Thursday, July 29, 2004
A World First!
Actually, it's not a world first, I think it's a world second...What is it, you ask?
DOUG IS POSTING TWICE IN ONE DAY
Not really worth the build-up, was it?
Anyway, the reason I am posting twice in one day is that I felt like a walk, and had time to use up at this internet cafe (I bought the student special of 4 hours for 10 euros; you don't have to use it all at once). It's 9:02pm and still very hot here in Rouen, which bodes well for my travels further South: it's going to get hotter and hotter, and there is such a thing as too hot (can I believe I just said that?).
Today Dad and I had a cruise round and went to the Musee des Beaux Arts (sorry French scholars about the lack of appropriate accents, I don't know how to get them on this computer, and I'm cheating by using an English keyboard). It was awesome! I got to see Rubens, Carravaggio and some other dude that I studied in that unexpected Art History paper that I took last year, as well as a significant Impressionist collection including lots of Monet, Sisley, and some R... what was his name? ...........not Raphael, wrong era...........Renoir! (I had to look in the brochure, just to prove that I'm not a pompous culture buff-oon)
I just read an email asking me, "How was the singing?" which made me realise that I haven't said much on the subject in this blog. Poor form, eh? So, here are...
Some notes on the singing (pardon the pun, I really didn't intend it; it just came out that way): The singing was awesome!!! It was, afterall, the main point of the tour that got me to Europe in the first place. There is something entirely different about singing in a famous hall or cathedral, quite removed from just visiting a place and taking photos - which, of course, we did as well, where permitted. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but when singing in a place, not only do you get to see the beautiful frescoes and marvellous, mind-boggling architecture, but you get to hear the place, too. Every space sounds different, and you can hear it, particularly when you get to sing the same pieces in many different, amazing places. The piece changes a little in each space, it feels different and you have to get used to it, like a pianist playing an unfamiliar piano. The same basic instrument is the same, but the tone is different, the pressure required on the keys may vary, depressing a pedal may have radically different consequences to what you're used to (particularly on some very "special" specimens). And I guess that's the thing, as a singer (or maybe just as a choir?) the space you perform in becomes part of the instrument you are using, and it tells you something about the character and structure of a place.
Also, just general choir stuff was really cool, you could feel things changing every day as we got massively better over a short space of time, and that affected the atmosphere of the choir, too. People became pretty close in a short time, like a big family, and I talked with people I didn't really know very well before and roomed with people I would never have expected to end up rooming with. It was very cool.
Ah... very cool.
DOUG IS POSTING TWICE IN ONE DAY
Not really worth the build-up, was it?
Anyway, the reason I am posting twice in one day is that I felt like a walk, and had time to use up at this internet cafe (I bought the student special of 4 hours for 10 euros; you don't have to use it all at once). It's 9:02pm and still very hot here in Rouen, which bodes well for my travels further South: it's going to get hotter and hotter, and there is such a thing as too hot (can I believe I just said that?).
Today Dad and I had a cruise round and went to the Musee des Beaux Arts (sorry French scholars about the lack of appropriate accents, I don't know how to get them on this computer, and I'm cheating by using an English keyboard). It was awesome! I got to see Rubens, Carravaggio and some other dude that I studied in that unexpected Art History paper that I took last year, as well as a significant Impressionist collection including lots of Monet, Sisley, and some R... what was his name? ...........not Raphael, wrong era...........Renoir! (I had to look in the brochure, just to prove that I'm not a pompous culture buff-oon)
I just read an email asking me, "How was the singing?" which made me realise that I haven't said much on the subject in this blog. Poor form, eh? So, here are...
Some notes on the singing (pardon the pun, I really didn't intend it; it just came out that way): The singing was awesome!!! It was, afterall, the main point of the tour that got me to Europe in the first place. There is something entirely different about singing in a famous hall or cathedral, quite removed from just visiting a place and taking photos - which, of course, we did as well, where permitted. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but when singing in a place, not only do you get to see the beautiful frescoes and marvellous, mind-boggling architecture, but you get to hear the place, too. Every space sounds different, and you can hear it, particularly when you get to sing the same pieces in many different, amazing places. The piece changes a little in each space, it feels different and you have to get used to it, like a pianist playing an unfamiliar piano. The same basic instrument is the same, but the tone is different, the pressure required on the keys may vary, depressing a pedal may have radically different consequences to what you're used to (particularly on some very "special" specimens). And I guess that's the thing, as a singer (or maybe just as a choir?) the space you perform in becomes part of the instrument you are using, and it tells you something about the character and structure of a place.
Also, just general choir stuff was really cool, you could feel things changing every day as we got massively better over a short space of time, and that affected the atmosphere of the choir, too. People became pretty close in a short time, like a big family, and I talked with people I didn't really know very well before and roomed with people I would never have expected to end up rooming with. It was very cool.
Ah... very cool.
Ahhh... Par lez vooz Angles?
