Sankt Maria am Leech

One day I was visiting the university music library (to which we have free access) when I espied the nave of a Gothic church down the street. Since this is Europe, it was likely to be authentic. It turns out to be THE oldest church in Graz, called Sankt Maria am Leech, and is consecrated to Saint Kunigonde. The original structure was built in 1201 but that was destroyed in 1250 by the invading Magyars (naughty Magyars!). The present church is from 1275. The stained glass windows are 13th and 14th century. I had to wait nearly a week for a sunny day to take this interior snapshot. It's a small church, almost a chapel, but enchanting in its unpretentiousness. The Baroque altar and puplit fit in harmoniously with the stark Gothic vaulting.

Graz Cathedral

The Grazer Dom is one of the few remaining buildings in the Gothic style to be found in the city. The main structure is 15th century, but there are the usual Baroque additions (main altar, chapels, organ loft and pulpit) in the interior. It's a lovely old church, but it doesn't make that strong an impression. The organ loft, however, is magnificent (see photo). The outside of the Dom is rather plain and the building is not situated in a place of prominence. It's easy to overlook, actually. Next door is an imposing Mannerist (Late Baroque) edifice, the Mausoleum of the Holy Roman Emperor (and member of the Hapsburg family) Ferdinand II. Doing a little checking on him, I read that he was fanatically Roman Catholic and instrumental in setting the Thirty Years War into motion. Thanks a lot, Ferdy; Europe really could have done without all that. He was born in Graz, hence the presence of his tomb here.

Architecture

I love being in a city with beautiful, interesting buildings. The Europeans get major points for the preservation of their architectural legacy and poor marks for most of the modern buildings I've seen. Graz is typical. It has some of the ugliest modern buildings I've ever set eyes on, with the Kunsthaus (House of Art) downtown as the prize winner. It's a hideous purple blob, completely alienated from the other buildings around it. And then near Griesplatz (where the laundromat is located), they built a high rise, where all the surrounding buildings are no more than three stories, that is monumentally ugly and is totally out of place. What were they thinking? Aside from that, Graz is exceptionally pretty. The neighborhood where the Heim is located was built up in the late 1800's and there are entire streets of neo Renaissance façades, many with Italianate wooden shutters, and stylish villas. It is a delight to walk around here. One photo is the Seebachergasse which I pass every morning on my way to my studio in the Volksschule Elizabeth; the other (with the flowers) is behind the Grazer Dom (cathedral).

Maria Trost

As I already said, there is plenty in our Grazer backyard to explore. One of the streetcar lines near the Heim runs up into the hills behind us and ends below the pilgrimage church of Maria Trost (Maria the Comforter). It is in fact a Basilica, built in the 18th century, during the lifetime of Franz Josef Haydn. I'm not a big fan of Baroque, but this church is truly magnificent as it was conceived and built in one unified style, Baroque going into Rococo. It sits on a hill, dominating the landscape at the edge of Graz. Stepping into the cool interior from the harsh sunlight was a breathtaking experience. I didn't expect anything quite so gorgeous. Particularly impressive is the ornate organ loft. There is a wide path that goes through the forest from Maria Trost and ends not far from the Heim. At first you think you are in the remotest countryside, but then you discover charming villas and homes in the hills, and have glimpses of the city below. I am liking Graz more and more.

Maria Trost interiors

A view of the main altar, the pulpit and the organ loft.

Mürzzuschlag

A view of the town from the Brahmsweg. This photo is borrowed from someone else's posting. I took a photo from the same spot, but as it was cloudy, mine didn't turn out as well. You can see why Brahms was so taken with the landscape. But if he came back now he wouldn't recognize the town. He'd no doubt be horrified at its 'modern' appearance.

Pilgrimage

This was billed as a 'free' weekend, meaning no rehearsals or concerts were scheduled. Most everybody has taken off for somewhere, Budapest and Vienna being the most popular destinations. A few brave souls have ventured as far as Venice (but you really need three days to do that). I deliberated Budapest, which I have never visited, but decided that it was too far and too much hassle for a short weekend trip. I also considered going to the Salzkammergut, one of Austria's most beautiful areas, but it's hard to get to hotels without a car. Why go off so far afield anyway? There is certainly enough to explore right in my backyard here. I opted to make a day trip to the curiously named town of Mürzzuschlag. It lies northeast of Graz, about half way to Vienna. Its main attraction is the Johannes Brahms Museum. The composer spent two summers in M-schlag and composed, among other things, his Fourth Symphony here. He loved to walk in the woods above the town and extolled the beauties of the landscape. On my way there I passed Frohnleiten, which I visited just a week ago (it seems like a month ago), changed trains in Bruck an der Mur and was in M-schlag in an hour and a half. There is a terrific special rate for weekend train travel in the Stieremark; you can travel anywhere in the province (albeit on the slower regional trains only) for the low price of 11 euros ($16). What a deal! After the charming and overly pretty-fied town of Frohnleiten, M-schlag is a shock. It's just plain ugly. It seems that every old building in the center of town has been pulled down and has been replaced with ghastly glass and metal boxes, circa 1960's. The town square is a parking lot. What a pity; the Mürzzuschlagers could have learned something from their neighbors down the road in Frohnleiten. The only thing worth looking at is the lovely Baroque church and its graceful bell tower. The Brahms Museum, privately owned and operated, is actually in the house that the master occupied during his summers in M-schlag. It has interesting and informative displays of the composer's life and his travels. The most touching object is a piano that he actually played on. Playing it was verboten, but I did put my fingers on the keys that he touched (see photo). I undertook the two and a half hour hike along the Brahmsweg, a hiking trail that supposedly follows Brahms's own wanderings in the hills. I'll second his assertion: the landscape is magnificent. Unfortunately, after a sunny beginning to the day, it clouded over (it does that a lot in the Alps). I was able to combine both Culture and Nature in one excursion. An added delight to the day was running into an older couple I know only slightly from the program, Evangeline and Beaumont Glass, in the museum. They are a friendly, cultured and elegant couple. We sat in the salon, a small concert hall of the museum, and chatted for a long while. Later we shared the train ride back to Graz. As I had an hour and a half to kill waiting for the regional train for the return journey, I was forced to visit a local café and had no choice but to devour a slice of Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte with coffee. It's a rough life here in Austria.

