On learning a foreign language (Part 2)

It's been a year and a half now since I last wrote about learning a foreign language.  A lot has changed since then.  I'm starting to get the hang of this German business now, and for the most part I get by.  I'm certainly nowhere close to being fluent, but somehow I am managing to function every day auf Deutsch.

Of course, it does help that I finally sucked it up and hit the books.  Last spring I signed up for an intensive B1 course at the Volkshochschule in Cologne.  (For those of you not in the know, the Volkshochschule is a German institute for adult education: a much more affordable route for learning German than Berlitz or the Goethe Institute, although you won't get any official accreditation).  The course gave my German skills a major boost.  The biggest difference I noticed was my grammar.  Before taking the course I would often just throw random words together into a sentence, and pray it made some kind of sense.  Now I'm much more conscious of things like cases and word order.  The rules haven't yet become automatic, but at least now I think about them and try to correct myself.

I have progressed.  Really, I have.  And people are noticing.  But no matter how good my German gets, it never feels real.  The truth is, most days I feel like a big fat fraud.  It's like I'm putting on an act for everyone.  I don't really speak German – I'm just playing the role of someone who does.  I'm constantly acting, pretending, struggling to "pass" – and hoping that people won't see right through me.

There are days I'm so sure that someone will turn around and call my bluff.  "YOU don’t belong here!" they'll say.  "You don't REALLY speak German!"

"RAUS, du Lügner!!!"

I always knew learning a new language would be an intellectual challenge.  What I wasn't prepared for was the emotional challenge.  The feeling that you never really fit in, and you never really know what's going on.  The frustration that comes with being unable to express yourself fully or accurately.  The intense homesickness of missing your native language.  The loneliness and isolation that comes with realising you're the only person in the room who speaks it.

All of the feels.

When I first moved to Germany, I used to play it safe.  Surround myself with English speakers, and only speak German when it was absolutely necessary.  It was like I had this safe little English bubble to float around in.

Lalalala.... bubbling around...

But I couldn't stay in this bubble forever.  After all, I wouldn't always have English-speaking colleagues around.  More and more, I began to find myself in situations where nobody else spoke English.  It was overwhelming, and it scared me half to death.  But it left me with no choice.  I had to sink or swim.  If I wanted to survive, I would have to do it auf Deutsch.

How can I explain the discomfort of constantly speaking a language which isn't your own?  It's like an extra layer of challenge has been added to every single part of your day.  Imagine if you could never see things clearly, but instead had to peer through a screen all the time.  You never get a full picture of reality.  You're always squinting and craning your neck, trying to piece together what on earth is going on from what you can – just barely – see.  That's what it feels like speaking German every day.  Some days the screen obscures a lot, and sometimes it's more transparent.  But make no mistake, the screen is always there.

"It looks like... they're saying something.. about..... a bicycle?"

Perhaps the most difficult thing is that, in German, I can't really be myself.  I'm far too self-conscious and slow on the uptake.  I must seem like the most boring person in the world in German.  I hardly say a word aside from "ja" or "stimmt".  Usually by the time I've understood someone and formulated a response, they've moved on to another subject entirely.

One-on-one conversations are fine, because my conversation partner can always slow to my pace.  But group situations are the absolute worst.  As the talk gets lively, everyone starts talking a mile a minute and interrupting each other.  Meanwhile I'm sitting in silence, looking for all the world like a dull and humourless idiot.  It probably seems like I have no thoughts or ideas in my head at all.  The truth is that my head couldn't be busier!  While everyone else is nattering on, I'm making a bunch of complicated linguistic calculations and mental back-flips just to get a basic grasp of what they're talking about.

So much.... translating....

Any friend of mine can attest to the instant transformation I undergo when I switch from German to English.  As I move to my native tongue, all hesitations fall away, and my true self emerges.  One minute I'm dull as dishwater, and the next minute I'm the life of the party.  Hey, who knew it?  Turns out this girl actually has a personality!

For this reason, I still socialise a lot in English.  Most of my friends are other native English speakers, or Germans with very good English (there's a lot of those).  I may be able to make small talk and friendly chat in German, but this always comes with a certain level of awkwardness, and a lingering feeling that I'm doing my math homework.  It's one thing to go through this effort when I'm on the clock, but why would I want it in my down-time?  Only in English can I truly relax.  Only in English can I feel natural, and be myself without worrying about whether I just used the right pronoun.

"Ahhhh.... this is the life."

And so a real dichotomy has developed.  German is my work language, and English is my leisure language.  It's like I put on a German hat to go to work, and take it off as soon as I get home.

I often wonder when this language will become second nature.  When will I be truly fluent?  When will I speak German with bravado and ease?  When will I form a sentence without thinking, is it der, die, or das?

Years later, Joe still wonders if it was "die Birne" after all

One sure sign will be the day I have a real German friend.  I'm not talking about a German friend who speaks English with me.  I'm not talking about a friend-ly German, who speaks simple German with me so we can make superficial chitchat.  I'm talking about a German who speaks to me in German consistently, using sophisticated language, and discusses deep and important issues.  I'm talking about someone who can be real with me in their language, and not have to constantly worry about dumbing things down.  If I can reach that level of understanding with a native German speaker, I'll know I've really made it.

But I have to be patient.  Learning another language is a slow process, and nobody becomes fluent overnight.  It takes years of repetition, immersion, and trial and error.  Sometimes your progress can be so slow it's imperceptible – and other times you'll make a huge leap and completely surprise yourself.  It will be years before I can feel completely comfortable in German.  In the meantime I'll have to be kind to myself, and trust that I'm moving forward.

