South American Tour - Brazil, Argentina, Uruguay and Peru

While most people were heading home for Easter weekend, I was on a different kind of trip.  Along with the ensembles of the Internationale Bachakademie Stuttgart, I embarked on a whirlwind tour of South America.  With a fantastic programme to perform – Bach's B minor mass and Handel's Messiah – we traveled to São Paolo, Rio de Janeiro, Montevideo, Buenos Aires, and Lima.  Four countries in two weeks!  And now I'll try to sum it up in less than 2000 words.

We started in Brazil.  As we arrived in São Paolo, the first thing people told me was how unsafe it would be.  "Don’t wear any jewelry," they'd say, "lock any valuables in the hotel safe."  One person even told me that people would cut off my finger just to get my engagement ring!  My Brazilian friends later told me this was a dramatic exaggeration.  Yes, you should be careful, as you would in any large city, but it's not so extreme.

There are about 20 million people living in the metropolitan area of São Paolo.  To put that in perspective for me, the entire population of Canada is 35 million.  Imagine two thirds of Canada all living in one city!

The city just goes on and on and on...

On our second day in São Paolo, we were invited to an Easter breakfast at the German consulate.  The consulate was gorgeous – a veritable tropical paradise with white walls, palm trees and a shimmering turquoise swimming pool.  We were treated to a big beautiful meal, complete with gorgeous coffee, fruit so fresh it would melt in your mouth, and a glass of cool prosecco to finish it all off.  But we couldn't help but notice that all the buildings in this area were surrounded by high walls.  What was outside of those walls?  What made them necessary?

Although my options were limited as a vegetarian, I was determined to taste some Brazilian food and drink while I was in town.  For the most part it was delicious – I especially enjoyed the yucca fries.  There was however one major disappointment in my culinary adventures.  One day in the park I decided to try coconut water.  There were loads of people selling it fresh from the coconuts, and I couldn't resist.  It looked so tasty and refreshing – the perfect thing to drink on a hot day.  I'd also read a lot about the health benefits of drinking coconut water, so I couldn't wait to give it a go.  The truth is, coconut water is nothing like what you'd expect… it just tastes like dirty water!  I choked mine down on principle because I'd paid for it, but I would never drink that stuff again.

Coconut water - just don't do it.

The best thing I tasted in São Paolo was definitely the caipirinhas.  A strong punch of sweet and sour soaked in alcohol.  It's my new favourite drink!

Our hotel was in the posh bit of town, where it was not uncommon to see helicopter landings on top of the buildings.  Needless to say, it was beautiful.  We even had some furry visitors for the Easter weekend!

Our very own hotel Easter bunnies

When we weren't performing, we enjoyed exploring the busy city life, checking out the art gallery down the street, taking pictures from the top of the tallest skyscraper, or perusing the Mercado for food and gifts.

Now I would love to be able to wax lyrical about the beauties of Rio de Janeiro, but the sad truth is, I didn't see it.  We were only there for one day, and I was so tired from the flight that I slept right through the afternoon!  The most I saw of Rio was the rooftop swimming pool and bar at the hotel, which was lovely.  Some more adventurous souls went out at 6am the next day, so they could see the beach before they left.  I would have loved to join, but I loved my sleep much more.

From Rio we traveled onwards to Montevideo, which was a welcome change of pace.  After Brazil's big busy cities, it was nice to be somewhere more peaceful.  Montevideo is a laidback city on the beach, and the people all seem very friendly and open.  One guy in the market began chatting with us, and even invited us to smoke a joint with him!  Marijuana is legal in Uruguay, and is pretty easy to come by – as long as you are a Uruguay national and over the age of 18.  (We declined the offer by the way – after all, we had a concert that evening!)

Chillaxing in Montevideo

Like Brazil, Uruguay has a fairly meat-centric culture, and a lot of us enjoyed feasting at the local grill.  I myself stuck to pizza and salad, but enjoyed feasting my ears on the samba band which serenaded us over lunch.  They paraded all the way through the Mercado with high energy brass and drums, the men wearing voluminous purple silk shirts, and the women dancing in high heels and sequined bikinis. I've never had such a lively meal in all my life!