Activities

Another week has drawn to an end. There is so much going on in the AIMS program that it is hard to keep up with it all. There was another low-key recital on Monday in a nearby hall which I didn't feel I needed to attend. On Tuesday the entire voice/coaching faculty was invited to a rustic restaurant outside of Graz for a special feast, called here a Buschenschank. Nearly everything served is either grown or processed on the premesis -- smoked meats, cheeses, home baked bread, apple cider and apple wine and, for dessert, Apfelstrudel. The restaurant is perched on a hill overlooking a wide valley. It was somewhat cloudy and in the distance the setting sun poured through on the beautiful landscape. It looked like a Tiepolo painting. On Wednesday we had the second orchestra concert. The theme for this one was operetta and musical theater. Only the best students are selected for these, of course. There were excerpts from "Lustige Witwe", "A Little Night Music" and "Kiss Me Kate". The star of the evening was Stacey Stofferahn Uthe, the soprano from the UMKC Conservatory, who sang "Vilja's Lied" exquisitely. The rest of the singing was nothing to write home about -- so I won't. The orchestra opened the concert with the overture to "Der Zigeunerbaron" (Johann Strauss). That was a fitting, though daring choice: the Austrians know how their music should sound and everybody has heard the Vienna Philharmonic play this piece. To their credit, the AIMS Festival Orchestra gave us Strauss with flair and style. The concert ended with a spectacular performance of a suite from "Star Wars". It was a very chilly, rainy evening and there was talk of cancelling the concert. I'm so glad it took place. The venue for the concert was on top of the mountain in the city center which once was crowned by a nearly impregnable fortress. All that is left of it are the foundations (from the 13th century) and these served as the walls for the semi-open concert area. The view of Graz at night is wonderful.
Friday night I was invited, as a guest of the wife of the director of the program, to a musical theater concert presented by select AIMS students at the Palais-Hotel Erz-Herzog Johann in downtown Graz. From the name of the hotel you can tell that it is a fancy place. I don't know who Grand Duke Johann was, but the Austrians love him. Maybe he invented Apfelstrudel or something. The concert was very well done. We then tucked in to an elegant buffet and polished off a few bottles of a Steiermark Sauvignon blanc. A good time was had by all. The AIMS program is designed so that every student with a modicum of talent can find some venue in which to perform. A student who is motivated can benefit greatly from the many opportunities offered here.

Everyday stuff

Transportation. There are a lot of things to admire about life in Europe. For one, the transportation system is enviable; trams, busses and trains will get you just about everywhere. Not only is there an extensive tram/bus network in Graz, but they run frequently -- even on weekends. Everything is up-to-date with automated ticket machines and every stop has a digital sign that tells you how many minutes you have to wait until the next tram or bus. Most of us here have purchased a monthly pass ($60) which enables us to ride anywhere, anytime.

Laundry. Just don't get me started! This is one aspect of living here that makes us want to bang our heads against a wall in frustration. There is a laundry room in the Heim, but using the washers and dryers is bizarrely complicated. I can't even begin to describe the process; you need an advanced degree in mechanical engineering to do your laundry there. The concept of 'coin-operated' seems to be unheard of in Austria. Besides the matter of operating the machines (and all I want to do is wash my clothes, not find a cure for cancer!), the washing room in the Heim is booked solid for weeks in advance. The other day I schlepped over to the one and only automat in town, entailing a tram and a bus ride, with my laundry. The place was nice, it was clean, but it was also expensive. Washing and drying two loads cost me over $15, about three times the cost in the States. Maybe I should go the way of some Europeans and simply not wash my clothes or myself at all (and what's up with that?), or I could find a nice spot on the edge of the Mur river and bang my clothes on the rocks.

Food. Here I can go into ecstacies. Austrian cuisine is wonderful. One can eat so well in this town, and usually for a reasonable cost. Every restaurant I have been to so far has offered dishes for vegetarian guests. Some delicious specialties are: Schwammerlrisotto (delicate local mushrooms baked with cheese and rice); Semmelknödel mit Champignon Rahmsauce (Bread dumplings with a mushroom cream sauce); Gemüselaibchen (vegetable cutlets); Spätzle mit Käse (a kind of small pasta variety with grated cheese). You can wash it all down with the wonderful local wines and beers. And for dessert there are the famous Austrian Torten and ice cream creations. Konditerein (café/bakeries) are numerous. The down side is that this luscious cuisine is heavy with cream and cheese. If I'm not careful I may have to reserve two seats for my flight home. I try to walk as much as I can, and occasionally leave out a meal. But going out to eat is so pleasant; usually there are sidewalk tables, or there is a nice quiet garden in the back, and there are interesting colleagues to hang out with. And then there's that great beer. Every restaurant is family owned and is unique -- no franchises like Olive Garden, Applebees, etc. that serve mediocre, boring food and have the ambience of a cardboard box.

Frohnleiten

Today I was a bad dog. The faculty was invited to hear and judge the contestants in the "Meistersinger" competition this weekend. Being selected for this is a high honor in the AIMS universe, it seems. Unfortunately, the process -- preliminaries, semi-finals and final round -- would take up many hours of both Saturday and Sunday. I had a long week of teaching and, to be frank, the last thing I wanted to hear was more singing. The forecast for today, Saturday, was for warm and sunny weather. After a week of rain I just couldn't resist an outing and skipped out on the competition. There are, after all, about 30 other people who will be listening to this.
Where to go? All of the Steiermark and beyond awaited me. I opted for a short trip to the town of Frohnleiten. It's an old town of medieval origins that had strategic importance guarding the only bridge north of Graz over the river Mur, the same river that flows through Graz. I made my way to the Hauptbanhof (main railway station) and took the half-hour train trip north. The Graz railway station is an ugly modern affair, not one of those grand old stations one finds in some other cities. When the bombs fell in WW II the train networks were prime targets, of course. There are mountains around Graz, but not high ones. Just north and west of the city they get bigger. Frohnleiten is a delightful, picturesque little burg nestled in the mountains, perched on a rise above the river. It consists mainly of a large main square adorned with lovely old buildings, some from the 16th century. The modern city fathers went a little too far in their modernizing of the square, in my opinion; it looks like a cross between a mall and a play area, something like Disneyland on the Mur. But it is still very pretty. It doesn't take long to see the town and the one Baroque church. There was a tourist info place and the nice young man there suggested some easier hikes in the area. I headed north to the next village of Rothleiten, then turned into a lovely side valley towards Gamsgraben (the map he gave me was very helpful). The first few kilometers paralleled the autobahn. Despite the impressive scenery, the rush of auto traffic was a downer. But once in the side valley it became truly pastoral. I could see where new houses were being built in the villages -- weekend homes? people commuting to Graz? Living in a side valley whose road is a dead end, with mountains and forests on all sides and a cheerful brook running through the middle of it would be a fine location for a house. Sign me up.

