 

*****

What a funny random life I'm living! Tonight in Perpignan, in an Adagio apartment-hotel, several of us bought food and cooked for each other, and a few others, the orchestra's English-speakers. Finally, a lovely in-house meal. The main street here has palm trees. Palm trees! And on the train, out the window, I saw flamingos. In the wild. Where am I! And to think, not ten days ago I was in  Scandinavia, doing whatever one does there. Riding a bike. Cooking at home. Drinking beer. Wine in France, yes, can be extremely cheap. Not to mention the heaps of produce we bought for 5.50 euros. Where am I? Is it weird that I still feel that way? Today on the bus I happened to be sitting behind our Venezuelan percussionist, who was watching clips from the World Series. GO GIANTS!!! I got so excited. Why am I so far away? From everything? I don't know. It's just like this. Well, good night, Perpignan. Sleep well.

*****

We are back in Basel, bass and I. Cold, clear weather. Done with traveling, and traveling mishaps, for a few days at least. The Giants swept the World Series. I made some colorful soup to celebrate since I couldn't be part of the riots. This morning I relinquished my Swiss residency permit. Not without a touch of sadness. The man who deregistered me was the same one with whom I registered, nearly three years ago. I mentioned this, he confirmed, and said he was pleased to be able to close the circle of my time here. At my going away party, my first roommate, Celine, made the same comment -- she had been at the airport to pick me up when I first arrived. Recurrence of circular awareness by native Swiss people. A key to their culture? I'll tell you what is a key, it's called yogurt, and it is so incredibly delicious here.

But maybe these snapshots are not sufficient. It hasn't been clear how to rally a sufficient summing up into writing. I live in Copenhagen, actually called København, a port town. From certain vantage points you can see giant cruise ships in the harbor. I haven't been yet to see the Little Mermaid. One of the main streets is named after H. C. Andersen, the first two letters of which are pronounced similarly to Jose. (Latinos in Denmark! But not enough to make a proper taco.) It is often very windy. It often rains, just a little. I live with my husband in an apartment which we own, on the top floor of our building. We are furnishing it simply, and trying to make good decisions. It is very sunny in the morning, when it is sunny. I noticed, in the first month and a half, how drastically the light changes day to day. In Oakland I was able to tell the time by the position of sunlight on the wall in front of my bed. All attempts in Copenhagen were confusing at best. Soon, I hear, it will be very dark for much of the day. And work? Yes, it is beginning to happen. The city has three professional orchestras, plus the opera. Malmö, just across the bridge in Sweden, has an opera and an orchestra, for which a new hall is being built. I've had a week of work with Andrew's orchestra, and one in Helsingborg, the Swedish just-across-the-water from Helsingør, just a bit north of us, maybe by an hour. Also, I continue to work in middle Europe. Now, for instance. I am in Basel. Cold, clear Basel, preceded by ten days in France, in a variety of climatic conditions. Imagine, packing a bag for three and half weeks in which the weather would range from 65 and humid, to 28 and snowing. I did ok, at least so far. Mostly I don't have to travel with both suitcase and bass. But sometimes. Although I repeated to myself something I'd overheard once, about the cold not being related to catching a cold, two hours in freezing weather waiting for a delayed train doesn't seem to have done me any good. I am sipping homemade ginger tea and looking forward to my hearty colorful soup later. Also two baths in two days. Making up for the bathroom situation back home.

In France it is very easy for me to not get proper food to eat, being a vegetarian (though, admittedly, I did see an ad in the metro for a sort of veggie burger, so maybe things are changing?) and after a week of miserably eating large portions of bad food, or small portions of not much at all, I was extremely hungry. I ate a few bites of chicken off a friend's plate, out of desperation. And then I decided to be content with less, and specifically not to overeat, even if I wasn't sure when the next meal would be. Oddly, this helped me to be less hungry.

One of my closest friends in Basel is quite pregnant. I will go to see them tonight, and bring over that colorful celebratory soup. We have spent a lot of evenings together, over the two years of our friendship, watching movies and cooking and drinking wine. Sometimes three or four times a week I'd be over at their house on Oetlingerstrasse. Before long, there will be one more of them, maybe not for the wine drinking but for all the rest of it. 

And language? How funny to be back in Basel, surrounded by Schweizer Deutsch (Shveetze Dootch!) while preparing to begin to think about learning Danish. I'm reading a book written by a linguist, about the ways in which differences in language are reflections of differences between cultures, and have noticed so far the appearance of many a prominent Danish linguist. From a country of 5 million on a good day, it seems surprising to have such a wealth of language studies but maybe it has to do with the silent letters (33%!) hiding among, to the American ear, a host of very foreign sounds. Which reminds me of something else, a German friend of mine was watching television with his grandmother, and someone from the US was interviewed. The grandmother asked, 'Do they really speak like that? RruRruRru!' Ha. Yes. We do. 