Can you believe it?! I've been in FRANCE for three days now.
We arrived in Calais on Tuesday around 1pm, and I got to put my French to the test, with interesting results.
First, at the train station, I managed to successfully book us tickets to Rouen for the next day, even though I had only intended to make inquiries. That was ok, though, because I think we ended up on one of the cheaper modes of transport; a train that stopped at EVERY stop and took about three or four times as long as it could have. Then, talking to the man I had just bought tickets from, I tried to find out which bus to catch to get to a camping ground on the far side of Bleriot Plage. I made such a meal of it that the guy stared at me with a frown and his mouth hanging open, then shook his head in exasperation and said, "Speak English!"
Second, with the busdriver, I managed to get us dropped off at the wrong camping ground, which was full, and we had to walk about 3 or 4 km in the hot sun with our bursting-at-the-seams packs crushing us inches into the ground at every step (please excuse wild exaggeration) to the next camping ground. Which, fortunately, turned out to be really nice and pretty cheap, and mainly full of French people. We caught the train next day to Rouen.
Since those early small disasters, I have managed to successfully make enquiries about rooms and prices in hotels, and Dad and I are now staying in a pretty cheap little hotel directly opposite an old church, and about 150 metres from the train station. We are on the 4th floor (which, in New Zealand would be the 5th floor, because they start counting from the first floor up, here) which I love because we are on a level with the statues on the old church, and with it's clock tower, and which Dad does not love because of the obstacle of a large number of stairs between us and the street. There is a little corner store very near by, where I think they think I am French, so far, because all I've had to say to them is: bonjour, ca coute combien? Combien? Ah, oui (*hand over money*). Au revoir! Nothing complicated.
I was awoken this morning by the chiming of the clock (big clock; big, loud bells) outside our window at 8am. Dad said workmen had been working nearby since 7am, but I didn't really notice. Thankfully Dad didn't snore much last night, so I got a pretty good night's sleep (Calais was a different story, but lets let bygones be bygones, eh?). Today we're looking at finding accommodation in St. Malo or Mont St. Michel, one of which will be our next destination. We're in Rouen for two more nights so we can explore the city a bit. There are huge buildings here, like the Palais de Justice (courthouse?) and the cathedral, which have bits pelted out of them and shattered masonry and ornamental towers and parts of walls missing; a result of bullets and shelling during WWII. Also, this is the town where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, totured and burnt at the stake. We have already walked past the ancient tower where she was kept prisoner several times, as it's near our hotel. I want to find the massive cross that marks the place of her death. It is so strange that she was denounced as a heretic for political convenience and killed, then later made a saint, and now generates tourist revenue for the town of her death. Politics, religion, treachery, death, and money all mixed up together. It is good to know that God is actually someone real, behind the words of Christianity, because the religion itself, in the hands of wicked people, has been besmirched by some strange and terrible deeds.
Umm, anyway. I think I'm going to come home before Christmas, like mid-December, I think. But, until then, love you and miss you!
We arrived in Calais on Tuesday around 1pm, and I got to put my French to the test, with interesting results.
First, at the train station, I managed to successfully book us tickets to Rouen for the next day, even though I had only intended to make inquiries. That was ok, though, because I think we ended up on one of the cheaper modes of transport; a train that stopped at EVERY stop and took about three or four times as long as it could have. Then, talking to the man I had just bought tickets from, I tried to find out which bus to catch to get to a camping ground on the far side of Bleriot Plage. I made such a meal of it that the guy stared at me with a frown and his mouth hanging open, then shook his head in exasperation and said, "Speak English!"
Second, with the busdriver, I managed to get us dropped off at the wrong camping ground, which was full, and we had to walk about 3 or 4 km in the hot sun with our bursting-at-the-seams packs crushing us inches into the ground at every step (please excuse wild exaggeration) to the next camping ground. Which, fortunately, turned out to be really nice and pretty cheap, and mainly full of French people. We caught the train next day to Rouen.
Since those early small disasters, I have managed to successfully make enquiries about rooms and prices in hotels, and Dad and I are now staying in a pretty cheap little hotel directly opposite an old church, and about 150 metres from the train station. We are on the 4th floor (which, in New Zealand would be the 5th floor, because they start counting from the first floor up, here) which I love because we are on a level with the statues on the old church, and with it's clock tower, and which Dad does not love because of the obstacle of a large number of stairs between us and the street. There is a little corner store very near by, where I think they think I am French, so far, because all I've had to say to them is: bonjour, ca coute combien? Combien? Ah, oui (*hand over money*). Au revoir! Nothing complicated.