From Montevideo, we took to ferry to Buenos Aires.  Buenos Aires is often called the "Paris of South America", and it's easy to see why.  The many Victorian buildings lining the streets lend it a distinctive European feel.  But this city has its own character as well.  Shouting salesmen will hop on the subway waving around chocolate and ice cream, and buskers will serenade you for a few stops, accompanied by guitar and cajón.  If you wander around La Boca, a neighbourhood named for its local football stadium, you'll see plenty of colourful murals, bustling markets, and even tango dancers.

La Boca, Buenos Aires

By some strange coincidence, a lot of my friends were in Buenos Aires at the same time as I was.  Of course, I knew I had friends who were already living there, but there were also friends from Canada, Switzerland, and Scotland who all happened to be there on holiday.  What were the odds?  It seemed everyone wanted to be in Buenos Aires!  I managed to meet up with most of them while I was in town, and together we wandered the city and chatted, and enjoyed eating at the many delicious local pizza joints.  I was surprised at first when a friend ordered only one bottle of beer for the whole table... but then I saw it was a full litre bottle!

Look at the size of this thing!

On our free day, an orchestra member's friend arranged an outing in the country for us.  After riding the subway and the train, we boarded a boat on the Tigre Delta, and drove out to a remote cottage on the water.  It was just lovely!  There were friendly dogs, hammocks in the shade, and a garden buzzing with hummingbirds.  We enjoyed a generous meal in the sun, and were all very happy to enjoy some peace and quiet away from the city.  The friendly old man who owns the cottage told us he makes his living hosting guests like ourselves.  He enjoys his bucolic life by the river, and only ventures across the water once a week to buy supplies.

The quiet life on the Tigre

Later that day, we were invited to give a small concert at the German consulate, after which we were served a beautiful three-course dinner with wine.  Having dinner at 9 or 10pm is pretty standard in Argentina, it seems.  Over dinner we enjoyed chatting with the guests, who came from all sorts of professions and backgrounds.  But again, as in São Paolo, I couldn't help noticing the walls around us, and thinking of what they represented.  It seemed there were two sides of Buenos Aires, and we were being kept safely on the manicured, comfortable side.  I'm sure I wasn't the only one conscious of the walls – my German friends would certainly be familiar with walls and their meanings.

We had many fantastic concerts in South America, and the theatres and concert halls were all truly beautiful.  But for me the most memorable concerts were in the gorgeous Teatro Colón.  The acoustic in this theatre has to be one of the best in the world.  We could go so small and so quiet, and the tiniest musical details would be heard throughout the audience.  It was truly magical.

The Teatro Colón

Our last stop was Lima.  My first impression of Lima was the extreme heat bearing down on us as soon as we left the airport.  You could burn to a crisp in a matter of minutes under that sun!  After the heat there was the traffic.  Loads and loads of cars, buses and taxis, all beeping and squashing together in the streets.  It was absolute chaos!

Navigating the traffic in Lima

Amongst the traffic, we could sometimes catch small glimpses of life in Lima.  Clowns running out at a red light to perform to drivers for spare change.  Big prestigious football academies, where uniformed children flocked together to play ball.  And sunny parks with people taking siestas under the palm trees.

But for the most part, I didn't see very much of Lima.  It was the last two days of the tour, and I was tired and starting to look forward to home.

I did however get the chance to try the famous Peruvian cocktail: the Pisco sour.  Made with pisco, lemon juice, and egg white, this drink was pretty delicious – but I must say, the caipirinha still holds the highest place in my heart.

The caipirinha - pure deliciousness.

Finally, after a long bus ride through traffic and an even longer wait for our boarding cards, we began our sixteen-hour journey back to Germany.  We had an amazing trip to South America.  I hope it won't be too long before we visit this beautiful continent again!

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.

Ten Tips for Touring

As you may have noticed, I've been doing a lot of touring lately.  As well as travelling around Germany for various projects, this season I've been in a concert tour of China and Korea.  I just got back from a trip to Spain, and I'm now gearing up for a big tour of South America in April.

Being on tour is an intense experience.  You are with the same group of people, repeating the same programme and travelling together for days on end.  It takes a lot of energy and focus, as well as patience and good humour.  Here are some important things which I've learned about what it takes to be a happy touring musician...