Interview with Barbara Hannigan

I'll never forget the first time I saw Barbara Hannigan perform.  It was two years ago in Gothenburg, Sweden.  She started off with some Rossini and Mozart, singing and conducting simultaneously with flawless elegance.  Then in the second half of the programme she came trotting out in head-to-toe black leather, and gave the most wacky and electrifying performance of Ligeti's Mysteries of the Macabre you could imagine.  It didn't take long after that for Barbara to become my major girl crush on the classical music scene.  I mean, she's just so effortlessly cool!  Whether she's performing Lulu in pointe shoes, conducting Fauré’s Pelléas et Mélisande, or premiering a composer's new work, she always kicks ass and looks good doing it.  So of course I was pretty excited to participate in her masterclasses at the Lucerne Festival.  Barbara is an incredibly open and generous teacher.  She gives us advice on everything from technique and professional etiquette to choosing the right skin products and overcoming jetlag.  In the hours between the dress rehearsal and the final concert, we share a cup of tea at Barbara's Lucerne apartment.  As I sip my Throat Soother (with honey, of course) Barbara talks to me about the masterclasses, her trailblazing career, and what it takes to be a star soprano.

Barbara Hannigan (Photo credit: Elmer de Haas)

You moved to Europe in your early twenties.  What was it like adjusting from your life in Canada?

It was very difficult actually.  I had left home, which was Nova Scotia, when I was 17, and then when I was 23 I moved to England…  I studied there for one year.  I was extremely lonely.  It was a very big city.  Even though everyone was English-speaking I have to say the culture shock was pretty intense.  I felt that there was quite a strong prejudice at the school I was at, from the vocal department, against contemporary music.  I had a lot of trouble getting any teachers to even hear me.  They wouldn't let me audition.  So that was even more isolating.  After a very lonely and frustrating year in England, I moved to Holland… and then I went to the Hague Conservatory.  I did a one-year opera programme, but then I kind of kept my foot in Holland because I was working there.  I kept one foot in Canada and one foot in Holland, and it pretty well stayed that way until I made the complete move to Holland, which would have been 2001.

Did you always know that you wanted to stay in Europe?

No, I didn't know that at first, and like I say the loneliness was really hard for me to deal with.  Just the bureaucracy of a country with which you're not familiar – I mean being an immigrant or a resident, it's really hard.  All the day-to-day things that seem so easy in your home country: banking, hospitals, you know simple things, are just – it seems impossible in the new country.  Doctors, everything.  It's really really hard to negotiate for yourself and it takes a lot of time and energy.  I think it was in 2001, when I went to Holland looking for a short-term place… In September of that year I ended up basically being handed a wonderful apartment in Amsterdam.  Which was owned by Reinbert de Leeuw, the conductor and mentor of mine, who's a very important figure in my life.  I was able to live there at a rent that I could afford and choose myself, for a good 5 years.  I just decided to stay after that.  That was it.

What draws you to contemporary music?

I think I've always liked it since I was a child.  I think part of the reason maybe that I enjoy it was that I felt like I was walking in snow that nobody else had walked in yet.  I was making my own path and my own footprints, and I didn't have to follow the length of someone else's steps.

Making new footprints

There was no kind of tradition… When I was younger I was intimidated by the "tradition": this is how you sing this song.  Which seemed to me to have nothing to do often with what was on the page.  Whereas in contemporary music, you sang what was on the page.  So I could identify with it and I knew I could do that.  Now I realise that that's actually what one should apply to all music.  But at the time I felt free in contemporary music, I felt like I could expand and that I was ok and I could be myself.

I think another thing that drew me to contemporary music is that, you know, I moved to Toronto when I was 17.  I went to university for my bachelor when I was 18 – that's very young.  My voice was clear and I had a strong musical sense – not sophisticated, but I had good pitch and good rhythm.  My voice needed to catch up, and so while it was catching up I was the darling of the contemporary music people because my voice was very pure and clean.  I didn't have any bad habits and I didn't scoop and I didn't have a big vibrato, so it was kind of what a lot of composers really enjoyed working with.  And of course I was game for anything.  I was really open-minded. 

How do you approach learning a new score?

I avoid singing it for as long as possible, depending on how much time I have.  This is because I am a good sight reader, but I don't feel that sight reading – like literally reading at sight – is good for the voice.  I feel that one should familiarise oneself with the score, with the lay of the score, with the landscape of the score, before you sing it.  So you know where the uphills are, you know where the downhills are, you know where you're coasting, you know where you're going through passaggio.  You have an idea of what are going to be the most virtuosic passages, and those are to be practised extremely slowly.  There is a method about it, and that's probably why I get frustrated if, on occasion, I get the score late, because I feel like my method has been interrupted and I can no longer work at the pace that I feel serves the music best. 

Barbara performing in Alban Berg's Lulu.

Are there any particular performers that really inspire you?

I have a lot of respect for lots of different singers, and for many different reasons.  Like I love the way Bartoli sings – I'm pretty well sold on everything she does because she has so much joy and pleasure in singing.  But I also like someone that's more muted in a way, like Anne Sofie von Otter.  I do appreciate her a lot.  Lorraine Hunt Lieberson is a singer whose voice I really love.  Renée Fleming is someone for whom I have a lot of respect and in some repertoire I just adore her voice.  Then also someone like Fritz Wunderlich, like the older singers, I also appreciate for various reasons.

But it's not really singers from whom I draw my inspiration as a performer.  In fact I don't use them as examples for me when I'm making sound.  I will think of the way Glenn Gould articulates a certain phrase… I think about the martial arts actor/comedian Jackie Chan.  His transitions, his sense of rhythm, is pretty amazing, and I'd also imagine him when I'm singing.  Danny Kaye.  Julie Andrews, I think, is a pretty phenomenal performer and I admire her greatly, and I do often write "Julie Andrews" in the score.  There’s a Sound of Music moment, really, in most contemporary music I sing.  I'm sure she would just laugh her head off if she ever found out!

The hills are alive... with the sound of contemporary music!

Then film characters or a scene with a particular actor, how to play something.  Christoph Waltz in Inglorious Basterds – the Quentin Tarantino film for which he won the Oscar.  I mean he was playing the bad guy so well and with such pleasure and articulation and timing.  He was a pretty big influence for me.  So in my singing I’m not influenced by singing.  But I appreciate singers.  Very much.

