See parts I thru III if you haven't already
For this final chapter of “Fish-N-Chips-N-Beethoven” play the following video while you read. Don't bother watching it, it just a series of photos.
There may have been some in our midst who were disappointed to be staying with host families instead of being put up in hotels, but I loved it. We were staying with real people and that's how I wanted to get to know the real UK.
The four families I ended up staying with during our time in the UK covered a wide area of class and apparent wealth and age. The first in Schrewsbury were a basic middle class family. They were very friendly average folks it seemed. In Harrogate, our hosts couple—the well-to-do older couple with the horrible dog—kept us at a polite arms length. The last family my roommate and I stayed with was a single mom and her two girls near London. I'll get back to them later.
In Scotland our hosts were a different story altogether and the most memorable of all the people I encountered in the UK. It was late at night when we met our Scottish hosts due to the bus breakdown. The guy who picked us up drove a three-wheeled car. He explained that even though it was just like a car, though a bit small, it could be registered as a motorcycle at a much cheaper rate than a regular car—quite expensive in the UK apparently. We met his wife briefly when we arrived at their modest condo then it was straight to bed.
There were chocolate Easter Eggs on both our pillows.
These were good people.
In the morning I awoke to hear two small boys in another room. The older was playing school master by quizzing the younger on his colors (colours).
“...And what colour is thot?” one said in a lyrical Scottish accent.
“Bluue!” a younger voice responded enthusiastically.
“Cadect.”
“What colour is thot?”
“Gdrrreen!”
“Cadect.”
I went back to sleep, but soon I heard a closer sound, the creaking of a door. I opened my eyes to see the door to our room opening slowly. A small fuzzy head peered around the door and a smaller head appeared just below the first. I closed my eyes. I could imagine being in their shoes, waiting all day with great anticipation to meet their guests from another country only to be told it was bed time and they'd have to see them in the morning. Now it was morning and behind the door were sleeping strangers from thousands of miles away. There was whispering and shushing. I decided to have some fun.
“RRRAAAAR!” I said as I opened my eyes wide. Two little boys ran down the hall giggling and screaming.
Geoff was an Englishman who married a Scot (Anne) and had moved to Scotland—though I may well have the order of events reversed. They were very open, friendly, down to Earth and funny. Geoff and Anne carried on a continual good-natured battle of Limy versus Scot. Neil and Frazier (don't forget to roll the Rs) were their young boys, 3 and 6 years-old. I sat across the breakfast table from Neil, eating his cereal, his hair a-tossle and the tie of his school uniform askew. His mother chided his appearance but no effort by either was taken to correct and off to school he went.
We toured Edinburgh and spent time at Edinburgh Castle, the classic castle on a high rock and traveled a mile down High Street to the equally amazing Palace of Holyroodhouse. I actually got to spend some time with Kristin!
Edinburgh Castle
Holyrood Palace
The orchestra rehearsed later that day. A half dozen of us were dropped-off a half mile from where our various host homes were. We stopped at a Chinese Restaurant along the way. The guy behind the counter spoke in, despite his broken English, the most understandable voice I had heard in the UK so far.
“Hey you guys Americans, you from New York? I from New York, Chinatown.” he said. While we were waiting for our food, one of the kids, a cellist, took out some girl's violin, propped it up on a table and played it like cello. I was surprised how well this worked.
That night those of us in the same neighborhood decided to go out to a pub. We could legally drink here, how could we not? I myself was a teetotaler at the time, but I figured 'when in Rome'.
We took a bus to a pub in downtown Dunferline. I was surprised at how low key and comfortable it was. We hung our with some local guys who were perplexed when they saw us playing 'quarters' (a drinking game popular with American high school kids at the time). I don't think they were scratching their heads over our bouncing quarters off and table and (hopefully) into the mug of beer, I think they were wondering why anyone needed a game to drink.
Being unaccustomed to English beer, let alone beer at all. I was feeling no pain after a pint and a half. We were being loud Americans at the bus stop and getting some sideways looks from some older ladies. “Bluudy Americans” I said in my best Scottish accent. On the bus ride home I felt euphoric. The reality of being there, really there, and traveling as a musician. Sure it was just a high school youth orchestra, but it was a damn good one. Laura, one of the flautists, was sitting next to me. To my own surprise I put my arm around her and to additional surprise she didn't protest.