Rothleiten

A view of the neighboring village of Rothleiten nestled in the mountains, in the Gamsbach valley. It clouded over a bit, so the pic is a little dark. The fields were unmown and covered in wild flowers. It was a lovely place to take a country walk.

Local charm

An old house in the main square, covered with ivy and bedecked with flowers.

Frohnleiten

A view of the town perched on a hill above the river, taken from the bridge over the River Mur. The previous historic wooden bridge was taken out by flooding in 1938. It was reconstructed in concrete after that, but in a style fitting to the historic setting.

Der Hauptplatz, Frohnleiten

A view of the main square from the steps of the church, Our Lady of Baroque Overkill. The town has won awards for its displays of flowers in the town. I believe it -- its gorgeous!

Decor by Tammy Faye

This is an interior shot of the church in Frohnleiten. I would describe the style as 'Tammy Faye Baker Baroque'. Could they have crammed any more decoration into this place? It's stuffed to the rafters with frescos, statuary, gold doodads, etc. My reaction as I walked in the door was: Egads!! But for those who like Austrian Baroque, this is the real deal.

Der Stephaniensaal

Yesterday I had a break in my mid-afternoon teching schedule and went down to the shady school playground (this is an elementary school, remember). I planned to do a little reading, but after a while an orchestra rehearsal commenced in what is ordinarily the gymnasium of the school, a room accessible from the schoolyard. Doors and windows were open. The glorious sounds of Beethoven's "Egmont Overture" overwhelmed me; there was no way I could read with such (live!) music pouring into my ears. Entering the rehearsal space I could feel the floor vibrating -- talk about total immersion! Beethoven often sends me into a state of immediate ecstasy; his music possesses a primal power like no other; the human spirit strives for and dwells in an exalted realm in his music. I looked forward with great anticipation to tonight's program.
The first orchestra concert of the season took place downtown in the Stephaniensaal, a concert hall built on the model of the Vienna Musikvereinsaal. It's one of those lavishly ornate, beautiful old European halls. Alas, the best laid plans went awry. I left in plenty of time for the concert, planning to have a light supper downtown, but I ran into colleagues and we were delayed. They wanted to go to a restaurant and suggested a charming little Italian place (run by real Italians!) near the hall. Who can say no to the company of two lovely women and the prospect of great Italian food? Not even I. The upshot was that we arrived at the hall just as the doors were closing for the beginning of the concert, so I heard the "Egmont" through closed doors. It's a good thing I heard that rehearsal or I would have been really disappointed! The rest of the program consisted of excerpts from "Fidelio" and, after intermission, five songs of Joseph Marx and Strauss' "Don Juan". Marx is a native of this area. I know his music only slightly. The songs are written in a lush, late Romantic and quasi Impressionistic style. They are over-orchestrated but very colorful. The vocalists chosen for the evening were of varying degrees of accomplishment. The Strauss is, of course, one of the most formidable tests of orchestral playing. The AIMS ensemble rose to the occasion, playing with finesse and suppleness. It was a superlative performance. Their level of playing astonishes me. It is no wonder that some orchestra members have returned for twenty years in a row to play with this ensemble. I think I would come back here in the future just to hear them!

Another openin', another show

On Monday evening, the first day of lessons and classes, there was a recital showcasing the AIMS faculty. It was supposed to take place in a nearby hall but since it was raining non-stop it was decided that the concert would be moved to the large hall of the Heim. I got to hear my colleagues and enjoy their considerable talents. The program covered the gamut from opera to operetta, cabaret, art songs, piano solos, and music parody (an amusing rendition of Rossini's "Barber of Seville" overture for piano, 6 hands). My own contribution was a performance of a song I had written for basso Gustavo Halley, entitled "Sokrates und Alcibiades" (text of Hölderlin). It is one of five songs I wrote for Gustavo some 15 years ago. He performed them in Kansas City at that time, but not since. So, we dusted off this one song for this concert. It was billed as an "Österreichische Erstaufführing" (Austrian first performance). It sounds more impressive in German than it really is. It was very well received. A few days ago I had an e-mail from another colleague from the Conservatory who is teaching at a summer program in Orvieto, Italy. He informed me that a student of his who is in the program there (a bass I worked with last semester) performed some of the five songs on a concert at the Opera House in Orvieto. When it rains, it pours, apparently. Two European performances of my music in one week -- I don't know if I can handle that! Anyway, the AIMS faculty concert was really very fine. There is an impressive assemblage of talent here.

The Austrians are famously polite, and I can attest to that. The other day I went to a Friseur to have a simple haircut. It was a local place, in the Leonhardstrasse, nothing fancy. The woman who cut my hair was charmingly attentive and solicitous, explaining to me what she was doing at every turn, making every effort to please. She made me look ten years younger. I think I'd like to take her back to the States with me as my personal friseur.

Festive Opening

Now that we have the long process of hearings behind us and have somehow managed to schedule everyone in their classes, lessons and coachings, the AIMS program is up and running. The opening ceremony took place Sunday afternoon in the Aula (grand hall) of the Karl-Franzens-University. The Festival Orchestra played a few selections and there were speeches from representatives of the mayor's office, the Governor of Styria, and the director of the program, Dr. Tom King. The university was built in 1895, in the heyday of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy, when little Austria ruled much of Europe. There are many surviving government buildings from the period all over Austria (and the former empire), all done in the handsome classical style. The orchestra players come from professional ensembles in the US and Europe. It is extremely competitive to land a chair, I'm told. Most are young, college age, so it is a very pleasant surprise to hear an orchestra of such professional quality. They began with John Adam's energetic "A short ride in a fast machine". After a few (blessedly short) speeches we heard the "Tannhaeuser Overture". That was wonderfully played -- it just blew me away. After a few more remarks an assembled choir sang "America the Beautiful", an Austrian folk song, "Hoch vom Dachstein an", which was lovely, then the national anthems of the USA and Austria (which I have never heard: "Land der Berge, Land am Stome" -- who knew?). Finally, the orchestra ended the program with a spirited and polished rendition of Dvorak's Slavonic Dance in g minor. I am thrilled to be here and be a part of this!