How does it feel to go from the role of performer to the role of teacher?

I kind of feel like both are just leadership positions, so there isn't really a big change…  I find the teaching tiring because I get involved emotionally.  It's very hard not to notice the hopes and dreams of people.  You also see people's particular sensitivities.  Or you want someone to open something up and you can't get them to do it, and you're trying to help, and it can be hard.  So I find that tiring.  Of course, six hours a day of being in front of other people is a lot.  Somehow in an opera when I'm just singing it's easier – although even a six-hour opera day is really hard, I find six hours a day of masterclasses is even harder.

Barbara teaching in Lucerne.

We've been starting every day this week with a yoga class.  How do you find that health and fitness serve your singing?

In a really big way it serves my singing, partly because it gets me in good physical shape so that nothing can phase me.  Even if I'm doing a dance show.  I'm in strong cardio shape.  I always go running...  I really try to be physically strong.  Just so that there isn't anything that can phase me in an opera staging.  But also the other reason is that it's good for your mind.  It's good for you mentally to be physically strong.  First of all the yoga or the running, it really has a meditative quality so that it clears the mind.  Then it also gets rid of a lot of toxins or negative feelings in your body, so that you can be more positive towards your work.  I think generally physical fitness gives us positive endorphins, and therefore we're better disposed to serving the music.

You’ve often talked to us about discipline.  Why is this such an important part of your life?

Well because I want to have a long and enjoyable career, and I find that the way to enjoy your work is to be prepared and to be disciplined about it.  Performance anxiety, for example, is greatly alleviated by preparation.  Preparation can't happen if you have a chaotic life.  You may think I have a chaotic life because I spend all these months on the road, but I'm regulating my schedule as much as I can.  My daily schedule, my travel schedule, what I eat, where I eat, with whom I eat.  You know, who gets my energy, who doesn't.  I spend a lot of time alone.  As much as I can.  I like to be alone, and I just feel like the discipline is related to keeping me as calm as possible so that I can handle the stress.  Because the stress of having a career at the pace which mine seems to be moving right now is very high.  I don't think there's a lot of people that could handle that.

Singer, conductor, superwoman.

You've carved out a very unconventional career path.  How did you deal with it when people were trying to steer you in another direction?  How did you handle the naysayers?

Well, luckily my teachers were quite supportive of my path, whatever it was.  That was really important.  They believed in me.  I was always lucky.  I had one teacher who wanted me to sing the bel canto [repertoire], and yet when he came and heard me sing a really contemporary music concert once he was kind of flabbergasted because he realised that this was like home for me.  And over the years he's become incredibly supportive.

As far as having agents, I mean I had an agent early on who basically wanted me to sing – I think his dream for me was to be like Edita Gruberova…  He thought of all contemporary music as "squeaky gate" music, that's what he called it.  So he just lumped it all into one category.  He really went out of his way to make sure that I didn't sing this music anymore.  At a certain point I just – I left him because I felt… I was unhappy and he was probably frustrated, and so I left and I went for a long period without any management…  So it was a struggle, and I mean I'm really happy that I remained true to my repertoire.  I really sing the music that I like to sing and I do not sing music I don't like.  That includes saying no to a lot of contemporary music that I don't want to sing, or a composer with whom I don't feel an affinity.  It was kind of a hard path, and it was only four years ago that I joined my manager, with whom I have a very positive and supportive relationship.  It took a long time to get to that stage, I mean I'd already been performing professionally for 20 years – since I was 19.  And I was 39 when I moved to a really big manager.  So that's kind of something, you know?

Thanks for chatting, Barbara!

On German food...

Like most people, I love to eat.  In fact it's one of my greatest joys in life.  When it comes to food, Germany does some things really well, and some things not so well.  I have found some new favourite dishes here, but I've also encountered things which I can't understand anyone enjoying.

It's always nice to end on a positive note, so I'm going to start with the things I just don't get about German cuisine...

1. Fizzy Water

When is water not water?  When you're in Germany, apparently.  Germans don't really drink what I consider to be normal water.  Instead they consume this disgusting fizzy, sour stuff called Sprudelwasser.  Supposedly it's really good for you, but I just think it's gross.  It tastes weird, it doesn't quench my thirst, and it makes me feel all burpy.  People keep telling me that I'll get used to it.  Well, I've been here for almost a year now, and I haven't gotten used to it.  And I'm not alone - if you ask most people, they'll tell you they prefer normal, still, un-mineralised water.  You know, pure H2O.  The way it's meant to be.  I'm pretty sure drinking fizzy water is a specifically German quirk.  A while ago I was staying in Lübeck with singers from around the world, and we were provided with a choice of still or fizzy water.  Guess which water bottles ran out first?  Most of us (except the Germans) drank still water.  By the end we had nothing but fizzy water left to drink, and there was a lot of grumbling about it.  Now, you can get rid of the bubbles by repeatedly shaking the bottle and undoing the cap to release the gas.  But even when you've "de-bubbled" a bottle of fizzy water, that weird sour taste is still there.  It's horrible.  I don't understand why anyone would drink the stuff voluntarily.

Ugh... why??

2. Vegetarian Options (or lack thereof)

Ok, so it's probably harder to be a vegetarian in a place like, say, China.  But here in the land of sausage and schnitzel, the options for a vegetarian are severely limited.  If I am doing my own shopping and cooking, I don't have too many problems - although I must say, chickpeas are unreasonably difficult to find.

Seriously - most supermarkets don't even know what they are.

But if I'm travelling - as I usually am - and eating at restaurants and hotels, things can look get pretty bleak.  No matter how many exciting varieties of cheese and bread there might be, at the end of the day it is just cheese and bread.  It gets pretty boring after a while.

