Gig

I haven't written in a long time. I've thought about writing, but nothing has struck me as terribly exciting or unusual. I've been very busy with rehearsals, lessons, and some gigs, but it's all just part of the daily grind. I did a gig this past weekend for Pfingsten, or Whit Sunday - the seventh Sunday after Easter. I don't really know why it's important, but it's a national holiday nevertheless in all of Germany, and everything is also closed on Monday, or Pfingsten/Whit Monday. We played in a town called Rheda-Wiedenbrueck. It's 1.5 hours from Detmold so we stayed overnight at church choir members' houses. I stayed with a very nice couple - middle-aged with three daughters in their early 20s. They were very suburban, "All-American" types; it sounds strange to describe Germans as All-American, but I can't find a better description for people who are all about the 2.5 kids + a dog deal. The mother has been practicing yoga for the last 10 years, which I found way cool. I've met too many people who are very Christian and actively attend church, and claim that yoga is something from the Devil, so this was a breath of fresh air. Christians in Europe tend to be a lot more liberal than Christians in the States. On Saturday night after the mass, a choir member and her husband hosted a church potluck dinner/BBQ in a barn on their pig farm. We even visited a Mama sow who had just given birth to 13 adorable piglets. I felt like I was in Aledo again (a tiny town of 3,000 in the rural Midwest where I grew up until the age of eight). During the mass, I observed that one of the priests in the church (which was a massive old baroque-styled cathedral...quite beautiful) was Indian. I didn't speak with him, but just heard him reciting liturgical texts in German with a strong Indian accent. It was interesting because I've never met/seen an Indian Catholic priest in India or America, let alone in Europe. I would have liked to meet and talk to him in person, but I didn't think it'd be a good idea to walk up to the altar in the middle of Mass! Sadly, I have nothing more to report. I have been reading The Onion, though, lately, and that's got a great deal of humorous things to report. Check it out: www.theonion.com xo

Pain & Bach

We are currently rehearsing and eventually performing (this weekend) Bach's Mass in b minor. By we, I mean the school's baroque academy, so we're playing with baroque bows. Like every other musician, I have always held Bach as a sort of god on Earth, but besides the Ciaconna for violin (the piece that made me want to play the instrument), I've not felt as moved by Bach's work as this Mass. It deals with existential questions of "Who are we?", "What is life?" and so on. For me, however, it also addresses a big part of life on Earth - pain. I'm reminded of a quotation I read: "Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional." If you listen to Bach's b minor Mass, you will hear, in the more anguished movements (particularly "Qui tollis peccata mundi" or "Who takes away the sins of the world"), something reaching out and continuing. From this dark and deep point of the Mass, the music and motifs come forth and are actually reborn. Rebirth and rejuvenation are not ideas only from the east - they're found everywhere in Bach's music. And you find these ideas most often in the desperate and forlorn works. I think this idea indescribably beautiful. And hopeful. You don't have to suffer with pain. You just have to learn from it and channel the energy towards creating something new.