I was awoken this morning by the chiming of the clock (big clock; big, loud bells) outside our window at 8am. Dad said workmen had been working nearby since 7am, but I didn't really notice. Thankfully Dad didn't snore much last night, so I got a pretty good night's sleep (Calais was a different story, but lets let bygones be bygones, eh?). Today we're looking at finding accommodation in St. Malo or Mont St. Michel, one of which will be our next destination. We're in Rouen for two more nights so we can explore the city a bit. There are huge buildings here, like the Palais de Justice (courthouse?) and the cathedral, which have bits pelted out of them and shattered masonry and ornamental towers and parts of walls missing; a result of bullets and shelling during WWII. Also, this is the town where Joan of Arc was imprisoned, totured and burnt at the stake. We have already walked past the ancient tower where she was kept prisoner several times, as it's near our hotel. I want to find the massive cross that marks the place of her death. It is so strange that she was denounced as a heretic for political convenience and killed, then later made a saint, and now generates tourist revenue for the town of her death. Politics, religion, treachery, death, and money all mixed up together. It is good to know that God is actually someone real, behind the words of Christianity, because the religion itself, in the hands of wicked people, has been besmirched by some strange and terrible deeds.
Umm, anyway. I think I'm going to come home before Christmas, like mid-December, I think. But, until then, love you and miss you!
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Photos!
Doug e-mailed me a couple of photos, here they are (with captions):
Doug is a worldwide phenomenon, well known in places as far-flung as Maribor, Slovenia
Maribor viewed from the tower of the town's central church
Doug is a worldwide phenomenon, well known in places as far-flung as Maribor, Slovenia
Maribor viewed from the tower of the town's central church
Friday, July 23, 2004
Bon voyage...bientot
We booked our tickets to Calais the other day, and yesterday they arrived! So it's all on, I guess.
Our plan is to travel South through France along the Western side of the country, through Brittany and Normandie, etc., destination: Spain! I'm going to SPAIN! Sounds alright, eh?
I went to see Spiderman 2 last night with Harley and a girl from the choir called Philippa. They're both hanging around in London until this weekend, so it was really good to catch up with them before I left. It meant navigating my own way around the London train and Underground system, and now I like London a lot more, because I have realised how easy it is to get around. The only problem is the cost. Yesterday it cost me £10 to get in and out of London, plus £5 for the movie, and £11 for dinner at an Indian restaurant (which was SUPER DELICIOUS by the way). That's around $75 dollars!!! For one day! Now I really need to cut back. It was worth it to catch up with NZ friends who I now won't see until...well, possibly never for Philippa, and at least 6 months with Harley.
I've discovered that some of the better places to buy electronics over here are shops run by Indian men, because they are willing to barter. I managed to get a camera for up to £80 cheaper than I had seen it elsewhere.
By the way, everyone should pester Paul, because he's got a wee secret that he won't tell me. So, anyone who knows how to get to Paul (I never figured out his weak points, and he's basically immune to tickling), get to it! And then get back to me with the "beans". As in, the beans-that-have-been-spilt. As in, to "Spill the beans"? Um, sweet.
Oh, please pray that my Dad and I find seasonal work in France, so that we can actually live for the rest of the year without resorting to "one split pea in a ten pound tub." Ask Richard about that quote; I've been listening to a particular recording that my uncle has, that Richard may wish was never published and sold in CD stores around NZ.
My Dad talked to an old lady at the laundromat today (a lot of people don't have their own washing/drying facilities here) who has been to NZ to visit her brother. She loved it, and talked about NZ with wet eyes. I'm beginning to understand that sort of feeling now. But I love travelling too. I can't wait to get on, now. Our plan is, after Spain to return to France to work on an orchard or vineyard for a couple of months, then to head to Greece for the Winter. Running out of time!
L8uz!!!
Our plan is to travel South through France along the Western side of the country, through Brittany and Normandie, etc., destination: Spain! I'm going to SPAIN! Sounds alright, eh?
I went to see Spiderman 2 last night with Harley and a girl from the choir called Philippa. They're both hanging around in London until this weekend, so it was really good to catch up with them before I left. It meant navigating my own way around the London train and Underground system, and now I like London a lot more, because I have realised how easy it is to get around. The only problem is the cost. Yesterday it cost me £10 to get in and out of London, plus £5 for the movie, and £11 for dinner at an Indian restaurant (which was SUPER DELICIOUS by the way). That's around $75 dollars!!! For one day! Now I really need to cut back. It was worth it to catch up with NZ friends who I now won't see until...well, possibly never for Philippa, and at least 6 months with Harley.
I've discovered that some of the better places to buy electronics over here are shops run by Indian men, because they are willing to barter. I managed to get a camera for up to £80 cheaper than I had seen it elsewhere.
By the way, everyone should pester Paul, because he's got a wee secret that he won't tell me. So, anyone who knows how to get to Paul (I never figured out his weak points, and he's basically immune to tickling), get to it! And then get back to me with the "beans". As in, the beans-that-have-been-spilt. As in, to "Spill the beans"? Um, sweet.
Oh, please pray that my Dad and I find seasonal work in France, so that we can actually live for the rest of the year without resorting to "one split pea in a ten pound tub." Ask Richard about that quote; I've been listening to a particular recording that my uncle has, that Richard may wish was never published and sold in CD stores around NZ.