3. Marzipan

Now, some people out there adore marzipan.  And to those people I say... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???  For the uninitiated, marzipan is a type of "candy" epidemic to German sweet shops.  It is a paste made of sugar and almond meal.  Mmmm, almond meal.  Doesn't that sound like a treat to give your children?  How this grainy sickening substance ever got labelled as delicious candy is anyone's guess.  But the Germans are extremely proud of it, and love to bestow it as gifts to unsuspecting tourists and hotel guests.  The worst part is, it looks like something that will taste really exciting.  It's always whimsically molded and coloured to look like cute little animals or pieces of fruit.  Or it's covered in chocolate (presumably to try to mask the horrible marzipan taste).  But don't believe the confectioner's lies.  Marzipan is NOT delicious.  At best - and I mean, at the very best - it is tolerable.  The only time I've ever eaten marzipan was when I was jet-lagged and wide awake in a hotel.  It was 3:30 in the morning and I was starving, and there was nothing else to eat.  If I weren't a vegetarian, I might have considered gnawing off my left arm.  But instead I chose to choke down the hotel's "gift" of marzipan.  It was a true act of desperation.

Trust me - it doesn't taste as adorable as it looks.

4. Pudding

I don't hate pudding.  It's a fairly innocuous substance.  You know, the kind of thing you eat in the hospital when you've just had your tonsils out and you're too ill to chew.  But it's not something I would choose to eat for dessert.  I mean, it's just so unsatisfying.  There's nothing to do with it.  Nothing to sink your teeth into.  All you do is put it in your mouth and swallow.  And it's all so samey.  No variety in thickness, taste, or texture.  I mean really, what's the point?  This is why I find myself rolling my eyes when, for the umpteenth time, a German Mensa serves nothing but a variety of puddings for dessert.  It feels like such a cop-out.  I mean, whatever happened to a nice piece of cake?

Boooring.

5. Sundays

I know I harp on about this one a lot, but Sundays in German can be majorly depressing.  It's fine if you're at home and you can plan ahead by shopping on Saturday.  But if you're travelling and living out of a hotel, it's almost impossible to find a restaurant that's open for dinner on a Sunday.  Basically, your options are limited to Chinese food or a kebab.  I can't tell you how many times the Turkish have saved me from starvation on a Sunday night!


Whew.  That was a bit of a downer.  Let's move on to the positives.  Here's the good things about German food...


1. The Bread

Soooo good...

If there's one thing the Germans do right, it's bread  There's always a bakery around the corner offering a delicious variety of bread and rolls.  It's normal to start the day with a little walk to the bakery to fetch some fresh Brötchen.  And you can forget about choosing between boring old brown or white bread.  In Germany there are so many beautiful kinds to choose from: walnut, pumpkinseed, sesame... Some of them are so good that you don't even need to put anything on them.  Going gluten-free?  That's ok too.  Most bakeries make a tasty loaf of Dinkelbrot.

2. The Chocolate

As a dedicated chocoholic, this is the most important point for me.  I could never be happy in a country that doesn't have good chocolate.  Luckily, Germany offers a wide variety of delicious high-quality chocolate - and for a very reasonable price.  I have lived in Belgium, allegedly the world's chocolate capital.  But I have to say that I like German chocolate better.  My personal favourite is a Peppermint Ritter Sport.  I could polish one of those off in a matter of minutes.

The Best

3. Breakfast

Germans know how to enjoy their breakfast.  None of this nonsense of rushing off with a cup of coffee and a doughnut - in Germany breakfast is a lengthy affair, meant to be lingered over and savoured in full.  It is, after all, the most important meal in the day.  A typical German breakfast might include fresh Brötchen from the bakery with a selection of jams, cheeses and cold cuts, smoked fish, fresh fruit and vegetables, yoghurt, muesli, eggs, bacon... and that's on top of your coffee or tea.  It's usually a formal sit-down meal (especially with older-generation Germans), so that you have plenty of time to sit down and chat with your family/roommates/colleagues/whathaveyou as you enjoy your morning feast.  It's a really lovely way to start the day.

ALL OF THE FOOD.

4. Restaurant Bills

You know when you're eating out with friends, and the waiter makes a big fuss about it when you ask to separate the bill?  Well this doesn't happen in Germany.  Does. Not. Happen.  Separating the bill is totally normal and expected behaviour.  They simply ask you zusammen oder getrennt?  And if you answer getrennt, they add up the cost of your food on the spot.  No fuss, no drama.  This is the way customer service should be.

5. Käsespätzle

Pure deliciousness.

My favourite treat when I'm in Stuttgart is a nice big plate of Käsespätzle.  It's one of the few traditional Schwäbisch dishes which I can enjoy as a vegetarian.  Käsespätzle is a rich, eggy kind of noodle made with a creamy cheese sauce.  Most places will top it with caramelised onions, which makes for a mouth-watering combination.  Extremely hearty and delicious, especially when washed down with a mug of beer.  It's like mac n' cheese - pimped out.  It's the ultimate comfort food.


Well, there you go - the highlights and lowlights of German cuisine.  Of course, these are just my opinions.  The best way to figure out what you like is to try it for yourself.  Guten Appetit!

Brilliant Books (Part 2)

Following up on last week’s post, I thought I’d write about a few other books which I've read in the past.  Now these books are a bit less recent in my memory, so please bear with me while I dust off their jackets and recall what made them so great…

The Inner Voice – Renee Fleming

It's been a while since I read this, but I have vivid memories of being completely enchanted with it when I was younger.  A singing career is a mysterious thing, especially when you're 18 and just starting out in undergrad.  You know some people have it, but you're not really sure how they got it in the first place.  It seems to be something vaguely magical which just sort of happens to you… or doesn't.  This is why it can be so helpful as a young singer to read the biography of a successful artist – to hear it all straight from the horse's mouth.   There are a lot of opera singer biographies out there, but few singers have been as generous or as honest as Renee Fleming has been in describing how she got to where she is.