But the best was yet to come. In the early evening we were bussed over to the other side of town, to Schloss Eggenberg, for the formal reception. This was billed as a high drag event, so everyone was dressed in their best. The Eggenberg Palace was built in the 17th century by the Eggenberg family which, just after it was all completed (it took three generations), promptly died out. And more's the pity as the world was deprived of the possibility of, somewhere down the line, an Eggbert von Eggenberg. The palace is sumptuous Baroque to the rafters and is surrounded by a gorgeous park with magnificent old trees. We assembled in the Planetensaal (which was stifling -- all the windows were closed because of real candles burning in the chandeliers; if you want ambience, you have to suffer for it). This magnificent room is the crown jewel of the palace. We endured a few (again, mercifully short) welcoming speeches and were also treated to a performance of the first movement of Beethoven's Septet, superbly played by select members of the orchestra. There was an elegant buffet and drinks after that. It was a lovely evening. I intend to return to chez Eggenberg someday to visit the museum and explore the extensive grounds. A pride of peacocks struts about the place, the males displaying their finery to anyone who shows even the slightest interest. What odd, but gorgeous, creatures they are.

The photos show part of the facade of the Schloss at dusk; the inner courtyard where we were serenaded by a brass ensemble playing appropriate Renaissance and Baroque selections; and a surreptitious pic of the septet in flagrante delicto. (Gustavo Halley is seated to the right). [N.B. remember that clicking on any pic will enlarge it.]

Saint Lenny

This is the view from my window of the Heim, the steeple of the Baroque church of Sankt Leonhard. In the previous few years I had a view of the Green Mountains of Vermont from my summer abode. I think this is a fair exchange. I made a brief visit to this church the other day. The facade is unmistakenly Baroque, the back part of the nave is Gothic and the front part is modern. Somehow it all works. In the 17th century it was very common for Gothic churches to be re-done in the newer Baroque style by adding ornate altars and faux columns (Baroque is very big on faux). The modern section would surely be a result of damage from WW II. A bomb fell on the church and destroyed part of it. It was an all too common occurrence.
I discovered the Botanical Garden not too far away. I look forward to exploring the hothouses and the gardens. The neighborhood behind our street is lovely. Unfortunately, the Elizabethstrasse, on which the Heim is located, is a very busy four-lane thoroughfare. Vehicles come racing down the street continuously. You take your life in your hands to get across it.

For the past few days we have been hearing all the vocalists (130 of them) and about a dozen pianists. There are 34 singers in the Concert Studio so, gratefully, I didn't have to listen to all the auditions. Everyone sang two pieces of their own choosing. I was pleasantly surprised at the level of singing; many of the participants are younger, but nearly everyone offers something to work with. The staff are very supportive. When one soprano sang "Vilia's Lied" the entire voice faculty spontaneously joined in during the chorus bit at the end of each verse. Occasionally, when someone is exceptional, there will be spontaneous applause from the 25 to 30 people who are listening. There are three coaches for the Concert Studio and we each have a themed recital repertory list. My colleagues here are friendly and gracious. We were easily able to agree on dividing the students so that each of us has at least one mezzo and one male singer. (From that you may gather that there is a preponderance of sopranos -- and you would be right!) I revised my (rather comprehensive) repertoire list to meet the reality of what I have to work with. I discover that I can still put an interesting program together. The 11 vocalists and 3 pianists I get to work with this summer will present a full-length Liederabend just before the end of the program in August.
The building where we will be teaching is just down the street, in a Volksschule (elementary school). It's an old building with huge rooms and 15 foot high ceilings. Brand new pianos have been moved into the rooms. I have a lovely grand in mine. With the high ceilings and absence of any kind of acoustical material, the sound is quite live. The most modest soubrette, Petunia von Pippskveek, will sound like Birgit Nielson singing in these rooms. I continue to acquaint myself with the large staff, meeting some new people every morning at breakfast: coaches, conductors, voice teachers, language teachers, etc. We're a diverse and interesting group, I will say.

And finally...

These are the last three photos: the view of Lausanne, dominated by the Gothic Cathedral (consecrated 1275), was taken at dusk; another view of the Villa Diodati looking towards Lac Léman; the last is self explanatory -- just to prove that I REALLY was there and wasn't shooting photos of some random villa!

Brixen

Bit by bit I am adding most of the pics I took on my road trip. It seems like ancient history, but just a week ago I was still in Lausanne. These four pics are from the delightful town on Brixen (Bressanone in Italian) in the South Tyrol, or what the Italians call the Alto Adige. I visited this town by accident as I missed a turn on a roundabout, ended up going down a one way street which brought me to a parking space in front of the bridge into the old part of town. That was serendipity! You can see one of two churches in the main square (the place is VERY Catholic), the square itself and the inside of the baroque cathedral. The Pope is scheduled to make a short holiday in this town soon. There were banners in welcome all over the place. I am amazed that these pictures came out so well. That *&^%$# camera may be complicated to operate, but it does take photos of remarkable quality -- even though I barely know how to operate it! [BTW, click on any image to enlarge it.]