At our hosts' home the whole group came in and watched 'telly' for a while. I tried to hide my drunkenness from our host, though I didn't think it would hurt to allow myself to indulge in my alcohol-inspired charisma in a nice conversation with out hosts.
The next morning Anne gave us a 'look' when we came down for the hot breakfast she had made , her "supreme sacrifice".
“Any 'angovers this mornin?” she said.
That evening our Scottish concert the was in the modest Lochgelly center. It was smallest room we played but it was full of people, probably more than the largest room we played at Leeds Town Hall. The concert went pretty well, but our French horn player squawked that note again. It was beginning to be a thorn in everyone's side.
Soon we boarded buses and headed south for the day-long trip back to London with a stop in Yorkshire of which I can only seem to remember there being a very large wall. Jonathon, one of our violinists and a prodigy who had written several symphonies, but also a bit scatterbrained, was missing when we boarded the coaches. After about twenty minutes of Mrs. Reifler searching in a panic he was found wandering aimless about.
We met our new host at a school in Bromley, a suburb south of London, where we would be play a concert in a couple of days. She was a charismatic, maybe a bit flighty woman with eleven and fifteen year-old daughters. On this stay there were two more kids from the orchestra staying with us. They were a couple of young Asian guys who were not only astoundingly immature but embarrassingly obnoxious. They constantly giggled like school girls. I probably would have enjoyed our hosts more if it had just been David and I, Our host talked a lot and had many projects around their house in various stages of completion. She and her girls loved the US. They had Disneyland stuff around their house from a trip to California (someplace I had not yet been).
The next evening after our own rehearsal, we attended a London Philharmonic concert at Royal Festival Hall on the bank of the Thames near Waterloo Station. It was humbling to hear how good a 'real' orchestra sounded. Maybe we weren't so great after all.
We had a whirlwind bus tour of London the next day. Our volunteer guide was a older woman who donned white plastic louvered sunglasses which were sort of hip at the time. They looked a bit ridiculous on her (as they did on anyone) but she seemed to carry them off somehow. We had a chance to explore London on our own a bit. I finally had a chance to hang out with Kristin and her friend Kathleen by default. We took the 'Tube' to Piccadilly Circus and looked around a bit. It was very touristy. We got some food at a stand and when we received our food the guy said: “you're the first American's I've ever heard that said 'please' and 'thank you'. I was unsure whether to be flattered or insulted.
When we left for our bus tour we were told to bring our concert clothes as we would be going straight to our concert afterwords. I brought my suit but failed to remember my dress shoes. So I had to wear my sneakers with my suit.
It was a significant concert for two reasons. 1. It was our last concert in England. After all those concerts and rehearsals we were at the top of our game (a sports analogy seems odd but 'oh well'). 2. Were were playing at a public school (“public school” in England means 'private' in the US, as it is funded by the public not the government). The school orchestra was playing before us and we collectively felt a desire to show off a little.
Before the concert there were kids from the host school milling about as well as the throngs of Americans. The English kids seemed shy, almost frightened of us. Shelly, the trumpet player who had gotten me my audition to join the RPYO who was not at all shy and or frightened of anything, started a round of the “Star Spangled Banner” with the brass players and even a few singing along. She decided to 'smooth it over' with the Brits by playing “God Save the Queen” but they may have been even more taken aback by that.
The host orchestra, a strings-only affair, played very beautiful slow lush soft graceful sad pieces like “Adagio for Strings” by Samuel Barber (think of the end scene in “Platoon”). Each piece they played seemed to end very softly, the conductor easing them into silence with the utmost care. I remember thinking two things: that they were a very good, well rehearsed and disciplined ensemble and “wait'll they get a load of us!”
I don't know if they were impressed in the sense of admiration, but we certainly made an impression. Our pieces were, at times, loud, complex and rhythmic and usually ended with a bang. But what about “The Moldau” It was our last piece, my favorite to play; it was full of soaring scales and multiple textures and moods as the 'story' of this tone poem follows the Czech Moldau River past beautiful countryside, austere cities, a peasant wedding and violent rapids finally flowing into the sea.