In The Inner Voice, Ms Fleming is writing directly to young aspiring singers, which I think is a lovely idea.  She wants to pass something on to the next generation, and tell us what it's really like to make it in the business.  And it's not all a fairytale.  Although Ms Fleming is now a successful international superstar, she also had her share of challenges and rejections.  She talks about her bad auditions, her year struggling to learn German on an exchange programme, and the experience of getting booed at La Scala.  Beginning with her childhood with singing teacher parents, she describes her education and career development, and paints a vivid image of a typical day in her current working life.

At times Ms Fleming's writing is a bit saccharine, but as a whole I find the book to be a charming read, full of warmth and wisdom.  If you're a young aspiring singer who wants to know what it's like "out there", then this book is definitely worth the read.

The Inner Game of Tennis – W. Timothy Gallwey

I was recommended this book years ago when talking to someone about my high notes.  I used to really struggle with my high notes you see – I couldn't sing anything above the staff.  This is actually kind of hilarious to remember, because I now sing a lot of coloratura repertoire which is chock-full of high notes.  But there was a time when my high notes were a real technical block, and I had no idea what to do about them.  It may have been partly a question of physical maturity and training, but for the most part I think it was more psychological than physical.  I was afraid of heights – I really didn't believe I could make it up there.  So my friend told me that I had to read this book.  It would completely change the way I thought about singing.

The Inner Game of Tennis, as its title implies, is written for tennis players.  However its philosophy can easily be applied to any kind of sport or performing art.  It's all about the psychology of practice, and how we often sabotage ourselves unknowingly.

As Gallwey explains, we all have two selves within us.  There is the physical, intuitive self, and there is the thinking, judging self.  Unfortunately a lot of us allow this second self to take over completely, and thus psych ourselves out of performing well.  Have you ever started talking to yourself when you're practising?  "No, not like that"  "You idiot, that sounded terrible!!"  This is your thinking/judging self talking to your physical/intuitive self.  And unfortunately, as is often the case, it's being a bit of a bully.  The truth is that if we get out of the way and trust our physical/intuitive self more, we will be amazed by what it can achieve.  It's all a matter of balance between the thinking and intuition, between mind and body.  If we overthink things and judge ourselves too much, we can interfere with our performance and sabotage ourselves.  But if we learn to work with both selves, and trust our body's muscle memory to work under pressure – rather than constantly telling it what to do – we can perform with real skill and flow.  The Inner Game of Tennis is about the "game" that is always playing between these two selves, and how to keep them balanced and working in harmony.

Apparently there is now an Inner Game of Music, which has adapted the text to be aimed at musicians.  But I don't think it's necessary to buy this rather than the original book.  It's pretty clear what Gallwey is saying, and how it can be applied to any kind of skillset.  The Inner Game of Tennis is a great little book – easy reading and incredibly beneficial for every athlete and artist.  If you haven't yet read it, you should definitely check it out.

What the Fach? – Philip Shepard

This is essential reading for any singer who is moving – or considering moving – to a German-speaking country.  Whether you're moving to Germany, Austria or Switzerland, you should consider this book your bible.  Written by an American singer who has made a successful career in Europe, this book addresses all the questions and concerns of an opera singer moving abroad.  Where should you audition?  How should you write your CV?  What are German companies and agents looking for in a singer?

Philip Shepard has been through it all, and he has lots of valuable information and experience to share with us clueless newbies.  He explains the fach system and its importance, and discusses the differences between a “fest” contract and a freelance career.  He talks about agents, contracts, and audition etiquette.  He also highlights various organisations and schemes –such as NYIOP and the Fullbright Scholarship – which give singers opportunities to live in Germany or sing for German houses.  At the end of the book, he includes a series of interviews with people in the business, which give some fantastic insight into how the German opera world works.  Don’t miss the Appendices either – most appendices are boring, but I promise these ones are incredibly useful!  Shepard includes lists of German opera studios, affordable travel companies, and helpful books for further reading.  There is a glossary of useful German phrases, from finding your way to the audition room to ordering a cup of coffee.  There is a list of American medications and their German equivalent.  Honestly, this guy has thought of everything.

If you are thinking about moving to Germany, Austria, or Switzerland, and are feeling lost at sea, you need to buy this book.  NOW.  Make sure to get the most up-to-date version, as there have been a few different editions published now.  This is the most exhaustive catalogue of practical knowledge which you can find on the subject.  It's an invaluable resource.

Well, that's all my reading recommendations for now.  But I'm sure I'll have more to share with you in the future.  Until then, happy reading!

On speaking like a German (Part 2)...

I had so much fun writing my last post on speaking like a German that I couldn't resist writing another installment.  After all, there are just so many delightful words and phrases in my adopted language.  Here are a few more...

Fleißig – You know when someone's a real keener, a teacher's pet?  Well that's kind of what "fleißig" means.  When someone is being very fleißig, it means they’re extremely diligent and conscientious.  They do all the right things all the time.  They’re industrious and studious, always working very hard.  You probably kind of hate them.

Ugh, soo fleißig...

Kaputt – Such an apt word that we've started using it in English.  Kaputt means broken, busted, wrecked, finished - totally and completely out of order.  You could use it to describe something that isn't working anymore, like your computer.  Or you could even use it to refer to yourself after a particularly long and stressful day.  A very useful word indeed.

Ach so – An essential pondering sound.  This is what a German says when someone has corrected or clarified something for them.  As they process this new information and consider the situation in a new light, they say "ach soooo" and trail off thoughtfully.  It's kind of like saying "ooOOohhhh", but more specifically, it kind of implies the idea, "this changes everything."  To say "ach so" like a true German, be sure to linger with real emphasis on the "soooo".  And don't forget to really close that "o".

Geil – Literally, this word means "horny".  But over the last few years it's evolved to mean the same thing as "awesome" or "wicked" in English.  It's kind of like when Paris Hilton started calling everything "hot".