Amsterdam

I had an interesting weekend in Amsterdam (one of the best cities in Europe). I left on Saturday and had to spend nearly 3 hours on the train next to a Pakistani man who kept asking me for my age/phone number/marriage prospects, and then just babbled away with bad breath in Urdu. He blasted India in half the conversation, saying that we're the reason why he can't visit India although he has an Indian visa. I was trying to be nice, but at one point, I finally exclaimed, "Okay, I'm going to sleep. Bye." 1). Why do men think that asking for your age/asking you to guess their age is a discreet way of picking you up? 2). Harshly (and ignorantly) criticizing my country is not going to help your case, buddy. The weekend was fun. Monday was Koniginnstag, or Queen's Day, a celebration of former Queen Juliana's birthday. It's become one of the biggest national parties in the Netherlands, and my goodness, Amsterdam was raging. Everyone wears orange, and basically drinks from sun-up to sun-down...think Marathon, er, Patriot's Day in Boston but with many more millions crowding the streets. There is loud music from hip-hop to techno (mostly techno) blaring on the streets, vendors & carnival/amusement park rides (including this crazy gizmo called Booster that Nick made us try out...it's a massive roller coaster arm that turns you upside down at 5 Gs hundreds of feet high in the air, and makes you pray that the seat fastener is properly working), and drunken debauchery everywhere. The Dutch, while a hearty & friendly bunch, aren't what I'd call the most elegant types. Although quite trendy and 'hip,' they tend to be bigger in not only size but also volume. I really like Dutch when Frederika & Maaike speak it, but to hear it yelled and cajoled on the streets is not so pleasant. I suppose any language is like that, though. We ate Mexican on Saturday night, I cooked Indian on Sunday night, and we then stuffed ourselves with pure grease on Monday. I was a bit disappointed to have not seen one of Amsterdam's many famous museums, but ran into a massive crowd as we didn't properly plan on the right time to go (early in the morning when the museums first open). Amsterdam is a liberal's heaven, but a smoker's nightmare...I've never reeked so much of stale cigarettes...or stale pot, for that matter. On Saturday night, we attended a birthday/salsa party of a Spanish pianist in Nick's girlfriend Yuko's studio. It was really fun - a tiny room full of Spaniards gettin' down with salsa. I talked with a nice French girl for awhile who confessed that she wanted to dance but "felt a little too French and embarrassed!" I told her that she's still Latin and could do better than a German...and to my humiliation, a German was standing next to her! He was a good sport, though, and laughed, admitting that Germans many times don't know what the heck to do if they hear salsa (they're often worse than red-blooded Americans)..."Usually, we just look for more beer!" I got lucky on that one! Today on the train, after reading in German, I had the sudden urge to finally "enjoy a reading experience!" and quickly bought a copy of National Geographic in English. I was immediately depressed. The April 2007 has a special report called "Global Fish Crisis: Saving the Sea's Bounty." It was all about how fisheries have overfished to the point where nearly 90% of some species of fish are depleted...90%!!!!! The report addressed economic problems, environmental problems, problems in developing nations (areas around Europe, Japan, and northern U.S./Canada are so depleted that these nations are going to the African coast to fish...leaving nothing for the millions of Africans who rely on the fish for protein and other nutritional benefits), and so much more. I know I can't change the world, and I know that many of you don't want to read another heavy entry of mine (sorry! This journal is a good outlet for me! :) ), but I just wish people would realize that if they became vegetarians or simply lowered their consumption of meat, we wouldn't need to kill the planet the way we do! Consider this: fish could be left alone to their own ecosystem, untouched and not bothered. This would regenerate the ocean's ecosystem and restore proper levels of fish populations in the waters again. Eating less (or no) beef & livestock (don't even get me started on the horrors of the meat industry and how they slaughter) would mean that we don't need to deforest in order to create ranches/grazing areas for cattle - this would save the ecosystems of forests around the world (for example, the Amazon, to name a major environmental concern) and hundreds of creatures who rely on the forests for survival. Also, nearly 2/3 of the grain supply in the U.S. goes towards feeding livestock; this food could go towards the millions of ordinary people who starve everyday in the world (the U.S. included)! I often hear the argument that "vegetarians don't get enough protein. Vegetarians have unbalanced diets and cannot survive as so." OH really? As far as health goes, so many diseases that humans suffer from would be lessened in strength and numbers of cases (heart disease, bacterial agents in meat causing infections and internal complications), people wouldn't have problems with obesity, and the human diet would be far more properly balanced with greens, fruits, and other vegetables. I understand that in earlier times, people in middle Europe needed to eat meat because there wasn't an availability of fresh vegetables/fruits before...these things simply don't grow in this part of the world due to unfavorable climate conditions. However, life today is different. I buy at the outdoor market every week in little Detmold in our main square and find an enormous variety of fresh fruits and vegetables. Spices, once only found in specific regions of the planet such as the Indian subcontinent, are now plentiful and readily available. Eating a vegetarian or less-carnivorous diet is also much cheaper on your wallet (bums in Boston would scowl at me many times when I offered them apples or fruits, insisting that they "need a Big Mac...I can't eat all that sugar!") So...why the resistance? Do people really 'NEED (OMG I'm craving steak, I'll die without it...ahhh!)' meat?? Another point that the National Geographic article raised was about our attitude towards the ocean. I quote: " 'Cruel' may seem a harsh indictment of the age-old profession of fishing - and certainly does not apply to all who practice the trade - but how else to portray the world's shark fishermen, who kill tens of millions of sharks a year, large numbers finned alive for shark-fin soup and allowed to sink to the bottom to die? How else to characterize the incalculable number of fish and other sea creatures scooped up in nets, allowed to suffocate, and dumped overboard as useless bycatch? Or the longline fisheries, whose miles and miles of baited hooks attract - and drown - creatures such as the loggerhead turtle and wandering albatross? Do we countenance such loss because fish live in a world we cannot see? Would it be different if, as one conservationist fantasized, the fish wailed as we lifted them out of the water in nets? If the giant bluefin lived on land, its size, speed, and epic migrations would ensure its legendary status, with tourists flocking to photograph it in national parks. But because it lives in the sea, its majesty - comparable to that of a lion - lies largely beyond comprehension." --National Geographic, April 2007 We seem to think that because we don't live in it/don't see it, the ocean's well-being doesn't affect us. I used to babysit for kids who thought that while playing hide-and-go-seek, as long as they can't see me, I can't see them. Unfortunately, that's not the way that the problems we've created in the ocean's ecosystem can be dealt with. I'm not insisting that everyone must be vegetarian (although for the aforementioned reasons, I think it'd be great) - I realize that's impractical. One billion people, mostly from developing nations, rely on fish for protein and other nutritional elements. I just think that we could use some more fairly enforced rules and regulations, i.e. allow the African people to eat their own fish instead of stealing it for a wealthy American couple dining at Tru Restaurant in Chicago who really doesn't need it...