My Dad talked to an old lady at the laundromat today (a lot of people don't have their own washing/drying facilities here) who has been to NZ to visit her brother. She loved it, and talked about NZ with wet eyes. I'm beginning to understand that sort of feeling now. But I love travelling too. I can't wait to get on, now. Our plan is, after Spain to return to France to work on an orchard or vineyard for a couple of months, then to head to Greece for the Winter. Running out of time!
L8uz!!!
Monday, July 19, 2004
Was she speaking English?
That's what I asked my Dad today, after walking past a girl talking on her cell phone who I am convinced was speaking Hungarian. Apparently not. It's very weird: I have been in non-English-speaking countries for so long (for a whole month!!) that I don't understand the people around me as speaking my language unless I really concentrate. Plus this girl had a particularly bizzarre British accent, like someone off Coronation Street with a rubber band around her tongue.
It turns out that Russia is not actually such a place of death, destruction and duldrums as I may have made out. After the unfortunate incident with the camera I spent a long time in my hostel room thinking and writing by myself, and then decided to get over it and get back out there. I've seen the most incredible buildings and monuments, as well as examples of the most abject poverty I have seen in my wonderfully sheltered life.
At Peterhoff palace I saw the most amazing fountain I have ever seen, with about fifty figures or more, all of them near life-size or bigger, covered in gold and many spraying water in all directions. Some were classical figures, like Perseus with the Medusa's head, some were Russian figures of muscly men strangling snakes (this is a major symbol in Russia, representing the victory over the Swiss or Swedish army, I can't remember which), and at the centre of the fountain is an enormous statue of a golden Samson wrestling open the mouth of an enormous golden lion, which sprays a massive column of water 62 feet into the air. The plume then comes crashing down on Samsons head and shoulders, which makes it kind of comical. You imagine he would get an aweful headache.
The same day, when walking to my hostel, I saw a little old lady using an old jar to collect rainwater to drink from one of the massive drainpipes that run down the sides of all the buildings. You can't drink the tapwater in Saint Petersburg because it has giardia in it, and I guess she couldn't afford to buy bottled water.
The average Russian earns $40 USD per month (declared income), and there are people in the poorer parts of the country that earn 50 roubles per month. That's about NZ $2.50. Fifty percent of the gross national product goes to fortyseven people, out of a population of 144 million. Crazy place.
Obviously I'm in the UK, now, and I can't say I'm not pretty glad. It's a relief to have a rest for a while, although I feel as though I ought to be on the go all the time, exploring the city, doing a concert, having a bus tour, meeting fifteen other people for dinner... I need to calm down and breathe for a bit.
Cool Stuff: I have mostly puzzled out the Cyrillic alphabet! I started trying to read signs in St Petersburg as soon as I arrived, and using movie titles, actors' names and transliterated English (like Photo Service) I was able to work out the pronunciation of most of the alphabet. For the rest I talked to the director of the documentary crew who were travelling with us, and he completed my notes and gave me extra pronunciation tips.
The steward on the plane last night (on flight one from Moscow to Munich) was really cool! He also works as a bartender in Venice, and he was showing off for the Kiwis, throwing cartons of juice in the air and spinning them around and stuff. He also plied us with drinks, saying things like, "Go on, go on. Have a Bailey's!" So we all had Bailey's.
Funny Stuff: Amelia was totally spaded by two French guys on flight one. The rest of us were forced to invent new sign language for, "You're in!" It involves pointing and circling motions and indiscreet grinning (and giggling). They gave her their cards, and one of them turned out to be the deputy mayor of one of the principalities of Paris, Haute Seine. 1000 points for Amelia. I wasn't totally eavesdropping the whole time (I was sitting across the aisle) but I did hear Amelia teaching them how to make donkey noises (apparently animal noises are different in French). Ask her to explain that one when she gets home!
See y'all! Thanks so much for reading about my travels. I especially appreciate the comments and emails. Don't worry, this blog will keep going, and I intend to make it funnier than it has been for the last wee while... Russia doesn't really inspire a light heart and merry humour, but England promises to be truly absurd :)
It turns out that Russia is not actually such a place of death, destruction and duldrums as I may have made out. After the unfortunate incident with the camera I spent a long time in my hostel room thinking and writing by myself, and then decided to get over it and get back out there. I've seen the most incredible buildings and monuments, as well as examples of the most abject poverty I have seen in my wonderfully sheltered life.
At Peterhoff palace I saw the most amazing fountain I have ever seen, with about fifty figures or more, all of them near life-size or bigger, covered in gold and many spraying water in all directions. Some were classical figures, like Perseus with the Medusa's head, some were Russian figures of muscly men strangling snakes (this is a major symbol in Russia, representing the victory over the Swiss or Swedish army, I can't remember which), and at the centre of the fountain is an enormous statue of a golden Samson wrestling open the mouth of an enormous golden lion, which sprays a massive column of water 62 feet into the air. The plume then comes crashing down on Samsons head and shoulders, which makes it kind of comical. You imagine he would get an aweful headache.