"That's hot."

If something is really really cool you might say that it’s "supergeil" - as is demonstrated by this extremely strange German supermarket ad.

Punkt – The epitome of German bluntness.  This is the word you use when you have nothing more to say on the subject, and want to avoid any further discussion.  Punkt.  Period.  End of story.

Bwoahhh – Spelling has been approximated.  This is the sound a German makes when they're really impressed with something.  Bwoahh, look at the size of that fish!  Bwoahh, that cake looks amazing!  Bwoahhh...  And so on.

Egal – A shortening of "es ist mir egal", literally "it’s equal to me."  In other words, I don’t give a shit.  Must be said dismissively with a casual shrug of the shoulders.

Total – Much like the English word "totally".  Germans use this word as a qualifier all the time.  It’s not just impossible, it’s total impossible.  It’s not just Scheiße, it’s total Scheiße.  Unlike the English "total", the German "total" can be recognised by its two crisp explosive t’s, a very closed "o", and the emphasis on the second syllable: "Toh-Tahhhl".  This makes the word much more strong and emphatic, and lets you know that a German really means business.

Gleichfalls – Similar to the English "likewise".  A useful little shortcut when you want to avoid repeating an entire phrase back to someone.  If someone tells you to have a nice day, simply respond with "gleichfalls" and they'll understand that you wish them the same thing.  It's like saying "right back atcha, kid."

Doof – Pronounced "dohhh-f".  Again, a long and extremely closed "o" is essential here.  This is a very descriptive word meaning stupid or foolish.  I love how dull it sounds.  Even saying it makes you sound dumb.

Quatsch – Nonsense, hogwash, rubbish.  Something that's total baloney.  Again, I love how descriptive this word is.  It sounds like something wet and messy which shouldn't be there.  The next time someone's bullshitting you, try declaring "Quatsch!" in an accusatory tone.  Tell me that sound doesn't make them think twice about what they just said.

Pech – In English, you either have good luck or you have bad luck.  They're two varieties of the same concept.  But Germans have two completely different words for luck.  "Glück" is the positive word, meaning good luck, while "Pech" is the negative word, meaning bad luck.  If you've had a hard time of it lately, you've really had some Pech.

Spinnen – This literally means to spin, but it also has a colloquial use.  To "spin" is to be crazy.  Yes, that's right.  There’s a verb for being crazy.  When someone's talking Quatsch, you might tell them that they're "spinning".  It’s kind of like saying that they're trippin'.  Only not quite as gangsta.

Jooo – There's a charming little habit which I like to call The German Pout.  When you ask a German a question and they want to politely consider it, rather than dismissing it outright, they round their lips into a little pout.  Thus a thoughtful "ja…" becomes something more like "jooo…"  The more uncertain they are about the question, the further they will pout their lips as they mull it over.  Sometimes they even smack their lips a bit, as if they’re tasting the idea.  I’m not even joking here.

Hübsch – Pretty, cute, lovely, handsome… basically, very good-looking.  If a German comments "Hübsch" on your facebook photo, you should take it as a real compliment.

Dutzen – As in many languages, German has a formal and informal version of the word "you".  "Sie" is for older people, strangers, or authority figures.  "Du" is for younger people or friends.  So when your friendship with someone reaches a new level, they might tell you that you can "dutzen" them.  In other words, you may now address them with the less formal "du".

Natürlich – Naturally, of course.  This word can be used in a friendly way.  "Can I sit here?"  "Why yes, natürlich!"  It can also be used in a condescending way, as in "duh, that should be obvious."  "Is this your seat?"  "Ja, natürlich."

Gar – Another qualifying word, similar to "total".  Used to really emphasise a statement.  I know a certain conductor who, when he gets frustrated, likes to burst out with "das geht aber gar nicht!"  The closest English translation I can find for this is "that will never do at all!"  But somehow that doesn't sound quite as strong or angry as the German equivalent.

Bummeln – Tell me I'm not the only one who giggles upon hearing this word!  To "bummeln" is to hang around and do nothing in particular.  It might also mean wandering around and window-shopping.  It's sort of like the English word "loitering", but I find it much more evocative.  It just sounds so lazy.  It makes me think of "bumming around" in my comfiest pair of sweatpants and a baggy old hoodie.

Yeah, this is the life...

The more I learn this language, the more I discover delicious words like these ones.  German is just full of irresistable linguistic gems.  So be sure to look out for my next installment of "speaking like a German" - it should be out within a couple of months...

On being a Travelling Professional...

I'd like to introduce a new term here: a Travelling Professional.  A Travelling Professional is someone who, like me, has to travel a lot for their work. We can call it "TP" for short.

Actually no.  Let's not call it that.

Are you a Travelling Professional?  Perhaps you're not sure.  Perhaps you definitely are.  Perhaps you’re definitely not, but you’d still like something amusing to read on a Sunday.  In any case, here’s a helpful little list.

You know you’re a Travelling Professional when…

1. All airports and train stations look the same to you.

You don’t notice anymore if you’re in Tokyo or Amsterdam.  All you see is that you’re in an airport, or you’re in a train station.  They've all kind of melded into one big glass-and-concrete structure in your mind, because the only thing you really care about is where you’re going.  You know all those sculptures and installations and special exhibits that people put in airports, to try to make them unique?  Yeah.  Those don’t work.  You might look at them with a passing interest, but all you really care about is buying a sandwich and getting to the right gate or platform.

2. You’re always confusing your languages and currencies.

You tend to get just a little bit mixed up.  You might try to pay with Yen in Finland, or start speaking Italian in Germany.  When you're visiting so many countries in so little time, it seems impossible to keep track of where you are!  Last week I managed to speak French pretty well in Paris, but I kept unconsciously peppering it with German words: aber, und, oder, and so on.  I think the French were a little confused.

Not sure if this girl is part German.. or just crazy.....