(Psst... You might want to start by getting a bigger suitcase)

1. Stay on top of the paperwork

Touring is rarely as simple as flying from point A to point B.  Often you will have to travel to several different locations, and apply for all of the relevant working visas.  Take it from me – you should start on this as early as possible.  Usually your employer will tell you what you need and which forms to fill out, but you may also need to look into some of this stuff on your own.  And even when you think it's all sorted, there can always be further complications and delays.  I recently had to apply for a temporary second passport at the Canadian embassy, and I'm glad I started early.  As it turned out, they needed English translations of the letters from my employers.  This inevitably took some extra time.  Imagine if I had left all of this until the last minute.  I would have never got the passport in time for the tour.  I would have been landlocked, and lost out on ten days of work!

2. Be prepared for anything

Sunshine, rain, snow, plagues of locusts – you need to pack for every possibility you can imagine.  You'll be kicking yourself if you get to a cold concert hall and realise you've forgotten your long sleeves at home.  Never say never.  Anything can happen on tour.

Betty and Jim really wished they had brought their locust repellent with them to Egypt.

3. Bring along a piece of home

Travelling from hotel to hotel can be stressful and exhausting.  So it's important to make your temporary residence as comfortable and home-y as possible.  Everyone has different things which make them feel at home.  Whether it's a cup of tea, a pair of fuzzy slippers, or a favourite movie on their laptop, these things can transform a cold soul-less hotel room into your home away from home.  Don't underestimate the importance of these small creature comforts.  They can really help you negotiate the stress of long-term travel.

Fuzzy slippers are really important, you guys!

4. Find some regularity

Another way to handle the stress of touring is to create your own regularity within the irregularity.  Having some routines and habits can help everything feel a lot less chaotic.  I have a bit of a ritual when I arrive at a new place.  I unpack my suitcase in a particular order, I have a short nap if there’s time, and then I warm up before heading to the venue.  It's important to me that I unpack right away, so that I can feel settled as soon as possible.  Aside from my unpacking ritual, I am also a member of a gym which has locations all over Germany.  This means that no matter where in the country I'm working, I can always go to my gym and know my way around.  These may seem like small details, but they really help me feel comfortable on the road.

5. Do some forward planning

When you’re travelling for work, there isn't as much space for being spontaneous as there would be on holiday.  Your sightseeing time is limited, and you can't just wander aimlessly hoping to run into something cool.  So research the places you'll be visiting.  What is unique there which you absolutely must see?  When might you have time between rehearsals and concerts to go and see it?  I'm not saying you have to make yourself a detailed itinerary, but it helps to have a rough idea of what you will see when.  I had an amazing visit recently to the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao.  I was particularly inspired by the exhibit of Niki de Saint Phalle.  I'm so glad I put some time aside to go and see it!

Seriously, how cool is this??

6. Pace yourself

Touring requires a lot of energy and endurance.  You have to think of the long game – this is a marathon, not a sprint!  It is of utmost importance that you conserve your health and energy through to the very end of the trip.  Know your own body and be sensible enough to rest when you need it.  You may feel a bit blue about missing a night at the bar or an afternoon of sightseeing, but it's better to make that sacrifice than to end up sick for the rest of the tour.

"Ahhhh.... made it."

7. Keep it fresh

One of the toughest things about touring is that you're usually performing the same piece, over and over.  But just because the music is old news to you, doesn't mean it should sound like that to the audience!  This is the first time they're hearing your performance, and they want to hear something fresh and inspiring.  So don't let yourself coast.  Keep looking for new things in the music, and trying to outdo yourself.  Could that phrase have a smoother legato?  Could that high note have a better approach?  Remember – the biggest room in the world is the room for improvement.

This is also a very big room.

8. Set a budget

You can spend crazy amounts of money on tour if you’re not careful.  The last thing you want is to come home to an empty bank account!  Many employers will pay you a per diem for your meals, which can provide a good guideline for your daily spending limit.  However there are some companies who don't provide a per diem, and if you're not careful you can eat up most of your fee before you've even been paid.  I like to take out a set amount of cash every week, based on a daily spending limit.  Some days I might go above or below this limit, but I always make sure it averages out in the end.  As long as I don't need to take out more cash before the week is out, it's all good.  This trick is even easier if you're visiting a country with a different currency.  If you only buy so many pesos from your bank, you will only have so much with you on tour.

Benito Juarez is judging your spending habits.

9. Do it like the locals

Why go all the way to Japan only to spend all your time in Starbucks?  You have a unique opportunity here to explore a new country.  Get out there and enjoy it!  Check out the local food, the local wines, the theatres, the museums, the festivals and marketplaces – everything which makes this place unique.  You may never have a chance in your life to do all of this again.  So seize the day!