You know, in Denmark we have these really serious windows that do a decent job of keeping the heat in, despite their size. But these old Basel windows, while charming, aren't quite cutting it. Though they're not even comparable to the windows at Monte Vista, rattling in their frames as the wind blew through. One of them even had a tiny bullet hole (the work of a BB gun?). Good old Oakland. 

What else? A beautiful morning in Lucerne,

delicious Korean food (& kimchi!) cooked by my friend ZY,

a burrito in Dublin,

colleagues in Dresden's Frauenkirche,

winter out the train window,

and boy, aren't those long shadows for 3 o'clock??

Unterwegs

I can scarcely believe it, but my things are under way to Denmark. In fact, they may already have arrived. The mover (note my use of the singular) pulled up at 20 past eight last night, after what was certainly a long day of traffic on the unpleasant, crowded, and construction-complicated German freeways. (The lack of a speed limit hardly matters at times like that.) But right away we set to work (note my use of the plural), moving things downstairs and into the trailer he had attached to an SUV. By the time it was all in place, I regretted not having more to move - the trailer had plenty of space left over. Some light fixtures! A side table! Bookshelves, chairs, a spare bed! Where were they? It's ridiculous when I think about it, of course, since we've talked about keeping our stuff content to a minimum. But the possibilities to transport things between Switzerland and Denmark! Also, really, by the time it was over, I collapsed in relief at not having more to move. Up and down! All those stairs! After two days of double rehearsals of Beethoven 6 (cue the Storm scene)!

Well. It's all gravy from here, as they say. (Rainy gravy, at the moment.) I have two concerts left, and some vacuuming, I guess. And then back to CPH and our new flat. Andrew, what a trooper, has enlisted several friends to help move everything up to the fourth (read: fifth) floor on Saturday. Oh, sorry guys, I don't show up until Sunday night! Anyway, I guess I still put in a good amount of work. My calves and ankles can confirm that statement.

Following are a few photos from my time here. The Rhine in the morning, a kitten, bass on a train, lunch at my favorite bakery, dinner with friends in their garden, and a couple photos to give you some idea of how obsessively organized I was for this move. Because, frankly, you never know.
You know?

Shortest post ever

from my real, 2-day summer vacation in Basel. How about that late summer sky! Looks even better from the grassy lawn of the swimming pool.

the Situation

'The Situation' is what a bride calls her wedding when she doesn't want to be called a bride and hates 98% of the associations with those monstrous, ridiculous, overblown occasions called weddings. We had our Situation this July, and it was exceptionally nice. Small party, close friends, perfect weather, amazing location, and contradancing with a great band. Can we do it again?

 setting up, the day before.

 friends decorate. (note the bunting banners, made by her mom!)

everything is funner with glasses

 she does flowers.

 they play some jazz,

 she reads a poem,

they sing a song.

vows renewed! with his aunt as officiant.

and then: dancing!

to copenhagen, in transit.

On a train, on my way from France, via Germany, home to Copenhagen. 

Or, was on a train, until a moment ago. Now am on the Princesses Benedikte to make the ferry crossing. Last time I made this trip it was February, and already dark by the time I left Hamburg, a poorly designed and generally aggravating train station, so I didn't get to see the isthmus hamlets and fishing villages on the way to this point. There were fawns in the hedges today, and rabbits in the fields, and seagulls flying with their chests to the wind. And a truly responsible amount of energy being generated by the giant white wind turbines, not to mention solar panels on barn roofs. 

I think everyone else from the orchestra has already arrived home. It would be nice to find a solution for future work 'on the Continent' that doesn't include a day's worth of train travel, nice as it can be. 


It's funny, train travel is pleasant, good, relaxing through Switzerland and most of Germany, but Hamburg marks the beginning of the stressful, loud, annoying, and pushy part of the trip. This portion accounts for nearly 6 hours of travel. A second instrument might solve the problem, I could leave it somewhere in middle Europe and fly to pick it up as needed. We'll see how often the need arises. Already I know I'll be doing this again in three weeks and the thought doesn't excite me especially.