Getting Started

Now that my travels are over for a while, my entries will become less frequent. But I intend to give updates on my life and activities here in the city of Graz now and then.
There are three students here from the UMKC Conservatory, one of them an older, experienced soprano with whom I have worked in the past. She arrived yesterday and I took her to dinner at the local cafe so that she wouldn't have to deal with too much new stuff (language, funny money, etc.) She's in the opera program, so I won't be seeing all that much of her. There is also one student who was at the Seagle Colony for two summers. She is one of the sweetest young people I know. I'm glad she's here. My closest connection here, Sarah and Gustavo Halley, have been raving about Graz for years. They think it is the most wonderful place in the world. Granted, the inner city, one of the biggest in Europe, has been declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO, but it hasn't made that much of an impression on me yet. It is slowly growing on me as I get to explore more. Just behind the Elizabeth Strasse, where the Studentenheim is located, there is a beautiful neighborhood of old villas. At the turn of the last century this area was at the edge of the city and the elite of Graz built their homes here. Some are in Italian Renaissance style, some in Jugendstil which, in the decades before WW I, was very big in Vienna. Each villa is surrounded by spacious grounds and gardens. It is a lovely place to take an evening walk as it is quiet and there is little traffic. From a vantage point at the end of this street one can see nearby green hills and fields. Is this the city or the country? Yesterday I took a long walk in the Altstadt and passed the Opera House. If you have read some of my earlier blog entries, you might remember the photo of R. Strauss, G. Mahler and G. Puccini at the side door of the Opera House after the Graz premiere of "Salome". Yesterday I stood on that very spot and wondered what other important figures from the music world had passed over it. On another walk I passed an old house with a plaque announcing that the famous conductor Karl Böhm had first seen the light of day there. The most famous favorite son of Graz these days is Arnold Schwarzenegger, and I hear the Grazers are very proud of him. Local boy does good and becomes Governor of California -- not bad.
Today we had an introductory meeting of the vocal staff and students. There are 130 vocalists (and there is an orchstra here as well). There must be 50-60 faculty/staff, including voice teachers, opera coaches, Lieder coaches, diction coaches (including Russian, French and Italian), stage directors, German language teachers, opera accompanists and Lieder accompanists. It is quite an impressive group (so, what am I doing here?). Compared to the small and personal experience I have had for the past 12 summers, this is a little overwhelming. I don't do well in large groups. Tomorrow we start hearings of all the vocalists for placement in the programs and assignments to upcoming concerts. Of course, 75% of the singers are sopranos. I'm curious to hear what the level of singing is here. Most of the stronger voices will no doubt be in the opera area.

And yet more...

The mountain view is in the Dolomites, looking from the Hotel Rosengarten in Toblach, South Tyrol (the first overnight on my road trip); the charming old building is one of the many picturesque corners in Estavayer-le-lac, Switzerland; finally, there is a photo of a plaque on the wall of a building next to the Villa Diodati. It reads, in translation: Lord Byron/English poet/author of "The Prisoner of Chillon"/lived in the Villa Diodati in 1816 and wrote the Third Canto of "Childe Harold" here.

More Pics

Two photos from Estavayer-le-lac: the lovely old church (note cute kids playing on the steps) and a view of the castle; the top pic is the Hauptstrasse (Mainstreet) in Murten on a bright, sunny day.

Pics

I purchased what I thought was a simple, easy-to-use digital camera. There is no such thing. To operate even the the most modest camera you need to take a graduate level course at MIT, it seems. Anyway, after some camera trauma, I did manage to save and download a few pics. The bottom pic is the Furka Pass, looking towards Andermatt, just before the last steep ascent to the top of the pass; the top left is in the Ticino (Italian Switzerland), the sun just rising over the village of Olivone; the top right is the Villa Diodati in Cologny, just outside of Geneva.

Graz

I took my leave from the lovely Landhaus and tootled down the road to Graz, which is to be my home for the next five weeks. I have never been in the city before, so it was all new to me. The participants, staff and students, of the AIMS program are housed in a very large Studentenheim (student dormitory) which in the winter caters to foreign students at the local university. It's in a nice neighborhood, not too far from the center of the city. I have a single room. It's small, but that's fine with me. The place is in need of a good overhaul, but it will do for the duration of the program. After getting settled and having my internet connection established (there are two computer geeks on call today and tomorrow), I took the car to the rental place to return it. The Skoda had served me well. It has gotten rather warm again. I walked into the center from the rental place. Maybe I was in the worst part of town, but it did not make the best impression. Things are shabby and there is litter about. Dorothy, we ain't in Switzerland anymore. The old city center has some beautiful old buildings, but like nearly every other city center in Europe, it's been turned into a huge shopping mall.
For the past few days the Austrian press has been full of news on the culmination of a huge financial scandal. I saw a program, something along the lines of 'Frontline', on the history of the whole thing (my room in Mils had a tiny TV which received all of two stations). Although I couldn't begin to understand the ins and outs of European high finance, it was a story strikingly similar to the Enron scandal a few years ago in the States: the fat cats at the head of some banking/investment concern fudged the books, lied to their investors and filled their own pockets. Sentencing took place a few days ago. The equivalent of Kenneth Lay was arrested at his villa on the Riviera and spirited back to Vienna. He faces ten years in prison. Just like Lay, he insists that he is innocent and has been made a fall guy. These people are amazing, they just never 'get it': It's always somebody else's fault.
I went out in the evening in search of a place to eat. Just down the street is a modest eatery, Muckenauer Imbiss, with tables outside as well. It was filled with AIMS people. (Why is it one can always spot the Americans?) I ended up sharing a table with a young guy, Yuri, originally from Belarus, who is the concert master of the orchestra here and serves that function with the Charleston S.C. Symphony in the States. A few of his friends, also orchestral musicians (two cellists and a flutist), joined us later. They were all very interesting and it was nice to be hanging out with musicians again. Just like with vocalists, the conversation revolved around gossip of the business, who is doing what, who got what position, etc. Everybody knows everybody. It's a small world.

The Steiermark

I set off on a bright, sunny morning. I had my route all planned. There is no direct route from here to Graz. I started off on the autobahn in the direction of Innsbruck, got off a bit too early and got stuck in a small town, unable to find the road I wanted. It was Saturday morning and everyone was out shopping. The roads were clogged in Wörgl and it took me 45 minutes to get out of it. Europeans are wealthy, they all have cars, and they all want to go somewhere. The official travel season hasn't even begun yet. When the schools let out the roads will be even more congested. At times the traffic is really thick. Later on, in Kitzbühel, it was bumper to bumper through the whole bloody burg. I went over another pass, this one only half as high as Furka (again, thank god for that!) and bypassed the Grossglockner, the highest mountain in Austria. Gawd, these mountains are big. The OMG mantra continued for much of the day. This poor Skoda is really getting a workout. Eventually I crossed into the province of Salzburgerland, and then into the Steiermark (Styria in English), of which Graz is the capital. The landscape became less dramatic, the mountains not as imposing, the valleys wider. It reminded me of being in the Rockies, then the Catskills. The scenery was delightful. I didn't want to end up in Graz, so I got off the main road onto a really small country road. I had no idea where I was headed; I just wanted to find some bucolic country inn. And find one I did. I couldn't have found a more inviting place to stay. It was as if I were led to this place. There was a sign that read 'Kulturpension'. What in the world would that be, I wondered. It is an old farm house, recently remodeled and converted into an inn and art gallery by an enterprising local couple. The grounds are simple and lovely, with many fine old trees and open fields. It's hard to believe that we are only 30 kilometers (about 20 miles) outside of Graz. The couple who run the place are very friendly and hospitable. The place is officially called: Landhaus Feuerlöscher bei Deutschfeistritz. Isn't that a mouthful?
I bow to the Mother of the World, to Lord Manjushri and to Lord Shakyamuni Buddha for watching over me. I feel that I have been taken care of at every turn on this trip. Tomorrow I drive into Graz, return ye olde Skoda and begin the adventure of teaching at AIMS. I have already been purusing the brochures of the Steiermark, considering the weekend excursions I want to make...