The Russians

I once read that death claims in three. Rostropovich was one of the greatest musicians, cultural/political activists, and mentors the world ever saw. I implore you to read this New York Times obituary if you don't know much about this amazing man: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/04/27/arts/music/27cnd-Rostropovichcnd.html?pagewanted=1&_r=3 Yeltsin was the first president of the Russian Federation, or modern-day democratic Russia after the Soviet Union broke up. He served from 1991-1999. My memories of him are mostly the images that flickered across Peter Jenning's ABC News Tonight. He led Russia during a difficult time (post-Soviet Union) and that took a great deal of courage. Frederika's grandmother was a very intelligent woman. She was one of the first ladies in university to have studied science (she was a prominent physicist) and she also spoke four languages fluently. I didn't know her personally, but I find it amazing that she made significant advancements in areas that did not welcome women easily. Rest in peace. Thanks for everything. In other news, I'm just busy with chamber music rehearsals and my routine. The weather has been a blissful 75-80 F everyday (22-26 C). I'm heading to Amsterdam tomorrow for three days to visit Nick and observe the happy celebration of Queen's Day in the Netherlands. Apparently there are millions of flea markets all over the streets and everyone gets quite drunk. Hmmm. Should be fun. I leave you with a quotation by Rostropovich. In an interview with National Public Radio from 1987, he said: "My mother carried me for 10 months. I tell her, 'Mother you have extra month, why you not make for me beautiful face?' And mother tell me, 'My son, I was busy with make you beautiful hands."

An Offering

Candlelit vigils, Kleenex, insensitive news media, American violence, gun control, murder, capitalism and democracy, 157 Iraqis, loneliness, college campuses and their supposed joie de vivre, immigrant difficulties, terror, Korea, Holocaust, professors, dorm, students, outrage, shock, grief, isolation, Virginia, fear.. Silence. On our refrigerator in Chicago hangs a serenity prayer called "Desiderata". I recall staring at it, bleary-eyed, while sitting at the kitchen table and finishing papers on a late-night wind during the high school years. One sentence stays with me, and I hope it will forever: "In all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, the world is still a beautiful place." All I can do now is just breathe and search within for compassion.