10. Schedule some time to crash post-tour

You will be tired after a tour, especially if it's a week or longer.  So for the love of God, don't plan an important meeting the day you get back!  Sometimes these things can't be helped.  But if you have any control over your schedule (which freelancers normally do) make sure you have an empty day or two when you get home.  You'll need this time to rest, recover, and tackle that giant mountain of laundry sitting in your suitcase.

"Send help!"

Touring can be a real hoot!  It can also be a gruelling nightmare if you're not careful.  In the end, it all comes down to how you approach it.  So be smart and organised, plan ahead, and try to keep a healthy balance between work and play.

I hope these tips will help you make the most of your next tour.  Happy travels!

Asian Tour - Korea and China

It's been a week now since I came home, but the memories of my great Asian adventure are still fresh in my mind.  I was on tour for two weeks with the Lübeck Choir Academy, singing Orff’s Carmina Burana and Mendelssohn’s Elijah.  It would be impossible to capture everything I experienced in one blog post, but I'm going to try at least to paint a good picture.

After a long journey, we arrived tired and disoriented in the city of Tongyeong, South Korea.  Although it was the middle of the afternoon (Korea is 8 hours ahead of Germany), to us it felt like very early morning.  And unless we were lucky enough to possess the freakish ability to sleep on a plane, we had missed a night's sleep.  Now, I know in theory that at this point you're supposed to combat jetlag by powering through the afternoon and going to bed early.  But really, who can resist the siren call of the afternoon nap?  Sure enough, I regretted my nap later, when I found it impossible to sleep at bedtime.

 It didn't take long for me to realise Korea is not a great place for vegetarians.  My Korean friend had kindly written out a little card for me, explaining that I couldn't eat meat or fish.  But when I presented this to waiters in restaurants, I was usually met with blank stares.  My first night in Tongyeong, I subsisted on beer and kimchi – a favourite Korean appetiser of spicy pickled cabbage.  As the week continued, I didn't fare much better, although I was delighted to discover the delicious variety of meat-free snacks at the local convenience store.  It was a revelation when I discovered the Italian restaurant outside our concert hall.  Much pizza eating ensued.

Korean appetisers - just about the only Korea food I ate.

Two vegetarians saved by the power of pizza!

But while I missed out on the wonders of Korean cuisine (apparently the barbecue is something special) I really enjoyed meeting the people.  Everyone I came across seemed very open and friendly, and it was easy to connect with them despite the language barrier.  I'll never forget the funny little lady who served us at a restaurant our first night.  One of us asked if they served chicken, to which she replied "chicken NO", making a cross with her arms for emphasis.  When it was getting late and she saw more singers looking into the window, she closed the blinds on their faces, making it humourously clear that the restaurant was closing.

Chicken NO!!!

Of course, being tall and white with blonde hair made me something of a local curiosity.  I don't think they see many foreigners around Tongyeong, and people made no bones of pointing, staring, and even taking pictures of me and my European companions.  At times it felt like being an animal at the zoo.  But it was never meant badly – it was simple curiosity.  When my friend and I – both fair-haired – sat in the back of the concert hall for a schools concert, we were anything but inconspicuous.  All the children turned around to look at us, and one brave boy even started a small conversation in English.  It was obviously an exciting novelty for him to speak English to real foreigners.  He managed to ask our names and where we came from before dissolving in a fit of giggles.  Mostly though, the children just waved at us.  There was a lot of waving.

In our free time we explored the city of Tongyeong and the local islands.  Tongyeong is a colourful city, with hills of houses and shops sporting impressive murals on their sides.

One of the many murals in Tongyeong

The city also boasts an extensive fish market, with tubs full of live squid, eels, octopus, stingray, sharks, and… other sea things.

Do I even WANT to know what these are??

Those of us who were out and about on a Sunday noticed there was some kind of shamanistic festivity taking place.  Nobody was really able to explain to us what this was.  All we know is there was some praying and incense and a lot of dead pigs involved.

I don't get it.

A small group of us explored the insides of the big sturdy "turtle boats" in which the Koreans once fought the Japanese.  We then travelled by boat to the beautiful Hansando island, where there was a temple dedicated to the commander of one of these battles.  The island and the temple were beautiful, but I was surprised to see a lot of extremely drunk middle-aged men riding the ferry.  Apparently this is a thing people do in Korea.  Get drunk and go to the temple.