In the Tyrol, again

The rain had stopped during the night, but it was still cloudy. It was supposed to gradually clear up during the day. I thought a trip into Innsbruck might be worthwhile, so I headed down the road. But a funny thing happened on the way to Innsbruck...I didn't go there. Why traipse around a large city, I thought, even if it is in the Alps? I'm in the Alps now. At the town of Zirl I turned north. These names of towns in the Tyrol are so interesting. They don't even sound German. I suspect that they derive form Celtic names that were then appropriated by the Germanic tribes that settled here after the demise of the Roman Empire. Some other examples, besides the charming 'Zirl', are: Imst, Stanz, Telfs, Prutz, Dalaas, Axams, Vols, Fulpmes, the sloppy sounding Bschlabs, the always merry Grins, and the very delicate Egg. My favorite name for a town was in Graubünden: Bitsch, with Cunter a close second. I'm not making this up.
It was a short, but steep ride to the German border and into the town of Mittenwald. It is famous for its violin makers, for its alpine setting and its charming Bavarian painted houses. Still, it is a tourist trap; already by 10 AM it was overrun with (European) tourists. The real gem of the place was the church of Sts. Peter and Paul (Nu? Vone goi vasn't enough? Ya needed two?), a splendid example of late Bavarian Baroque. It was consecrated in 1749. Simple on the exterior, the inside is a riot of decoration, gold, marble, statuary and frescoes.
Further down the road was the town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, renowned for having hosted the Winter Olympics (quite a while ago, I'm not sure when) and for being the home of the composer Richard Strauss. I made some attempt to find the Strauss Villa, but didn't succeed. No matter, I have seen it before, some 40 years ago. Garmisch is much bigger than Mittenwald and, to my mind, prettier. The clouds still hadn't lifted but I continued on anyway and re-entered Austria into the town of Ehrwald. This burg is on the other side of the Zugspitze, Germany's highest peak. The pinnacle of the Zugspitze was shrouded in clouds, but it was still an impressive sight. It occured to me that today is the Fourth of July. No flags and fireworks here.
When I got back to my inn (which is a restaurant/tavern/hotel) Frau Frischmann, the owner, told me that there would be a 'Blaskonzert' (wind-band concert) in the village this evening. I didn't know what to expect. The players are drawn from communities in the area. Some were youngsters, some were older. They all wore a uniform, a traditional Tyrolean Tracht: black pants, dark red vest, dark green woolen jacket, topped off by a pointed black hat with some brush-like thing on it. It was quite fetching. They lined up further down the street (in front of Gasthof Frischmann, actually) and marched in formation, playing some Tyrolean march, to the modest band shell. The procession was led by the band leader with a large baton and two lovely damsels in their pretty Tyrolean dirndls. The band was terrific. This was the real thing, local people celebrating their cultural identity, a simple event unsoiled by any kind of commercialism or mass appeal. I felt fortunate to witness it. I also thought of Gustav Mahler hearing something just like this in his village, and the effect it had on his creativity. His symphonies are full of folk tunes and the glimmer of marching bands. There were tables set up, the locals having a great time, devouring fried chicken and downing untold quantities of beer. I sat on a bench on the side for a while, not wanting to intrude in this local event. One of the regulars from the tavern where I'm staying, whom I have greeeted coming and going, approached me. He was very polite and told me he thought I must be a refined and highly educated person (okay, thanks for the compliment) and invited me to join him for a beer at his table. It had gotten really chilly and I was about to leave. Besides, I had had my quota of beer with dinner, so I declined. The beer drinking ritual can go on for hours. We chatted for a while and, without asking, he bought me a Schnapps. It was a fruit liquor, something like Calvados. He told me that the castle which is visible on a high hill down the valley was built in the 14th century. This valley is the only direct route going east/west through the Alps. It must have seen a lot of traffic, wars and plundering in the Middle Ages. This is really a lovely village. I was very fortunate to end up here.