Listening to Rent

Unwinding after a...well, a pretty light day :) I practice about 5 hours a day here, but I'm hardly ever ragged and turned topsy-turvy like I constantly was in Boston. I used to run around like a chicken with no head and certainly no caloric break/sustenance from classes to rehearsals to work to gigs to errands to Whole Foods to Back Bay Yoga to Harvard in order to squeeze in some time with Lakshmi to Symphony Hall to NYC for the weekend to the MFA for a cultural 'break' to Music Espresso to NEC for lessons to the freakin' Cape for a concert to...where, the moon???? Yes, all that in one day. Whereas in Detmold, I wake up, do my hour of yoga, shower, enjoy a nice breakfast, and practice from 10-1. The siesta here from 1-4 annoyed me at first, but I actually really like it now. It literally forces me to make time to eat, read, study, cook dinner for later that night, and just enjoy my life. For example, I sat outside under 70 degrees of warm sunshine in the beautiful garden (I think that my house was planted right smack in the middle of Frances Hodgson Burnett's "The Secret Garden"...well, minus the whole English rose garden thing) and read Harry Potter in Spanish for two hours. I can't remember the last time I did something like that. It was probably in Chicago; definitely not in Boston. Busy bee Boston. It's often warmer outside than inside the house! This isn't because of the American tendency to keep the house air conditioned to the point of creating an icebox. The walls of the house are up to 1.5 feet thick, requiring an immense amount of heat to keep the entire place at a comfortably warm temperature. I live in a real Valhalla fortress. Consequently, I have to prance around the house in sweaters and legwarmers. Such is the price to pay when you don't actually pay anything for your rent. It ain't so much to ask. We had a quartet meeting today at my place over tea to figure out who our second violinist should be. Our first violinist revealed that she was actually dismissed from her teacher's studio in Detmold and therefore has to attend a different Hochschule come next autumn. She spoke in such fast & heated German that I wasn't sure if I got all the details, but I think there was some misunderstanding with a former student in the studio, and it resulted in her getting the boot via an SMS from the professor. An SMS...geez, what a jerk. He didn't even have the decency to call her in person! I can't imagine how I'd feel if I was in that position. For her sake, I hope we'll have a good quartet experience. My quest for a violist in our Brahms Piano Quintet group still continues, because I certainly don't have the viola chops to play that viola part, and nor do I want to. An early Beethoven quartet is one thing - a mid-Romantic massive Brahms piano quintet is an entirely different sort of beast. I'm listening to Rent at the moment ("Ginsburg, Dylan, Cunnigham, and Cage...") - what memories it brings back! I feel a bit sad sometimes, in a nostalgic way, knowing that these years and scenes of jumping around the house with Neetu while lip-syncing all the words perfectly are more or less a figment of the past. We do, however, manage to keep the kids inside of us alive by still fighting over borrowed sweaters/who does the dishes next :) My latest website find is Hilary Hahn's online journal (www.hilaryhahn.com/journal), a record of a 'nomadic musician...a modern day troubadour.' I've always respected her as a musician, a mature, seemingly-down-to-earth human being (uncommon among famous concert artists), and now, as a lyrical writer. Unlike many concert artists involved in the solo act thing, her journals and attitude towards people makes her quite approachable and 'normal.' She also has good string player practice tips, too, for those of us who need them (I always do). I bid thee farewell by offering a parting blessing for the wonderful Kurt Vonnegut, who passed away today at the age of 84. "God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian," is one of the last books I read before moving from the States, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. We'll miss you.

In the Aftermath of Parents' Visit

I'm sitting in my new apartment on the "other side of town," as old landlord Klaus menacingly put it to me. It's a beautiful old manor (I'm guessing from the mid-1800s) with three floors and various tenants all under the surveillance of Frau Rehmer, an older German woman who is so OCD about conservation that she saves her dishwater to feed to plants. A bit much, I think. I am actually subleasing my two rooms from a very nice, green-friendly couple - Eugenia & Frank. Eugenia is from Mexico and although she already speaks quite decent English, she needs to pass an exam in order to be certified in teaching English in Germany, and since I'm a native English speaker, she and Frank are offering me an apartment until mid-July (when school is done) for free in exchange for speaking and practicing English with her. I have two rooms, a bathroom, unlimited phone usage (within Germany) and internet, and we all share the kitchen - I pay only utilities, which amount to fifty euros a month. It's a fantastic deal, and the house is much closer to school (about a five minute walk). Eugenia & Frank are gifted and enthusiastic cooks; we've already exchanged many recipes. Although my living quarters aren't as warm and fuzzy as what I had before, I am quite happy with the situation. Everyone is returning to Detmold next week after Easter. I've got some time to practice and catch up on life after a crazy six week 'break' if you can call it that. My parents were here for one week and we did the works: spent 3.5 days cleaning the old apartment, packing, and scrubbing the new one, I played a recital in Paderborn which they listened to, they met Kiwis, Germans, Asians, landlords (new and old) and even my Nepali vegetable-selling market friend Bhuwan...we then spent a quick 2 days sightseeing in Berlin, then 3 days in Wuerzburg with my cousin's family, and then I zoomed back to Frankfurt to drop them off at the airport & continued on to Detmold where I hastily returned the car before 2 PM yesterday. We had a beautiful VW Passat, and I enjoyed the thrill of being behind the wheel on the Autobahn (Germany's highway system) at 140 mph, ohhh yeah :-) Basically, I'm gearing up for the second half of my first year in Germany. Can't complain about anything as long as all the spiders down here in the basement leave me alone at night. Ewww.