There are a lot of people milling around on the deck. An old man has a video camera, old-fashioned style, to film (?) the blue gray water going by. It looks bright and windy out there. The girl sitting next to me has some pretty incredible paisley-printed jersey pants on. Lots of people wear Converse shoes. Dudes have plaid shorts and tight t-shirts. Small blond children wear hand-knitted sweaters and chew on dried sausages. I wish the iPad had a hyphen on the main typing screen. 

Tour was nice. Schubert and Schumann with La Chambre Philharmonique. We only played two concerts, the second was last night, in a spa town in Germany called Wiesbaden. It's upstream from Basel by about two hours, and still has 14 active hot springs. I went to two of them, one of which was in the hotel, and the other just up the street in a completely restored Art Nouveau-era building. That one is 'Textil frei' but don't let that stop you, you can just scurry from sauna to cool tub to hot tub to Roman sauna in your towel and disrobe at the last minute. The steam room has this incredible old-fashioned mechanism for creating steam involving a bucket of rocks, a bucket of water, and a counterweight. I spent a lot of time in the Roman/Irish sauna, it's not as hot as the Finnish version and was empty except for me. There were well proportioned and sturdy wooden chairs around the tile room, and a translucent skylight. It was the temperature I like to be. I'm considering talking to Andrew about converting one of the rooms in our (small) apartment into a room like that, with those plant lights that give off vitamin D. We'll need a lot of tiles and will have to commit to rather high heating bills. I think it will be worth it. 

Wiesbaden has been a wealthy town for a long time. The concert hall, located in a casino (and a very short walk from both the hotel and the spa), is an extravagant example of a high budget. There is gold everywhere, the ceiling is adorned with a frieze of Apollo and his golden chariot, 

and surprisingly unfussy chandeliers. In the back hall, where we connected to our dressing rooms, there are more Jugendstil friezes and structural pillars decorated with mosaicked stones and sea shells. 

I think one could unironically call this hall spectacular. Not so great to play in, though; I found it hard to hear people playing even halfway across the stage from me. It was better with a full audience.

decoration idea for our new place??

Back on dry land, two aptly named wagtails move around on the platform faster than my eyes can track. Behind them is a wind turbine orchard. I eat the entire big ass Snickers bar provided to me free for traveling first class and regret it.

The soloist was Renaud Capuçon, a youngish Frenchman who looks like he came to the hall directly from his yacht. He played our entire rehearsal with his collar popped. This morning, waiting for the train north, one of my German colleagues asked if I'd listened to the girl who spoke to the audience before our concert; I hadn't, so he filled me in. First she called him by the wrong name, announcing that he was his brother (he's a concert pianist). Then she said the audience was lucky that he had come from his holidays to play just this one concert. What an odd thing to say. Was she making an apology for his playing? The audience was unamused by her speech, and clearly appreciated his concerto in spite of her introduction.

Before Wiesbaden, two days in Grenoble to record Schumann Symphony 4. It's a beautiful town. Completely flat, surrounded by abruptly rising mountains all around. The beginning of the Alps, I think. The fast train from Paris takes 3.5 hours. I'm told driving takes 7. Spent my birthday there. The train ride back was delayed by an hour and a half; everyone was happy to travel on the clean, on-time German train the next day. 

Before that, a concert in Saint-Riquier, a town in the Somme region of France, where we played in an Abbey formed in the seventh century. I just wrote it out so you didn't think I meant 17th. The skull of the dude, Saint Riquier, was in the church. I didn't take a picture of him because I bet he gets that a lot and I didn't want to be just another mortal with a camera. 

We were participating in an annual music festival, and they had set up cameras and video screens all over the place, including two screens ON STAGE. As if it wasn't already confusing enough, the video image had a small delay, so when the conductor was on screen, I had to try very hard to focus on the man, and not the man behind the man. Not ideal.

no pressure.

And before that, four days of double rehearsals in Paris. Ate some incredible Indian food, plus the normal bread and cheese that is the staple diet of A Vegetarian in France. Bought some little shoes in the big sales that happen every July. Also visited an English book store that was two weeks away from closing its doors, and so selling its entire inventory for 50% off. Was recommended this book, Forests: The Shadow of Civilization by Robert Pogue Harrison, a professor in Italian literature at Stanford and an impressive historian and thinker. The first section presents a sort of creation myth of civilization as having emerged from the forests; explores attitudes towards forests in antiquity through mythology and tragic plays; and finishes with an explanation of the fall of Rome as being directly related to the systematic deforestation of what was formerly the most fertile area of the world, transformed by over-farming, ship building, and a lack of interest in conservation into a sun parched desert that could no longer support a great civilization. He includes extended quotes from Homer, Gilgamesh, Euripides, and David Attenborough, among others. And I'm leaving out a lot. The book requires some work to read, intellectually, but offers some payoffs.