Mils

I have been extraordinarily lucky with the weather. My five days in Switzerland were sunny and warm. In the night a front came through and it rained intermittently most of the day today. I took the autoroute north towards Bern, then turned east, by-passing Interlaken and Luzern. The rain stopped and the clouds lifted around that stretch, and a good thing it did because it's a fabulously beautiful region. If it is pouring rain you may as well be driving from Hoboken to Hackensack, since you see virtually nothing. There are no freeways bigger than two lanes in each direction, and there is never a median. Space is at a minimum here. Sometimes the autobahn turns into a normal road for a stretch as there is no way to by-pass some towns in the narrow valleys. I couldn't begin to count how many tunnels I went through today. With some difficulty I did find the last stretch of road I wanted, from the town of Sargans to the border. This is not far north from where I entered Graubünden on Saturday. I'm glad I took the scenic route then, even though it was much longer. At Sargans the road turns north, skirting the principality of Liechtenstein. Crossing into Austria at Feldkirch, you have to traverse a bit of that tiny country. It is technically independent, but Switzerland administers its services. I'll bet I'm the only guy on the block who can boast having filled his tank in Liechtenstein. That's probably the most exciting thing you can do there anyway.
Actually, after I saw a turn for the Gotthard Tunnel I pulled off the road to have another look at the map and re-consider my destination. With a car at my disposal and Italy not too far away, why not drive south? I considered it: I could be in Milano in a few hours; the sun was surely shining there; I had never visited Verona, etc. But I realized that I would have to drive very far to traverse Italy west to east in order to reach Graz by Sunday morning (when I have to return the car), and that it would take me three days of relentless driving. So, I passed on the idea. A short time later I heard a traffic update on the radio that reported a major accident in the Gotthard Tunnel, blocking both directions, that there was a back-up for many kilometers. Lucky I didn't go there, I thought.
Austria is more relaxed and laid-back than its neighbor to the west. In comparison, it looks a little shabby and neglected. I have even seen the blight of billboards on the outskirts of towns here, something you just wouldn't find in Switzerland. There is an autobahn that heads east through the valley of the Inn towards Innsbruck and beyond. I got off of it after a while and drove on the parallel local road in order to find a place to stay. And I did, in the tiny village of Mils, about 30 miles west of Innsbruck. This country inn is so reasonable I think I'll stay here two nights. If it's rainy tomorrow I can visit Innsbruck; if it's nice -- another hike! From my window I can see the back end of the village, the pretty village church with its tall Tyrolean bell tower, and then a hugh mountain going straight up with a dramatic ravine in it. Now, at dusk, it looks a little scary.
The dialect spoken here is softer than the rather gutteral Swiss German, but it's related to it and to Bavarian. This is a narrow part of Austria and both Germany and Italy are quite close, except that you have to drive over or through mountains to get there.
Cindy's Diner. That's the last thing I expected to find at a rest stop off the autoroute in western Switzerland; an American-style burger joint doesn't usually send me into ecstasies in anticipation of a good meal. But, being quite hungry, I stepped through the door of the place to see what was up. It was a re-creation of a 1950's American diner, replete with formica tables and vinyl chairs, a black and white tile floor, and lots of chrome. The photo of Elvis on the wall was the coup de grâce to the atmosphere. Their menu claimed to serve the best burgers in Switzerland. It also included a 'vegi' burger (which they pronounced 'veggi' for some odd reason). I don't know what the burger was made of, but it was tasty (though small), and it was smothered in grilled (not steamed) vegies, and had a delicious sauce. It was really good (though I've had better burgers stateside). The bun was fresh multi-grain. The lettuce was not of the iceberg variety. Europeans will not eat junk -- why do we? But, that burger (no fries), a glass of mineral water and a cup of coffee set me back SF 29, or $25. Gulp.

Hiking in Heaven

[I haven't been able to download anything for a few days since I've been on the road. This is where I left off after the previous blog. I was hoping to put up my own digital photos, but that's another story...]

The fine summer weather promises to hold, although heavy thunderstorms are predicted for the alpine region for tonight. This is the day to do a hike in the mountains. I headed west along the lake, passing through Vevey, Clarens (where Stravinsky stayed for a while and wrote "Sacre du Printemps" and where Vladimir Nabakov is buried) and the jazz festival town of Montreux. Leaving the lake behind me I turned left into a major side valley, passing Aigle with its fairy-tale castle surrounded by vineyards, and began a steady climb. I bypassed the turn-off to Leysin, the enchanting mountain town where I spent three glorious summers some 20 years ago. One of the most spectacular views in all the world is of this long valley with the majestic, snow-covered Dents du Midi towering over the far end. You get a great view of it from Leysin. I continued on over the Col des Mosses (a high pass, but nothing like the Furka, thank god), to Chateau d'Oex (pronounced "day") and into the next valley. My goal was the town of Saanen which neighbors the fabled ski resort of Gstaad. In the winter this whole region is hopping with skiers. Now the primary attraction is hiking. I opted to hike from Saanen back the way I had just come to the town of Rougement. The language and the cantonal border is between these two towns, the former in German-speaking Bern and the latter in the French-speaking Vaud. The guide book I consulted rated my chosen hike as a moderate one. Ha!! What were they smoking, I wonder. It was pretty hard and it wiped me out. But, it was glorious. I lingered for a while in an alpine meadow, breathing in the sweet, pure air, enchanted by the twitter of birds in the tall fir trees, delighting in the fields filled with wild flowers and the granite peaks. It was, in short, heaven. This is why we go hiking in the mountains: to commune with the purity and grandeur of nature. This is why people like myself come to Switzerland -- because that experience is going to be the best here. I couldn't imagine a more beautiful place. By the time I got to Rougement I was pretty tired. It had also heated up quite a bit and I had gotten too much sun. Rougement is another of those impossibly quaint and lovely old towns. Nearly every builiding is an old, elaborately carved chalet. I had lunch in the Café du Cerf (the Stag Cafe). The service and the cuisine were impeccable. I opted to take the train back (all of one stop), and didn't mind waiting for a while at the Rougement station, drinking in the superb view of the high peaks carressed by a few wispy clouds.
Driving in Europe takes a little getting used to. European drivers are, for the most part, very skillful, but they execute maneuvres like passing and entering traffic more quickly and in a smaller area. They assume that you know the rules of the road and will react appropriately. One really has to pay attention all the time. The signs do not often provide a route number, so you really have to know the names of the upcoming towns for the direction you want. I have missed a few turn-offs that way. So far I have done very well (if I may compliment myself). The roads are in excellent repair; some seem to have been paved yesterday. There is no litter anywhere. Switzerland is immaculate. There are, however, strict regulations and heavy fines for non-compliance regarding just about every aspect of life in Switzerland. You can't mow the lawn on Sunday, you can't flush the toilet between certain hours of the night, you can't run a vacuum cleaner in the afternoon, you can't put the trash out too early, etc., etc. It is a highly regulated society. This is the downside to living in a country this well-ordered. To me it is like a prison, albeit a beautiful one. There is no elbow room, no breathing space. Everyone marches to the same beat. It would make me crazy to live here. We may be a little unkempt around the edges in the US, but I don't feel like I have Big Brother breathing down my neck every minute, watching my every move. (Though nowadays they may be listening to my every telephone call....)
Tomorrow I'm leaving Lausanne and headed for Austria. I will be relieved of another 20 francs from Le Parking Montbenon one last time and be on my way. I'm taking the autoroute north; it's much quicker and I'm a bit tired of mountain driving. I wonder where I will be tomorrow night...