Many of the men wanted pictures with us, while the women were fascinated by the tall German baritone in our company ("handsome!").  Some of the drinkers were quite determined to share a swig from their bottle – "Korean whisky!"  It took some convincing before they finally gave up on us.

Exploring Hansando Island

Our visit culminated beautifully with our final concert.  As we finished the final chords of the famous O Fortuna, the Tongyeong audience didn't wait a millisecond before bursting into uproarious applause!  I had never seen such a warm and open-hearted response from an audience before, and I couldn't help being moved to tears.  As we began our second encore – a well-known Korean folksong – the audience smiled and clapped in appreciation.  It was a beautiful moment of connection.  I think right then we all felt the power music has to join people's hearts together.

The next day we flew to Shanghai, where we were joined by more singers and began rehearsing Elijah with the Shanghai Symphony Orchestra, as well as preparing the fully orchestrated version of Carmina Burana with their conductor Long Yu.  The orchestra welcomed us in their new state-of-the-art concert hall, and it didn't take long before we felt right at home.

Shanghai is an incredible city.  The word "cosmopolitan" doesn't even begin to cover it.  It's like the whole world has gathered to live in one place.  Name any food or retail chain in the world, and you can probably find it in Shanghai.  If you're visiting China, I would highly recommend starting here.  Due to its colonial history, the city feels very European, and people are well accustomed to seeing foreigners.  So while it definitely feels Chinese, you don't experience quite the same culture shock.  It's kind of like China Lite(TM).

Shanghai is full of contradictions.  You'll see amazing juxtapositions of new world and old, such as an ancient Buddhist temple nestled amongst skyscrapers.

The Jing'an Temple in downtown Shanghai

And in the middle of this supposedly communist country, you'll see rampant displays of capitalism.  I've never seen more consumerist culture than I did in Shanghai.  The main shopping street, Nanjing Road, is something like Times Square on crack.  Everything is bigger, louder, brighter, and faster than you can imagine.

One of the favourite things I saw on Nanjing Road was the "dancing aunties" – groups of older ladies who get together and do choreographed aerobic-style dances in the street.  Imagine walking down the street and seeing a big group of women dancing in unison.  This is a totally normal occurrence in Shanghai!

Trying to keep up with the dancing aunties' moves

Outside of the pedestrian shopping streets, things get a bit crazier.  I've never seen such blatant disregard for traffic lights in all my life!  Back in Canada, people rarely honk their horns unless they're being extremely rude.  Most of the time they follow traffic lights with a quiet, polite obedience.  In Shanghai the street is a messy cacophony of honking horns, speeding motorcycles and deadly juggernaut buses.  If you're crossing the street, you better pray to God you'll make it safely to the other side.  Because nobody here cares about your safety – or your right of way.

The streets were worth braving, however, because there were some amazing sights to see in the city.  From the lights of the towers on the Bund to a wall of flowers, to the friendly local bars with resident cats and novel cocktail recipes, Shanghai was full of pleasant surprises.

Oscar, of Oscar's Bar, surveys the cocktail menu.

Standing in front of the wall of flowers (which had rather unfortunate lighting choices)

The Bund at nighttime

Basil drop cocktails - made with vodka, lemon juice, and crushed basil.
Delicious!

The food in China wasn't much better for me than in Korea.  I was delighted to find a tofu dish on one menu, only to find there were big chunks of sausage mixed in.  Apparently the Chinese don't see tofu as a meat-substitute the way we do.  Nevertheless, simply by nature of being in a bigger city, I was usually able to find something I could eat.

The exchange rate from euros to Yuan is pretty generous, so many of us felt some degree of financial release.  It was kind of like being rich for a week.  I splurged on a massage and a manicure – luxuries I would never allow myself back in Germany.  And at the markets were full of a variety of inexpensive quality goods – once you argued the price down, that is.  Many of us became adept at haggling, which could turn into a very dramatic exchange.  I often saw people walk away, pretending to lose interest, only to be chased down and dragged back into the shop by the salesman "no wait, I give you best price.  Cheap-uh cheap-uh!"  I suppose it was very good practice for contract negotiation (although with contracts you would want to argue the money in the other direction).  Some people had jackets and concert dresses custom-made at the textile market, while others bought excellent imitations of brand-name items at the "fake" market.  I bought a wireless "Bose" speaker for my boyfriend, and had a beautiful set of concert jewelry made at the pearl market.  And all for less than 35 euros!