We were worried. Our first chair horn player had not gotten that difficult passage correct yet. Not once in concert. We didn't hold it against her, more like we were cheering her on wanting her to succeed. But now the stakes were higher, we were playing for our peers who had just played for us. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as her infamous passage approached.
She nailed it! Perfect, confident, as the English say: “spot on.”
This created a collective rush for all of us. It was all down hill from there and we, pardon the expression, rocked it! We had never sounded better and there was no doubt by anyone in the theater that we were, for our age, quite good.
I met our host and her daughters after the concert. The eleven-year-old (in her adorable accent of course) said to me “Why are you wearing your tennis shoes.”
I didn't know the expression at the time, but if I had, being on the high of such a great performance, I might have replied: “Cuz that's how I roll baby.”
Because I happened to be 19 at the time (the drinking age in NY in 1984) several kids had asked me to bring bottles of wine, etc. they had purchased at duty free shops at Gatewick airport through US customs for them at JFK. I still had some fruit that my host 'mom' had packed me off with that I threw out because I was nervous about it being 'contraband'. My carry-on bag was heavy with he alcohol it and I was a little nervous at the prospect of having to lie and say it was my own but in the end I was waved through customs altogether simply because I was carrying my huge string bass. Can you imagine?
We boarded the big dirty Greyhound bus for the trip home and I remember having the thought “The driver's sitting on the wrong side.”
One by one the kids all got picked by their parents in front of the Eastman Theater in Rochester, New York in the wee hours after our buses had arrived. By 5AM only the director Howard Weiss and I remained. He was looking annoyed... more annoyed than usual. I tried to call my parents but my sleepy brother told me they had spent the night with friends so they get up early and pick me up.
So where were they?
When they finally showed up and Howard could go home. I said “where were you?”
It had been the daylight savings time shift that morning and they had either forgotten about it or shifted in the wrong direction.
Still, I was euphoric. It had been an amazing trip. I'm sure I didn't shut up about it the entire ride home. I knew I would be back, as a rock musician next time!
Twenty seven years later I have been to the four corners of the US in a tour bus and played to crowds large and small, but I have yet to get back to England. I never properly dated Kristin either. We kept in touch by mail via her friend Kathleen but because of her age and her strict parents that was as far as it could go. I once drove to Ithaca College where she was attending a music camp of some sort and I got to hang out with her (and Kathleen of course) for a little bit before they had to get back but we lost contact after that.
A couple of years ago on a whim I decided to see if I could find her and lo and behold she was living with her wonderful family in Southern California! As a result we often commiserate on the points of being foreigners in this strange land (Rochesterians in LA). She even played violin and viola on my album! Had I been seated somewhere else on that 747, I would not have the friend I do today and my album would not have sounded the same.
My not returning to England hasn't been as happy an ending, yet. I not only want to go back but I would like to spend more than eleven days there and so does my wife. More than a month, more than three! I'm still not sure how this will transpire or if my visit will be as a musician or something else, but somehow, some day I will get back.
Cuz that's how I roll baby!
| DOUBLE J's Double Take |
| A Music & Personal Update |
| I am writing this from my hotel room in Phoenix, Arizona (Glendale really). I have been here for a couple days (I fly home tomorrow) working on a "Summer Research Event" (as we're supposed to call it) as a camera tech. Yesterday and today I spent the entire day outdoors in hundred degree heat trying to keep video equipment in the trunks of test cars from melting holes to the center of the earth. If nothing else this has been great for weight loss. I'll be quite excited to go home and see what this two-day fat camp from hell (plus some difficult prep days earlier in the week) has done. I was pretty good and stayed away from the craft table for the most part. Other than working on the Jeopardy Watson project at IBM I have done very little physical work in the past six months so I am quite sore, sore, sore, SORE right now. Musically I have little to report. Extra prep days kept me from rehearsing at my new space during the week but I have the next four days off so I will get a couple in there. |
No comments:
Post a Comment