Murten/Morat

Today, Tuesday, we woke up to cloudless skies with a forecast for 30 C. (about 85 F.), the promise of the perfect summer day. I planned an excursion to the town of Murten (French: Morat), northwest of Lausanne. It lies in the mostly French-speaking canton of Fribourg, but this one town is German-speaking. It is one of those anomalies that make Switzerland so unique. As I remember the story, it had something to do with the outcome of some local war and the township being awarded to (German-speaking) Bern (which is not that far away). This country is such a unique confederation of three distinct cultures and languages, each jealously guarding its rights. The German-speaking area compromises about two thirds of the population and is predominantly Roman Catholic, the French area (the Romande) is slightly less than a third and is predominanly Calvinist, and the Italians have one canton. Somehow they make it work and it is admirable. Language is such an essential element in self and cultural identification that people tenaciously cling to it. The fourth official language of the land is Rhaetio-Romansch, a derivative of Latin. It is spoken by only a small minority in the province of Graubünden but it is kept alive with goverment support as something uniquely Swiss. I heard it spoken on the local radio the other day. It sounds like someone speaking Latin who has just taken a major hit from a well-stoked bong. I've been listening to local radio the whole time. The Swiss dialects take some getting used to; I have to listen really carefully to get the gist of the French. There is some Italian as well. Being thrown into this lingo goulash makes my brain hurt. The Swiss are famously adept linguists. It is not uncommon for someone to speak four or five languages: Hochdeutsch, their local dialect (which can be like another language altogether), French, Italian, and English.
Anyway, on the way to Murten. I had been there before, some twenty years ago, and remembered it as a particularly charming place. I took a secondary road north (more interesting than the autoroute) and after about 45 minutes saw a turn-off for the town of Estavayer-le-lac, on the west shore of Lac Neuchâtel, which announced itself as a walled medieval town. I could see the towers of the castle from a distance. Well, I'm a sucker for a walled town, so I turned down the road to check it out. Isn't it great to have a car and explore as the spirit moves you? It wasn't very big, but was a gem of a place, so charming and lovely I wanted to wrap it up and take it home. Flowers bloomed everywhere, adding a riot of color to every corner. The Swiss do love their flowers. I made it to Murten about half an hour later. It still has its medieval walls, and its own lake as well, the Murtensee (see photo). The one main street has arcades on either side, just as you see in Bern. Most of the fine patrician houses were built in the 17th and 18th centuries. It was gloriously beautiful, a dream of a town. In the distance, to the west, there were mushrooming thunderheads over Le Jura, the mountain range that forms the border with France.
It was about midday and I had thoughts of lunch. I have always loved Swiss cuisine as it is a blend of French and German elements, avoiding the fussiness of the former and the heaviness of the later. And do they do amazing things with cheese! Passing a bakery that had the most scrumptious looking wares in its window, I treated myself to a Zwiebelkuchen and a Pflaumenkuchen -- a small onion tart and a plum one. The onion tart had a filling something like a soufflé, with an incredibly light and cheesy texture; the crust was light and flakey like a croissant. It was just about the most delicious thing I've ever eaten. The plum tart was equally heavenly, not too sweet, light and fruity. Whoever thought these up should get the Nobel Prize in Tart Making!
I wanted to return by a different route, so I took a country road that bypassed Fribourg before turning south. It was lovely farmland, dotted with ancient villages; there was even the occasional castle to be seen. To the east were the peaks of the Berner Oberland, the high country around Bern. The French call it Le Pays d'Enhaut (the high country) or, in a typically Swiss fusion of both languages, L'Oberland Bernois. James made a delectable meal and together we polished off a bottle of a fine local rouge. Quite a fine day it was.

Villa Diodati

As my friend James had to work this morning, I took a walk down to the town of Ouchy (pronounced ou-SHEE) on the lake. France lies directly on the other side and one can take a boat ride to the town of Evian-les-Bains, (source of Evian water, btw). I saw a banner hanging from a balcony that read: “Ni Nationalité, ni claxon!”, which would translate as: Neither nationalism nor horn blowing! I don’t imagine the sedate, law-abiding Swiss were fond of last night’s exuberent display. If Germany had won, nothing would have happened here. There aren’t many Germans around.
Things in Europe are frightfully expensive. I happened to be in Europe on January 1, 2002, when the European Union abandonded their separate currencies and switched over to the Euro. At that time the exchange rate with the US dollar was at parity. The other day I exchanged $100 for a mere 61 euros. Ouch! I stopped for a small cup of coffee in a café down the street and paid SF 3,50 for it, about $3.20. One other concern is parking. There are virtually no free parking places in all of Lausanne. I am paying $18 a day to park in a garage down the street. Ouch again. This evening we went out to eat at a really nice Italian place down the street. I reckon our meal cost at least twice as much as something comparable in the US. It's an expensive place to be, but it's only money...
James had the afternoon off but could not be enticed to drive to Geneva with me. He hates the place. It's not really a Swiss city, but an international one, and the playground of the rich. I had been there many times before. The main attraction today was the Villa Diodati, where Byron, Shelley & Co. spent the summer of 1816 (also the setting for a certain obscure opera...). I knew generally where to find it, in the village of Cologny. It was once a separate entity, but is now the ritziest residential area of Geneva with fine villas offering a splendid view of the lake and the mountains beyond. I am not the first person to seek out Diodati. There was a map in the town square which led me to it, down a few narrow lanes, one of them appropriately named Rue Byron. The villa is now private property (housing some foundation or other, I think). The house and the grounds have been beautifully maintained. It was not open for viewing, but one can see the villa and the gardens from the lane. Abutting the Maison Diodati is an empty field called the Pré de Byron (Byron's field). There was a small carpark and a plaque describing the history of the villa. The smaller house in which Percy, Mary Shelley and Claire Clairmont stayed, the Maison Chappuis, would have been at the bottom of the field, but it has long since been torn down. I must report that I was deeply moved to be there, moved to tears. I had seen photos of Diodati on the internet, of course, but to actually stand on the spot, feel the warmth of the air and enjoy the serenity of that place where Byron and friends passed many times during their summer here was a little overwhelming. Okay, so I got a little verklemmt... These characters and the villa occupied my imagination for more than two years of my life and are a part of me. Cast of "Everlasting Universe", I salute you!
Having seen what I wanted to see I thought it would be nice to take a walk in the vieille ville, the old town of Geneva, and visit the Cathédrale de Saint Pierre. I followed the signs but then got hopelessly lost and had to give up. I saw a sign for the autoroute to Lausanne and headed back. The two cities are about 45 minutes apart on the autoroute, but it is not a particularly interesting drive. I should have taken the smaller road that goes along the shore of the lake (which, btw, is called here Lac Léman).