Custom-made dresse at the textile market

There was one less glamorous aspect of Shanghai though – the toilets.  The toilets in Korea had ranged from the pedestrian to the extraordinary.  Some of the toilets in the concert hall had looked like something out of science fiction, and offered various options on an attached remote control (I was not brave enough to sample these myself, but I heard they were rather.. exhilarating).  In Shanghai, however, most of the public toilets were holes in the ground.  These are probably more hygienic in a way (who wants to sit on a seat when so many butts have been there before??).  But when you're not used to squatting, it's quite an unexpected workout for your thighs!

The squatting didn't bother me so much.  After all, like any red-blooded Canadian girl, I've done my share of peeing in the woods.  What really bothered me was the lack of flushing.  Most of the toilets – even the ones in our hotel, which were conventional Western toilets – never really flushed properly.  So instead of throwing used toilet paper in the toilet, most people simply throw it in the bin.  Now, don't try to tell me that that's more hygienic.

Moving on to more savoury topics, both our concerts in Shanghai went very well.  It was thrilling to perform Carmina with a full orchestra, and our conductor was full of energy and intensity.  His enthusiastic counting to the orchestra ensured we all knew how to count to three in Chinese – ee ar suh, ee ear suh, ee ear suh!  And we were joined by an adorable children's choir, who looked absolutely angelic in their white-and-gold sailor-style uniforms.

Performing Carmina Burana with the SSO and our angelic children's choir

While Carmina ran pretty smoothly from the get-go, Elijah had a few hiccups in the beginning.  The alto soloist had learned her part in English.  Luckily, thanks to some coachings from one of our basses, she was able to re-learn it pretty quickly auf Deutsch.  Meanwhile one of our altos helped her out by jumping in as the Königin, a very dramatic and wordy part which would have been rather difficult for a non-German speaker to learn at the last minute.  We were all stunned by the Königin's intense and skilful performance.  It was awesome to see one of our own get a chance to shine!

The hall was less full for Elijah than for Carmina – I suppose German oratorio is not really Shanghai's thing.  But we still had a good-sized audience, and following a successful performance from orchestra, choir and soloists, we received a very nice standing ovation.

Finally it was time to go home, and after picking up some last minute souvenirs at the markets we headed to the airport for a midnight flight to Frankfurt.

Everyone's settled back into their respective homes now, and we've been making up for a week without facebook by posting millions of awesome photos and videos from the trip.  My jetlag may have faded, and my suitcase may be unpacked, but I still feel as though a part of me remains in Asia.  I certainly hope I'll get the opportunity to visit again.

Lucerne Festival - Week 3

Our third week in Lucerne has been nothing short of unforgettable.

We began the week by moving into the concert venue, and meeting our new friends in the orchestra.  On Monday we watched as they did a read-through of the piece, and put us all to shame.  I can't imagine the choir being able to hold the piece together so well on our first day.  We had a full week of sectionals before we even sang together as a full choir!  We were all very impressed by the orchestra, and excited to join them for the first tutti rehearsal.

The Culture and Congress Centre Lucerne, or KKL - home to the Lucerne Festival.

Next it was time for us all to meet our instrument "siblings".  Instead of sitting separately from the orchestra as usual, in Coro the choir sits in the orchestra.  Every singer is paired with an instrument, or "spirit animal" as my friend liked to call it.  This instrument plays alongside you for the whole piece, sometimes in unison, and sometimes embellishing or harmonising with your part.  I was paired with a clarinet, as was my neighbour.  It was somewhat disorienting to go from singing in a choir to sitting in the middle of the orchestra.  I was used to hearing the other altos.  Suddenly all I could hear around me were clarinets and alto saxophone!

Actually, most of the time the orchestra made things much easier for us.  Our instrumental siblings' parts were cleverly written, so that they would often give us our notes.  No more trying to pluck random pitches from thin air!  My tuning fork wasn't such a desperate necessity anymore – still, I liked having it around at all times.  It was something like a security blanket, lying by my side just in case.

"It's ok.  Tuney will keep me safe."

Then again, there were also passages where the orchestra was playing completely different rhythms or notes from the choir.  At times like this you had to be extremely confident with your part –  watch the conductor like a hawk, and just keep plowing ahead.