The same day, when walking to my hostel, I saw a little old lady using an old jar to collect rainwater to drink from one of the massive drainpipes that run down the sides of all the buildings. You can't drink the tapwater in Saint Petersburg because it has giardia in it, and I guess she couldn't afford to buy bottled water.
The average Russian earns $40 USD per month (declared income), and there are people in the poorer parts of the country that earn 50 roubles per month. That's about NZ $2.50. Fifty percent of the gross national product goes to fortyseven people, out of a population of 144 million. Crazy place.
Obviously I'm in the UK, now, and I can't say I'm not pretty glad. It's a relief to have a rest for a while, although I feel as though I ought to be on the go all the time, exploring the city, doing a concert, having a bus tour, meeting fifteen other people for dinner... I need to calm down and breathe for a bit.
Cool Stuff: I have mostly puzzled out the Cyrillic alphabet! I started trying to read signs in St Petersburg as soon as I arrived, and using movie titles, actors' names and transliterated English (like Photo Service) I was able to work out the pronunciation of most of the alphabet. For the rest I talked to the director of the documentary crew who were travelling with us, and he completed my notes and gave me extra pronunciation tips.
The steward on the plane last night (on flight one from Moscow to Munich) was really cool! He also works as a bartender in Venice, and he was showing off for the Kiwis, throwing cartons of juice in the air and spinning them around and stuff. He also plied us with drinks, saying things like, "Go on, go on. Have a Bailey's!" So we all had Bailey's.
Funny Stuff: Amelia was totally spaded by two French guys on flight one. The rest of us were forced to invent new sign language for, "You're in!" It involves pointing and circling motions and indiscreet grinning (and giggling). They gave her their cards, and one of them turned out to be the deputy mayor of one of the principalities of Paris, Haute Seine. 1000 points for Amelia. I wasn't totally eavesdropping the whole time (I was sitting across the aisle) but I did hear Amelia teaching them how to make donkey noises (apparently animal noises are different in French). Ask her to explain that one when she gets home!
See y'all! Thanks so much for reading about my travels. I especially appreciate the comments and emails. Don't worry, this blog will keep going, and I intend to make it funnier than it has been for the last wee while... Russia doesn't really inspire a light heart and merry humour, but England promises to be truly absurd :)
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Built like a brick wharepaku
That's a description of my Dad, who I can't wait to see and I wish he was here because my camera was stolen yesterday.
By the way, I'm in St Petersburg, Russia now. Been here since yesterday. It's an amazing city - the buildings are so huge and the statues so monumental. It's very post-communist, too.
I suppose you want to hear the camera story, huh?
The Camera Story: Yesterday I went for a big walk with three others right up to the far end of Nierskiy Prospect, which is the main street of St Petersburg. We went to the square where the Winter Palace is (massive, Baroque) and a huge triumphal pillar made of a single piece of granite (massive, granitty). On the way back to the hostel, we went to MacDonalds for lunch (not very massive, unoriginal). There was a bit of a queue, and I was behind my fellow kiwis when a man jostled me from one side, and another from behind, speaking Russian and pointing. I said, "sorry?" and just thought that the queue was a bit pushy. Then I noticed that my camera, which I had been holding on my front a moment before, was gone from it's pouch, and the strap had been cut from around my neck. I guess I let go of it in my confusion. Luckily, most of my photos are already on a CD in my hostel room, but the ones of Venice and Gorizia are gone.
Despite all that, St Petersburg is a very cool place. The history of this country and this city is fascinating and terrible. Still, I look forward to a time and place where I can feel really safe.
Funny Stuff: We found a menu from which you could order "Pooding" and "Ketchoop." We also ate in a restaurant called Rasputin last night.
I'm learning to pronounce the Cyrillic alphabet by looking at movie titles and actor's names, as well as random other signs. I reckon I'm over halfway through the letters, and man it's weird. They have vowells that look like Latin consonants, and consonants that look like graphics from really crusty old gameboy games.
Sorry about lack of photos - I haven't managed to get to a computer where I can freely use the CD rom drive. See ya!
By the way, I'm in St Petersburg, Russia now. Been here since yesterday. It's an amazing city - the buildings are so huge and the statues so monumental. It's very post-communist, too.
I suppose you want to hear the camera story, huh?
The Camera Story: Yesterday I went for a big walk with three others right up to the far end of Nierskiy Prospect, which is the main street of St Petersburg. We went to the square where the Winter Palace is (massive, Baroque) and a huge triumphal pillar made of a single piece of granite (massive, granitty). On the way back to the hostel, we went to MacDonalds for lunch (not very massive, unoriginal). There was a bit of a queue, and I was behind my fellow kiwis when a man jostled me from one side, and another from behind, speaking Russian and pointing. I said, "sorry?" and just thought that the queue was a bit pushy. Then I noticed that my camera, which I had been holding on my front a moment before, was gone from it's pouch, and the strap had been cut from around my neck. I guess I let go of it in my confusion. Luckily, most of my photos are already on a CD in my hostel room, but the ones of Venice and Gorizia are gone.