3. You’re sick of going to restaurants.

When you’re travelling, restaurants become part of the daily grind.  It might seem nice at first, but after a while the novelty wears off.  You get pretty tired of letting a menu dictate what you’re going have for dinner tonight.  Even the nicest restaurant meal can never replace the pleasure of something cooked at home.  There’s just something so satisfying about deciding what you want to eat, buying the ingredients, and going home to make it.  Last year I spent most of December in a hotel in Stuttgart, and it didn't take me very long to get sick of the local restaurants.  When I came home for Christmas, I had no interest in the standard seasonal fat-and-carbs fest.  Instead I was desperate for fresh fruit, vegetables, and wholesome home-cooked meals.

All I want for Christmas is... salad.

4. You are accustomed to doing things practically everywhere.

Whether it’s doing your makeup on the train or warming up for an audition in a bathroom stall, you’re pretty adaptable.  You used to think brushing your teeth at the airport was weird.  Now?  It’s par for the course.

5. You find yourself feeling irrational rage towards perfect strangers.

Drivers get road rage and travelers get – travel rage.  When you’re tired and stressed, it doesn't take much to set you off.  Just the other day I was on a train, and there were two small boys playing and babbling to each other.  They weren't being whiny or causing any trouble.  They were just being kids.  Normally I would find the whole thing adorable.  But under the circumstances, I hated them.  This is what travel rage does to you.  I was once on a train in sitting in front of a woman munching on carrots, and I was so irritated that I wanted to throttle her.

6. Free Wifi is like the Holy Grail.

You search for it everywhere.  Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to have it in your hotel, but this is never a guarantee.  Of course, there are a lot of networks which claim to be free WiFi, but they can’t all be trusted.  Many are the times that you've clicked on a hopeful-looking network, only to be asked for an email address and credit card details.  The truly free WiFi signal is a rare and coveted prize indeed.  Travelers will trek from cafe to lonely cafe in search of its power.  This is why I often end up eating at Starbucks.  It’s the only way to check my emails.

7. You are extremely conscious of your nationality.

I never gave much thought to being Canadian when I lived in Canada.  Now that I’m abroad, I think about my Canadian-ness all the time.  People often ask where I’m from, and then follow up with questions about Canadian sports or politics.  I often find myself getting into rather intense and lengthy discussions about my country.  I would never have any of these conversations back home.  But over here it’s different.  I’m not just me.  I’m an unofficial representative of Canada.  In fact, I would go even further than that: apparently I am Canada.  “He’s Canadian, you know” they’ll say, and give me a pointed look.  As if I’m somehow personally responsible for every other Canadian person or thing in the world.  A couple of months ago, a Spanish friend approached me and gave his congratulations.  Congratulations? I asked.  Congratulations for what?  He explained that Alice Munro, a Canadian author, had just won the Nobel Prize in Literature.  I guess I must have had a hand in that somehow?

Alright Alice, I'll expect my share of the prize money in the mail.

8. You often wake up disoriented.

Wait, whose bed is this?  Which room am I in?  Which hotel?  Which city?  Which country??  It’s a really weird feeling.  But you’re kind of used to it by now.

9. Your friends don’t get it – you’re not on holiday.

Your friends might express jealousy when you tell them you’re going to Madrid.  What they don’t understand is that travelling for work is completely different from going on vacation.  You’re not going there to see the sights or lounge on the beach.  You’re going there to work!  Although I was in Paris for five days last week, I never saw the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower.  I tried to fit in a visit to the Musée d'Orsay, but it never worked out.  And while I've spent several months working in Stuttgart, I've never done a single touristy thing there.  Much as we would like to be, Travelling Professionals are not tourists.

10. You have become a bit of a travel snob.

You've done this travelling thing so many times that you've got it down to a well-choreographed routine.  And you can’t believe that other people haven’t.  When someone packs liquids in their hand luggage, or takes a million years to go through security, you can’t help but roll your eyes at them.  What an amateur.

You're actually listening to the safety announcements on the plane??
LOSER!!

It’s a special way of life, this constant travelling.  It’s certainly not for the faint of heart.  Sometimes it’s really fun and exciting, and other times it’s extremely stressful.  Most of the times, though, it’s just Work.  An abnormal lifestyle that’s somehow become normal.  So to all you Travelling Professionals out there, I just want to say – I feel ya.  Oh, and also? Let me know if you find any free WiFi.

On being German...

By now I've become pretty familiar with German culture.  And for the most part, I like it very much.  After all, I wouldn't be living here if I didn't feel some kind of affinity with German-ness.  Nevertheless, there are some aspects of German culture that continue to elude me.  Little quirks that leave me completely perplexed.  Here are ten of them, in no particular order.

1. Everything is on time… except Deutsche Bahn.

Germans value their Pünktlichkeit above all.  Or so it would seem.  When you live in Germany, you learn that there is one major exception to this rule: Deutsche Bahn.  For Deutsche Bahn, schedules are meaningless.  In fact, I’m pretty sure that Deutsche Bahn employees spend their spare time sitting around laughing at the so-called schedules and the customers who are naïve enough to actually believe them. 

"And then I said.. the train will arrive at 10:30!!"

If there is one rule in Germany, it’s that the trains are never on time.  After a couple of train journeys, you learn to expect the familiar announcement: “Sehr geehrte Damen und Herren…” followed by a verbose explanation about why your train is going to be late.  At this point I’ve learned to adapt to the tardy trains.  I book my trip so that there's a window of at least two hours before I need to arrive.  And then I pray.

2. Jaywalking is a cardinal sin.

If you come from Canada or the States, you know that it’s *technically* against the law to cross when there’s a red light.  But this law is more of a guideline, to be followed within reason.  If there are no cars on the road, of course you’re going to cross.  Why should you waste time waiting for a light to change colour when it’s perfectly safe to walk?  Why, you may ask?  Because you’re German.  To the Germans, the Ampelmann is an emissary of God, to be followed austerely with a fervent devotion.  Any transgression against the command of the Ampelmann will be viewed as a cardinal sin.  You will be punished severely with hellfire and brimstone.  Or at the very least, you will be chastised sternly by any nearby Germans.