I just saw the bridge that connects Copenhagen to Malmö, we look so close, but still have an hour to go. Alas.


More photos up on the flickr page, as usual.

counting down

Today is Sunday. A week from Monday, I'm boarding a train with a suitcase and the bass and doing my best royal wave out the window at the generous, quirky, charming town of Basel. Last night an Irish friend asked if I'm looking forward to 'upping ship' and the emotions are mixed, of course. After six months of being apart, I'll finally be living with my husband, in a cool town with fantastic local beer and a variety of work options. But the ship leaves from a really great place to live, peopled by friends. Anyway. My goal for today is to fill some boxes with some stuff, tape them up, make up some kind of clever organizational tool, and put everything in the attic until we can move it up to Copenhagen. Then go practice the harpsichord and play a concert with 220 high school choristers. (I'm right in front of the sopranos. My goodness they are loud.)

Since February, which was a long long time ago, I hiked a mountain with my mother and husband,

gave a recital for my Master's degree,

 

organized and taught a print workshop here in Basel,

spent some quality time in a hammock,

bought some incredibly beautiful furniture at a thrift store (brockenstube) which looks something like this, but is getting new upholstery at the moment:

and speaking of new upholstery, my mom and I spent an evening taking the old foam away from the springs, picking out dozens and dozens of staples, and scrubbing the edges with a toothbrush:

 and finally, long ago now, I watched the trees bloom. We even brought some inside.

I'm happy to say that I have one exam left, tomorrow, and if my fingers behave properly (it's a harpsichord exam) I'll be finished with all the requirements for my Master's degree. I'm not sure if that makes me a 'master' or not but at least it means I'll be done with school.

Then I'll have time to do important things, like swimming in the river.

I can't wait.

Post-Order, Cold-Weather, Situation-Clarification

Hello. There has been a dearth. The reasons are twofold. First, it's cold over here. (Needs no more explanation.) Second, everything I write sounds idiotic, inane, unpracticed, uninteresting. Several posts were started and left to moulder. But now I've decided that I don't care, I'm throwing them up online! Take that lovely image and keep it in mind when you read the posts that follow this one, they are from as many as four months ago. Anyhow. Here I am, in Copenhagen, future home of Megan. I took the train, with my bass. It's scarcely gotten above freezing for the entire time I've been here. Pity the Californian. There has been a good deal of faffing, practicing, waiting for Husband to get out of work, hanging out with Husband and Other American Musicians, going to concerts, minimizing the amount of time one must spend outside. Before I awoke this morning I dreamed I was walking through a park in late spring, I could feel the warm air on my skin. My feet were bare, the grass was a little damp. Plants were flowering. The leaves on the trees and bushes were so clear in their different shapes and hues of green and they moved in the warm breeze. Andrew's voice was asking me if I was ready for toast and tea. I opened my mouth to utter a noise like a sick sheep before rolling over to recapture the Better Season. When I was in London (see two posts down) I had about 45 minutes to visit the Victoria & Albert museum before meeting a friend. I made my way past the miniatures, through the stained glass hallway, to the print room (boring), and then on to the tapestry room, which was darkened and humid, like a greenhouse. On display is the collection of Devonshire Hunting Tapestries, and one in particular had so many different kinds of trees, all their leaves made clearly recognizable, and the sea, with whitecaps that looked like clouds. My current roommate in Basel, June, is leaving in a month to be an intern with the textiles collection at the V&A. I'm jealous. Looking for those tapestries exposed a third reason for the continued post posting delay: the internet is too damn distracting.

The day I left Basel it snowed so beautifully. At least when it's snowing the weather seems less depressing. On Saturday, I'm getting on a train in the evening so that I can arrive in Paris the next morning. I have a week of work in France, playing two Haydn symphonies (The Bear and The Chicken) before I return to Basel and begin working in earnest on my recital program. That's right, folks. I'm nearly A Master. What I have not yet mastered is riding the bike we found for me here in Copenhagen. It's one of these silly upright-style bikes with foot brakes (remember those, from when you were 5? Exactly.) and a basket and some little flower decals on the body. I think it needs some anarchist stickers or rough-talking decals to make me feel less like an overgrown child. Last night riding home in the cold I kept thinking, This is so stupid. And, also, Don't die. I know it will get better, I'll grow accustomed to the bicycle, the weather will warm up, snow will turn into rain, plants will make their leaves and wave them around in a warm breeze. Any day now. Seriously. Oops. I mean, Yay! Winter!