It is difficult to know where to begin describing a day like this, perhaps at the beginning.
As is often the case, I skipped the hotel breakfast and stayed in my room to write. I’m not much of a breakfast person anyway so I chafe all the more under the provision in our contract whereby a large chunk of the per diem is deducted for the lavish buffets I rarely indulge in. Even more puzzling is the fact musicians would be billed for something most European hotels offer free of charge most of the time. No wonder some of my colleagues line pockets with purloined breakfast items to feed on for the rest of the day.
The bus ride to the airport ends with the bad news that our flight will be delayed. At 10:15 we are told to report back at 11 for an update. What happened to calling the airport before leaving, I wonder? At 11 the news is worse: no flight until 2. We are encouraged to get back onto the buses to be dropped off in Verona for some bonus sightseeing. I wander the streets of Verona for about an hour and get back on the bus at 1 to return to the airport.
Security is painfully slow, and Verona is one of those airports where passengers need to take a bus out to the plane even though it could be plainly seen through the terminal window parked about 200 feet away. The last orchestra members boarded a little after 2 at which point we were informed by a sheepish sounding captain that because of the slow boarding we had missed our slot and would need to wait 90 minutes. To the relief of all we got going almost right away. From then on the flight was more or less normal. We landed a bit after 3 and by 3:30 I was on the train to Rome. Since I chose not to stay at the orchestra hotel I was spared another bus trip. All in all there would be 7 bus rides a colleague pointed out at the intermission of the concert that evening.
I made it to my room by 5 and spent almost an hour trying to figure out how to get to the concert hall by city bus. Rome has hundreds of bus lines that twist and turn throughout the city, making planning a trip a challenge for the novice traveler. A brief nap followed by a slice of pizza on the run had to stand in for what was supposed to be a half-day in Rome. Arrival at the concert hall by bus at 8 PM for a 9 PM concert was largely uneventful.
The concert hall in Rome is part of a giant complex containing several venues. We were warned in our tour book that it was a 7-minute walk from the stage door to the stage – more or less true. Inside, the auditorium looked much like the all too familiar Berlin Philharmonie, with some of the same sound issues as well. At the opening of the Tchaikovsky 6, I thought I was playing but no sound seemed to come from the instrument. Someone said after the concert the basses sounded ‘OK’ in the hall, but under the ear, nada.
The orchestra played well, I thought, considering what a crappy day we had. The atmosphere was more charged than the night before, I guess because it was Rome. Also, the president of Italy was in attendance. I was nearly trampled by paparazzi on my 7-minute walk to get out of there.
Outside, I learned that there ‘might’ be a bus strike in progress, walked halfway back, and then took a taxi, not reaching the room until 12:30. Various revelries kept me up until about 3 AM.
Saturday is a free day, thank heavens.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Thursday – Travel from Torino to Verona, Concert in Verona
No breakfast this morning due to overindulgence last night. A persistent rain kept me in the hotel until it was time to walk to the train station. Fortunately most of the 10 blocks were under arcades running along the tracks.
The orchestra had a chartered train to Verona. We were herded into three first class cars at the front of the train while the other nine remained empty. During the trip, at least one brass player used a vacant car to practice.
Chartered travel arrangements always pose something of a dilemma where the desire to escape from the group runs headlong into the exigencies of getting from one city to the next on time, not to mention saving money. The trick is to surround oneself with colleagues whose presence is enjoyable, with the double function of creating a buffer zone against those whose proximity evokes displeasure. I was fortunate in my seating situation and the ride turned into a jolly time.
The train to Verona took about 3 hours, followed by a superfluous 5-minute bus ride. In the hotel by 3:30. The Leon D’Oro proved less than charming. Baggage delivery became something of a fiasco too. I ran into a few colleagues in the lobby who at 6 PM were still waiting for their luggage before the 8:30 concert.
The persistent drizzle had followed us from Torino. A nap preceded a brief soggy walk around the town swarming with tourists. No dinner before the concert due to continuing ramifications of last night’s overindulgence.
The hall in Verona turned out to be a charming old opera theater, seating only about 1,300. The sound onstage seemed dry but with a good bass response. The mellow sound was a pleasant change after the stridency of the night before. Muti seemed a little less keyed up than the night before as well. Maybe his day had been as dreary as ours.
After the concert, a fifteen minute walk back to the hotel in the rain.
The orchestra had a chartered train to Verona. We were herded into three first class cars at the front of the train while the other nine remained empty. During the trip, at least one brass player used a vacant car to practice.
Chartered travel arrangements always pose something of a dilemma where the desire to escape from the group runs headlong into the exigencies of getting from one city to the next on time, not to mention saving money. The trick is to surround oneself with colleagues whose presence is enjoyable, with the double function of creating a buffer zone against those whose proximity evokes displeasure. I was fortunate in my seating situation and the ride turned into a jolly time.
The train to Verona took about 3 hours, followed by a superfluous 5-minute bus ride. In the hotel by 3:30. The Leon D’Oro proved less than charming. Baggage delivery became something of a fiasco too. I ran into a few colleagues in the lobby who at 6 PM were still waiting for their luggage before the 8:30 concert.