Speaking of conductors, we were lucky enough to have a great captain at the helm of our crazy ship.  Sir Simon Rattle always kept the rehearsals fun and full of entertainment.  We were all surprised by how human he was.  Despite his fame, he was no diva conductor in an ivory tower.  He was an extremely charming and personable man, and eminently quotable.  We all enjoyed sharing his little quips over facebook and twitter.  In fact if you look up the hashtag "sirsimonsays" you might find a few gems which we heard from him this week.

Sir Rattle made sure that we did a run-through of the piece in each rehearsal.  At first I didn't understand the point of this – surely it wasted a lot of time we should be spending on fixing mistakes and going over the tricky bits?  But after a while I began to see the value of these run-throughs.  Each time we did the whole piece in one go, it held closer together as a whole.  We became familiar with the piece's rhythm and shape.  We knew how each part flowed into the next.  When we had to be on tenterhooks for the next movement, and when we could look forward to a well-earned rest.  With each run-through, we gained a bit of confidence, and the final performance became a bit less daunting.

When you're singing for such a prominent conductor, you tend to take every little thing he says to heart.  One time the Maestro critiqued my English diction, and I was beating myself up about it all day.  Another time I was singing a folky French solo, and he wanted it to sound more dirty.  "You sound like you washed this morning," he said, "and we don’t want that."  I seriously considered not showering for a week, just to please him.  Then again, I don't think my colleagues would have appreciated that.

"WHAT??!  I'm doing this for the sake of art!!"

Between rehearsals, we had the privilege of attending some amazing concerts with world class artists.  Now that the festival had begun in earnest, we regularly had opportunities to hear artists such as Midori or Lang Lang performing live.  Evenings often saw us lining up for last-minute discount tickets, as we tried to soak up as much of the festival as we could.

Before we knew it, the final performance was upon us.  We prepared a free lecture concert, a sort of "aperitif" for anyone interested in hearing the full piece the following day.  The hall filled up very quickly with curious concertgoers.  Some people even had to be turned away at the door.  Sir Rattle spoke to the audience with ease and charm.  He was particularly enamoured with the beanbag chairs in the front row, which he suggested introducing to the Berlin Phil.

BEANBAG CHAIRS FOR ALL!!!!

As the day of the performance arrived, we were all beginning to feel the pressure.  The first half of the concert would also include a world premiere by Korean composer Unsuk Chin, sung by Barbara Hannigan.  Talia Berio, musicologist and second wife of the late Luciano Berio, would be attending.  And we would have the longest list of attending press which the Festival Academy had ever seen.  Coro is a rarely performed piece which has never been heard at Lucerne Festival before.  The piece is notoriously difficult.  Everyone was curious to see how we – and of course, Simon Rattle – interpreted the music.

When we finally walked onstage in the second half of the concert, the air was electric with excitement.  We were all bundles of nervous energy.  But after so many run-throughs and rehearsals, together we felt strong and confident.  We harnessed all our adrenaline and nerves and gave our very best performance.  It was truly a magical hour.

As an encore, at Sir Rattle's suggestion, we sang Purcell’s "Hear my prayer o Lord".  It made a soulful, reflective epilogue to the concert, and contrasted starkly with Berio's intense, chaotic piece, which Rattle had described to us as a "21^st century version of a Bach passion."

Finally, after all our hard work, it was time to let our hair down.  We were all invited to an afterparty at a nearby hotel with cheap (for Switzerland at least) drinks.  Even the Maestro attended, and those of us who hadn't yet had the chance queued up to get our "Simon selfie".

My Simon selfie, complete with awestruck onlooker.

It's always difficult after a project like this to say goodbye to so many lovely colleagues from around the world.  We've become very attached to each other over the past three weeks, bonding as an ensemble and as friends.  It's hard to believe that this is the end, that we'll never see each other again.  Which is why I always like to say "see you soon".  After all, the music world is so small, it's quite likely that I will.  And even if I won't, it's a comforting thought, isn't it?  Easier than thinking this is goodbye forever.

The choir has now scattered around the globe to their respective homes.  Only nine of us have stayed behind to do a week of masterclasses with Barbara Hannigan.  We miss our Coro ensemble, and the comeraderie which we shared as we tackled this crazy piece together.  A piece which once seemed so terrifying, and is now a fond memory for us all.  We may move on to new pieces, new challenges, but Berio's melodies will surely be haunting us for years to come.