Despite all that, St Petersburg is a very cool place. The history of this country and this city is fascinating and terrible. Still, I look forward to a time and place where I can feel really safe.
Funny Stuff: We found a menu from which you could order "Pooding" and "Ketchoop." We also ate in a restaurant called Rasputin last night.
I'm learning to pronounce the Cyrillic alphabet by looking at movie titles and actor's names, as well as random other signs. I reckon I'm over halfway through the letters, and man it's weird. They have vowells that look like Latin consonants, and consonants that look like graphics from really crusty old gameboy games.
Sorry about lack of photos - I haven't managed to get to a computer where I can freely use the CD rom drive. See ya!
Sunday, July 11, 2004
Venezia!
Not a very original title, I know, but it's about as pithy as I get after 10pm in Slovenia.
We went on our day trip to Venice yesterday. The city is almost unbelievable. Venice has always had a kind of fairytale quality about it for me; a city on the sea with roads of water seems too fantastic. However, I can assure you, inasmuch as my own senses are to be trusted, that Venice is a real and fascinating place.
First impressions are gained by sea, as you can only reach the town by boat or train. Seeing huge churches decked with statues and great domed palaces rising straight from the water's edge is... really cool (Doug's vocabulary rises to the challenge, as usual). When you land on the seaside plaza and wander into piazza di San Marco, it seems open and sunny and beautiful. Then you step into the real streets of Venice, and immediately everything closes in. It would be so easy to get lost there.
We sang Duo Seraphim in San Marco cathedral/church. The inside is cunfused with archways and domes, all totally covered in gold mosaic. The ceiling glitters with it, and there is a lot of ceiling to cover... Venice was once the trading centre to the East, and was very wealthy.
My mission was to find a piece of Venetian glass and a mask. I tripped around with Michael and the Ameliae (Amelia W and Amelia G) for a while, then we split up, and I went on an adventure with Amelia G to the other side of Venice. We caught a water bus right up to the top of the Grande Canal. The bus was full of flirting adolescent Italians, and was really fun. From the bus stop we went looking through the less touristy streets for a fabled shop where they made and sold leather masks. Traditional Veneitan masks are made from papier-maché or porcelain for the great Carnivale that happens every February. We never found the leather shop, but walked right around Venice from one side to the other. I bought fresh coconut from a street vendor, and it was delicious. There were fresh fruit and vege markets on that side of Venice, and cafés full of locals, rather than the tourist infested, rip-off-café side near San Marco.
Eventually I found a mask; it's really cool, and bought a small piece of Venetian glass. So, I'm pretty satisfied. Venice is so strange. It's a city of tiny claustrophobic alleyways between tall buildings, of sinking palaces and garish glass everywhere. I think it's basically just a tourist mecca now, especially at this time of year. Amazing, though. Ah. Queue for internet, impatience is building.
We went on our day trip to Venice yesterday. The city is almost unbelievable. Venice has always had a kind of fairytale quality about it for me; a city on the sea with roads of water seems too fantastic. However, I can assure you, inasmuch as my own senses are to be trusted, that Venice is a real and fascinating place.
First impressions are gained by sea, as you can only reach the town by boat or train. Seeing huge churches decked with statues and great domed palaces rising straight from the water's edge is... really cool (Doug's vocabulary rises to the challenge, as usual). When you land on the seaside plaza and wander into piazza di San Marco, it seems open and sunny and beautiful. Then you step into the real streets of Venice, and immediately everything closes in. It would be so easy to get lost there.
We sang Duo Seraphim in San Marco cathedral/church. The inside is cunfused with archways and domes, all totally covered in gold mosaic. The ceiling glitters with it, and there is a lot of ceiling to cover... Venice was once the trading centre to the East, and was very wealthy.
My mission was to find a piece of Venetian glass and a mask. I tripped around with Michael and the Ameliae (Amelia W and Amelia G) for a while, then we split up, and I went on an adventure with Amelia G to the other side of Venice. We caught a water bus right up to the top of the Grande Canal. The bus was full of flirting adolescent Italians, and was really fun. From the bus stop we went looking through the less touristy streets for a fabled shop where they made and sold leather masks. Traditional Veneitan masks are made from papier-maché or porcelain for the great Carnivale that happens every February. We never found the leather shop, but walked right around Venice from one side to the other. I bought fresh coconut from a street vendor, and it was delicious. There were fresh fruit and vege markets on that side of Venice, and cafés full of locals, rather than the tourist infested, rip-off-café side near San Marco.