The persistent drizzle had followed us from Torino. A nap preceded a brief soggy walk around the town swarming with tourists. No dinner before the concert due to continuing ramifications of last night’s overindulgence.
The hall in Verona turned out to be a charming old opera theater, seating only about 1,300. The sound onstage seemed dry but with a good bass response. The mellow sound was a pleasant change after the stridency of the night before. Muti seemed a little less keyed up than the night before as well. Maybe his day had been as dreary as ours.
After the concert, a fifteen minute walk back to the hotel in the rain.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Wednesday – rehearsal and concert in Torino
I’m up and about by 7 AM. The hotel (not one the orchestra is staying in) turns out to be a pleasant surprise. The smallish breakfast buffet would elicit outrage from certain orchestra members who turn noses up at any spread containing less than three different kinds of smoked fish, but it is not bad by any reasonable standard.
The city bus to the hall is slow but gives me a chance to rub elbows (literally) with a bunch of Italians on their way to work. As I find out later, the complex containing the concert hall used to be a Fiat plant. I guess the ‘T’ in Fiat stands for Torino, not Tony as in the timeworn joke.
At a loss to find the musician’s entrance, I wander aimlessly about the huge windswept plaza fronting the building until two different CSO staffers come out and show me the way in.
There is always a moment of anticipation opening the bass trunk after an overseas trip. I decided to use the CSO Testore – the instrument I waited 5 years for repairs on – so I was a little extra concerned this time. As a student I took a bass to Europe once, an instrument unremarkable save for its beautifully carved lions-head scroll. Opening the trunk I ended up catching the head as it tumbled out, having cracked off at the nut. It brought to mind the scene from The Godfather where the guy wakes up looking at the horse head. Anyhow, this time there was no discernable damage.
The auditorium, three floors below ground level, has attractive wood finishes all round. The sound of one bass alone on the stage is clear, if somewhat brittle. After a few peaceful minutes alone I am swamped as the rest of the orchestra trickles in and find out it can become quite loud. Instruments close by – trombones for instance – can be heard with painful clarity while those across the stage are difficult to make out.
Muti leads a relaxed rehearsal, giving the orchestra a chance to find its feet without too much meddling, certainly a different atmosphere from the way things have been done at the CSO in the past.
Afterwards, a chance encounter on the street leads to a pleasant lunch with a colleague. The rest of the afternoon is spent avoiding the dreary weather – napping at the hotel, writing.
For the 9 PM concert, I try and arrive early for some practice. Again, after a few minutes alone I’m drowned out but churn through about an hour of scales and Sevcik anyway.
From my position onstage it is difficult to give an objective assessment of the concert. There were some moments of less than perfect ensemble, perhaps attributable to the difficulty hearing across the stage. The louds seemed overly loud as well – nothing new there.
Muti was well received by the Italian audience, returning for many curtain calls at the end of the first half which lead to an awkward moment when the orchestra, eager to start its break, began to exit en masse just as the Maestro emerged for yet one more bow, resulting in a confusion of sitting and standing musicians, some halfway to the doors, nobody sure what to do next.
After the concert, a lively dinner with two colleagues and one critic. Back to the hotel by 2 AM.
The city bus to the hall is slow but gives me a chance to rub elbows (literally) with a bunch of Italians on their way to work. As I find out later, the complex containing the concert hall used to be a Fiat plant. I guess the ‘T’ in Fiat stands for Torino, not Tony as in the timeworn joke.
At a loss to find the musician’s entrance, I wander aimlessly about the huge windswept plaza fronting the building until two different CSO staffers come out and show me the way in.
There is always a moment of anticipation opening the bass trunk after an overseas trip. I decided to use the CSO Testore – the instrument I waited 5 years for repairs on – so I was a little extra concerned this time. As a student I took a bass to Europe once, an instrument unremarkable save for its beautifully carved lions-head scroll. Opening the trunk I ended up catching the head as it tumbled out, having cracked off at the nut. It brought to mind the scene from The Godfather where the guy wakes up looking at the horse head. Anyhow, this time there was no discernable damage.
The auditorium, three floors below ground level, has attractive wood finishes all round. The sound of one bass alone on the stage is clear, if somewhat brittle. After a few peaceful minutes alone I am swamped as the rest of the orchestra trickles in and find out it can become quite loud. Instruments close by – trombones for instance – can be heard with painful clarity while those across the stage are difficult to make out.
Muti leads a relaxed rehearsal, giving the orchestra a chance to find its feet without too much meddling, certainly a different atmosphere from the way things have been done at the CSO in the past.
Afterwards, a chance encounter on the street leads to a pleasant lunch with a colleague. The rest of the afternoon is spent avoiding the dreary weather – napping at the hotel, writing.
For the 9 PM concert, I try and arrive early for some practice. Again, after a few minutes alone I’m drowned out but churn through about an hour of scales and Sevcik anyway.