"ALL SHALL BOW DOWN BEFORE ME IN TERROR!!!"

3. Speeches are sacrosanct.

Germans looooove to make speeches.  Long, long speeches.  You cannot expect to attend any event and not have to listen to at least two self-important Germans make a speech.  And don’t expect the speech to be clear or concise either.  It will be as long-winded as possible.  Full of flowery overly-formal language which is unnecessarily difficult to understand.  I think this is why Germans eat so many cold cuts and potato salads.  This way they don’t have to worry about the food going cold while they listen to the speeches.

Sehr praktisch.

4. There is no concept of queuing.

Where I come from, queuing is kind of important.  It’s polite to line up, and Canadians pride themselves on their politeness.  The last time I was in Toronto, I looked on in wonder as people at the bus station formed two perfect lines where the bus doors would open.  The bus hadn't even arrived yet, and people were already thoughtfully anticipating how they would board it in an orderly fashion.  It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.  Here in Germany, however, people don’t queue.  They swarm.  There is no concept of waiting your turn, or first come first served.  The idea is that you push and shove, and if you have sharp enough elbows you will get where you want.  This is particularly disconcerting when exiting and entering trains.  You would think that people would wait for you to get out before pushing their way in, but oh no.  It’s mayhem, I tell you.  Total mayhem!

Trying to exit a train in Germany.

5. Everything is dead on Sundays and holidays.

So I've been living in Europe for a while now.  I've gotten pretty used to things being closed on a Sunday.  I understand this is not a culture of speed and convenience, like the one that I come from.  Sunday is not for shopping and consumerism – it’s for quiet reflection, reading, gardening, and spending time with family.  I get it, ok?  In fact I think it's kind of a nice idea.  So I think ahead, and I make sure I have everything I need from the shops on a Saturday.  What has come as a total surprise to me, however, is the way things shut down on holidays.  For example.  Christmas Eve is a day of hustle and bustle, right?  The day that everyone goes out to do their last-minute gift shopping and buy more butter and flour for Christmas dinner?  Not in Germany.  This year, to my shock and horror, I discovered that everything shuts down before 3pm on Christmas Eve.  And I mean everything!  Want to enjoy one more merry glass of Glühwein at the Christmas market?  Forget it.  The Christmas market is already shut down and packed away for the year.  On Christmas Eve, a busy German city will transform into a ghost town.  It’s actually really creepy.  The same goes for New Years Eve, New Years Day, and a bunch of random local holidays which will probably take you by surprise.  Basically, don’t expect to be able to get anything from the shops.  Ever.

Germany on a Sunday.
(People still wait for the light to change before crossing.)

6. Fresh air is important, but drafts are dangerous.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wrap my head around this one.  Germans are often opening their windows or going on little walks for some "frische Luft".  At the same time, they have a pathological fear of drafts.  The most common complaint you’ll hear from a German is “es zieht”.  Why are drafts so dangerous?  Well, apparently Germans believe that drafts will make them sick.  Colds, flus, pneumonia, arthritis, the bubonic plague – you name it, and the Germans will most certainly blame it on a draft.

"It vas se draft."

7. Air conditioning is also deeply suspicious.

Like drafts, Germans have a deep-seated suspicion of air conditioning.  They believe that the artificially circulated air will make them sick.  It doesn't matter how uncomfortably hot you are.  It doesn't matter if you are suffocating or fainting from heat stroke.  Apparently it is healthier to remain cooped up in a stiflingly hot muggy room than to turn on the air conditioning and – God forbid – allow your body to return to a regular temperature.  I have no idea where this superstition comes from.  All I’m going to say is, I've spent many summers in air-conditioned Toronto not getting sick.

8. Everything must fit neatly into a category.

If it doesn't, people will react with panic and confusion.  Germans like to sort everything into boxes.  They like everything to fit into one box, and one box only.  Anyone who’s familiar with the fach system in opera will be aware of this, but trust me, it goes much further than that.  When I opened a bank account here, I was interrogated about the nature of my work.  Not only did they want to know that I was a freelance singer, they wanted to know exactly what kind of singer I am.  Do I sing opera, oratorio, lieder?  Do I sing as a soloist or in choirs and ensembles?  When I replied “all of the above” the lady at the bank looked horrified.  I’m pretty sure she almost had an aneurysm.

"I can't fit her into a category!  WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!!!!"

9. You have the right to offer your complete, uncensored opinion to everyone.

It doesn't matter if they’re a total stranger crossing at a red light (see above).  They should still hear your opinion.  Germans feel they have the right to judge everything openly – and with no sugar coating.  Sometimes this kind of blunt honesty can be refreshing.  One could argue that it's better than being dishonest for the sake of being “nice”, as people often do in Canada.  But sometimes you’re minding your own business, not asking for an opinion, and a German comes up and assaults you with it anyway.  I mean, come on people!  That’s just plain rude.

10. Cake hardly ever tastes as good as it looks.

I cannot count the number of times that I've ordered a beautiful piece of cake at a German cafe, only to be sorely disappointed.  It looks like it should taste glorious, but it's just a bland lump of flour and butter.  What gives, Germany??  Are you not allowed to use sugar in your baking???  The weirdest part is that these cakes, as well as being completely tasteless, are extremely fatty.  Talk about a waste of calories!  If I'm going to break my diet, I want my tastebuds to at least enjoy the experience!

German cake: not to be trusted.

Germany, I love you dearly.  But some of your oddball traits will puzzle me until my dying day.  At the very least, I can congratulate myself on taking things lightly.  While many of these things used to make me cringe with frustration, these days I’m able to brush them off with a chuckle and a shrug of the shoulders.  After all, aren't we all a bit weird?