Eventually I found a mask; it's really cool, and bought a small piece of Venetian glass. So, I'm pretty satisfied. Venice is so strange. It's a city of tiny claustrophobic alleyways between tall buildings, of sinking palaces and garish glass everywhere. I think it's basically just a tourist mecca now, especially at this time of year. Amazing, though. Ah. Queue for internet, impatience is building.
Friday, July 09, 2004
How can I share that moon with you?
Sorry about the lack of information in previous posts, we've been super busy over the last few days because we've been competing in...
The Competition:
The last four days have been a wee bit insane. We competed in one section on Tuesday in an ancient Basilica about 50 minutes out of Gorizia. It was originally built in 313 AD, and has been rebuilt or added to five times on the same spot, each time on the ruins of the previous church. It was so old the floor had sunk in places and some of the mosaic tiles had had their colour worn away, or had been worn away completely.
We competed again on Tuesday, one category in the morning, and one in the afternoon, in a dry little auditorium in Gorizia. Then we had a prize giving and concert in the evening. We won both of those categories, although we officially came "second" because no choir got a high enough score to be awarded "first" prize. Does that make sense? We got the highest score in both those sections, but to get "first" you have to exceed a certain threshold, which no choir exceeded. The threshold was 90, and in one of the sections we got 88.6... It's a very weird system.
Yesterday we competed in the Traditional Music/Gospel and Spiritual section, using all Maori music, including I Te Timatanga, which has a huge haka for the guys, and lots of poi work for the girls. Man, did we rock!!! We all went so hard out it was like being pummeled and spun by a huge breaking wave. I made the ugliest Pukana and had huge red marks all over my arm and chest (the latter, fortunately, was hidden by my shirt). Pukana, by the way, are crazy faces with big eyes, tucked up chin or tongue poked out. Our manager in the audience said the energy was so strong you felt as though you were being pushed back in your seat by it. Man, it was awesome! Then, that evening we had the final prize giving. We won the traditional section. We were awarded both the Judge's Choice and Audience Choice awards for that category, as well as winning Best Director/Conductor, and best Artistic something for having the best overall repertoire throughout the competition. A girl in our choir, Anna Griffiths, also won Best Original Composition for Okarito Tuhituhia October, which we sung in our contemporary section (and which helped us to win that section). In the concert we got to sing all the Maori stuff again, this time for the other choirs rather than for the judges. We blew them away. At both prize-giving/concerts we were given the honour of performing last and capping off the evening, and each time we were asked to sing almost twice as much repertoire as any other choir. Hah! So cool.
Enough of that.
I realised last night just how much of this tour is still to go. We go to Venice tomorrow for the day, which means around 10 hours of wet and wild Venetian delight. How cool is that? I'm going to Venice!!! Then, on Sunday we get to hear last year's winners of all the European Grand Prix competions compete for overall winner. Then, we leave for St Petersburg. Mmmm, Smolny Cathedral, the Hermitage...the overnight train to Moscow... I'm so excited. This tour is unbelievable!
Man, I didn't tell you about our night in Budapest! We sang in a church set on these crazy fairytale white battlements and went for a cruise on the river Danube at night, seeing all the buildings lit up. In the morning we saw Heroes Square, with statues and collonades flanked by two huge twin museums. I reccommend Budapest. Did you know it's actually two cities? Buda and Pest, set on either side of the Danube, which, by the way, is not blue but beige, and wide and fairly shallow.
Funny Stuff: A girl in our choir asked the other day on the bus, "Why is there a Danube in Vienna AND one in Budapest?" Ah, classic. Also, before competing in the ancient Basilica, we were all waiting outside silently and one of the girls had a runny nose. So, she picked an old floppy leaf of the hedge and used that to blow her nose on.
Ooh! Have I mentioned the Mr Silly Awards? Every day (pretty much) nominations are taken for people who have done something particularly silly in the last 24 hours. Then, the choir votes with applause as to who has done the silliest thing, and whoever "wins" has to wear a pair of gold reindeer antlers on a red headband and a fluffy white bowtie for the next 24 hours. There have been some really good ones. There's one guy in the choir who gets nominated almost every day for spading foreign chicks. I've only been nominated once, for accidentally speaking French to a Viennese shop keeper (they speak German) and then (by some freakish coincidence) finding that he replied so quickly in super-fluent French that I couldn't understand a word he said and just had to smile and nod and pretend I was confused by trying to count out my Euros... I didn't win.
Wow, long blog. Hope I can do this again soon!!!
The Competition:
The last four days have been a wee bit insane. We competed in one section on Tuesday in an ancient Basilica about 50 minutes out of Gorizia. It was originally built in 313 AD, and has been rebuilt or added to five times on the same spot, each time on the ruins of the previous church. It was so old the floor had sunk in places and some of the mosaic tiles had had their colour worn away, or had been worn away completely.