From my position onstage it is difficult to give an objective assessment of the concert. There were some moments of less than perfect ensemble, perhaps attributable to the difficulty hearing across the stage. The louds seemed overly loud as well – nothing new there.
Muti was well received by the Italian audience, returning for many curtain calls at the end of the first half which lead to an awkward moment when the orchestra, eager to start its break, began to exit en masse just as the Maestro emerged for yet one more bow, resulting in a confusion of sitting and standing musicians, some halfway to the doors, nobody sure what to do next.
After the concert, a lively dinner with two colleagues and one critic. Back to the hotel by 2 AM.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tuesday – Arrival in Torino
The flight landed more or less on time at about 10:15 PM. Torino airport’s gleaming modern terminals and baggage hall lead to a rather shabby waiting area. At that hour there were no more trains, only a bus at 10:45.
A slight drizzle at the beginning of the trip abruptly became a downpour. The bus to the Porta Nuova train station for some reason pulled up a block short leaving passengers to fend for themselves. Rather than a bustling hub of activity as in other European cities, the station in Torino looked gloomy, deserted save for a few people huddling under cover like half drowned rats. Construction barricades forced hapless pedestrians from under the covered archways into the rain. It took two crossings of the street in ankle deep water to find the taxi stand.
The first cab waiting held two ladies arguing (?) loudly in Italian, something about the airport. Another soon pulled up behind but the passenger who got out proceeded to carefully examine and question each and every coin the driver returned to him in change. The rain was falling in sheets.
Ten minutes and E. 10 later, arrival at the hotel. It is now midnight. At the desk the man in line before me gets into a long, involved discussion with the manager about Internet access. In the room by 12:10 AM.
A slight drizzle at the beginning of the trip abruptly became a downpour. The bus to the Porta Nuova train station for some reason pulled up a block short leaving passengers to fend for themselves. Rather than a bustling hub of activity as in other European cities, the station in Torino looked gloomy, deserted save for a few people huddling under cover like half drowned rats. Construction barricades forced hapless pedestrians from under the covered archways into the rain. It took two crossings of the street in ankle deep water to find the taxi stand.
The first cab waiting held two ladies arguing (?) loudly in Italian, something about the airport. Another soon pulled up behind but the passenger who got out proceeded to carefully examine and question each and every coin the driver returned to him in change. The rain was falling in sheets.
Ten minutes and E. 10 later, arrival at the hotel. It is now midnight. At the desk the man in line before me gets into a long, involved discussion with the manager about Internet access. In the room by 12:10 AM.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
A final gasp of fresh air
Tuesday, September 25
The previous post contains a glaring mistake I should correct right away. And since, miracle of miracles, I have free Internet access at least for the moment I can set things to rights.
The schedule for the first four days of the tour should read:
Sunday
Depart Chicago
Monday
Arrive Torino
Tuesday
Off
Wednesday
10-12:30 CSO rehearsal
9 CSO concert (A)
How can somebody not know when they are leaving for Europe, you ask?
The answer is simple, and even spawns the subject for a new post. What appears above is the ‘official’ tour schedule for the orchestra. I left a day early (Saturday) and went someplace else. So I’m not paying much attention to what the orchestra as a group is up to until we all convene for the rehearsal on Wednesday morning.
One of the things about touring I have come to appreciate more and more over the years is that besides rehearsals and concerts an orchestra member is free to come and go as he or she pleases. In fact, making separate arrangements becomes almost an imperative for maintaining sanity.
Of course I love all of my colleagues dearly, but I have found being in an orchestra becomes like a cross-country bus trip with about a hundred of your closest friends. The thing funny yesterday becomes today’s grating annoyance. Eventually everyone needs to get up to use the toilet and the whole thing starts to take on a certain funk. Touring tends to exacerbate those conditions. No matter how nice the scenery, it is often preferable to take a different bus.
The previous post contains a glaring mistake I should correct right away. And since, miracle of miracles, I have free Internet access at least for the moment I can set things to rights.
The schedule for the first four days of the tour should read:
Sunday
Depart Chicago
Monday
Arrive Torino
Tuesday
Off
Wednesday
10-12:30 CSO rehearsal
9 CSO concert (A)
How can somebody not know when they are leaving for Europe, you ask?
The answer is simple, and even spawns the subject for a new post. What appears above is the ‘official’ tour schedule for the orchestra. I left a day early (Saturday) and went someplace else. So I’m not paying much attention to what the orchestra as a group is up to until we all convene for the rehearsal on Wednesday morning.
One of the things about touring I have come to appreciate more and more over the years is that besides rehearsals and concerts an orchestra member is free to come and go as he or she pleases. In fact, making separate arrangements becomes almost an imperative for maintaining sanity.
Of course I love all of my colleagues dearly, but I have found being in an orchestra becomes like a cross-country bus trip with about a hundred of your closest friends. The thing funny yesterday becomes today’s grating annoyance. Eventually everyone needs to get up to use the toilet and the whole thing starts to take on a certain funk. Touring tends to exacerbate those conditions. No matter how nice the scenery, it is often preferable to take a different bus.
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