We competed again on Tuesday, one category in the morning, and one in the afternoon, in a dry little auditorium in Gorizia. Then we had a prize giving and concert in the evening. We won both of those categories, although we officially came "second" because no choir got a high enough score to be awarded "first" prize. Does that make sense? We got the highest score in both those sections, but to get "first" you have to exceed a certain threshold, which no choir exceeded. The threshold was 90, and in one of the sections we got 88.6... It's a very weird system.
Yesterday we competed in the Traditional Music/Gospel and Spiritual section, using all Maori music, including I Te Timatanga, which has a huge haka for the guys, and lots of poi work for the girls. Man, did we rock!!! We all went so hard out it was like being pummeled and spun by a huge breaking wave. I made the ugliest Pukana and had huge red marks all over my arm and chest (the latter, fortunately, was hidden by my shirt). Pukana, by the way, are crazy faces with big eyes, tucked up chin or tongue poked out. Our manager in the audience said the energy was so strong you felt as though you were being pushed back in your seat by it. Man, it was awesome! Then, that evening we had the final prize giving. We won the traditional section. We were awarded both the Judge's Choice and Audience Choice awards for that category, as well as winning Best Director/Conductor, and best Artistic something for having the best overall repertoire throughout the competition. A girl in our choir, Anna Griffiths, also won Best Original Composition for Okarito Tuhituhia October, which we sung in our contemporary section (and which helped us to win that section). In the concert we got to sing all the Maori stuff again, this time for the other choirs rather than for the judges. We blew them away. At both prize-giving/concerts we were given the honour of performing last and capping off the evening, and each time we were asked to sing almost twice as much repertoire as any other choir. Hah! So cool.
Enough of that.
I realised last night just how much of this tour is still to go. We go to Venice tomorrow for the day, which means around 10 hours of wet and wild Venetian delight. How cool is that? I'm going to Venice!!! Then, on Sunday we get to hear last year's winners of all the European Grand Prix competions compete for overall winner. Then, we leave for St Petersburg. Mmmm, Smolny Cathedral, the Hermitage...the overnight train to Moscow... I'm so excited. This tour is unbelievable!
Man, I didn't tell you about our night in Budapest! We sang in a church set on these crazy fairytale white battlements and went for a cruise on the river Danube at night, seeing all the buildings lit up. In the morning we saw Heroes Square, with statues and collonades flanked by two huge twin museums. I reccommend Budapest. Did you know it's actually two cities? Buda and Pest, set on either side of the Danube, which, by the way, is not blue but beige, and wide and fairly shallow.
Funny Stuff: A girl in our choir asked the other day on the bus, "Why is there a Danube in Vienna AND one in Budapest?" Ah, classic. Also, before competing in the ancient Basilica, we were all waiting outside silently and one of the girls had a runny nose. So, she picked an old floppy leaf of the hedge and used that to blow her nose on.
Ooh! Have I mentioned the Mr Silly Awards? Every day (pretty much) nominations are taken for people who have done something particularly silly in the last 24 hours. Then, the choir votes with applause as to who has done the silliest thing, and whoever "wins" has to wear a pair of gold reindeer antlers on a red headband and a fluffy white bowtie for the next 24 hours. There have been some really good ones. There's one guy in the choir who gets nominated almost every day for spading foreign chicks. I've only been nominated once, for accidentally speaking French to a Viennese shop keeper (they speak German) and then (by some freakish coincidence) finding that he replied so quickly in super-fluent French that I couldn't understand a word he said and just had to smile and nod and pretend I was confused by trying to count out my Euros... I didn't win.
Wow, long blog. Hope I can do this again soon!!!
Friday, July 02, 2004
Love is in the air
Man, I wish I could use exclamation marks on this keyboard. The love is not for me, I have not met a Hungarian wife. My best friend gets married todaz. (exclamation marks times a million)
To Rich an Em, I hope zou read this. Zes I cant be bothered fixing the z-y problem incurred bz this kezboard. God bless zou guzs (exclamation times twentz million). Love zou so much, and hope everzthing goes swimminglz. Wish zou were here. Actuallz, no I dont, cos Hungarz is a wee bit run down from what Ive seen so far. The showers have no heads, so its like standing under a tap, and no curtains, so the world can see zou. Thank goodness for mz super huge Kathmandu towell. Have a great daz, and know that im there in mz heart.
More later.
I visited the place where Haydn composed a lot of his works todaz. Its a mega palace.
To Rich an Em, I hope zou read this. Zes I cant be bothered fixing the z-y problem incurred bz this kezboard. God bless zou guzs (exclamation times twentz million). Love zou so much, and hope everzthing goes swimminglz. Wish zou were here. Actuallz, no I dont, cos Hungarz is a wee bit run down from what Ive seen so far. The showers have no heads, so its like standing under a tap, and no curtains, so the world can see zou. Thank goodness for mz super huge Kathmandu towell. Have a great daz, and know that im there in mz heart.
More later.
I visited the place where Haydn composed a lot of his works todaz. Its a mega palace.
