Straßengel

This was the weekend of my Liederabend and Liedersoirée. The first performance took place Saturday evening to a standing-room only crowd in the Festsaal of the Odilien Institut, a venue conveniently located just around the corner from the Heim. After weeks of coaching, preparations and a little anxiety, the concert came off splendidly. Each one of the twelve vocalists and three pianists under my direction did their very best. If I may pat myself on the back a bit, I have a knack for finding just the right song for each vocalist and I do know how to put together an interesting and varied program. There were a few selections that no one had heard before, in particular the Mendelssohn and Peter Cornelius duets I programmed, as well as a few Robert Franz songs. The second performance took place Sunday morning in the Meerscheinschlößl. Everyone gasped when they entered the room. I had forgotten just how beautiful this little rococo treasure is with its frescoed ceiling and grand chandelier. The second performance went even better, to an equally enthusiastic audience.
After a few days of rain it finally cleared up. I was eager to get away a bit after the late morning concert and decided to visit the town of Straßengel (which I discussed in the previous blog entry) in order to inspect its famous church. The pilgrimage church of Maria Straßengel sits on a hill in the middle of the small town. It is visible from the train when traveling north from Graz. Built in the mid-fourteenth century, the church is considered one of the best examples of High Gothic architecture in all of Austria. That may be, but in my humble opinion, the Frauenkirche on the Hauptmarkt in Nürnberg is prettier and not desecrated with the usual Baroque overlay. Still, the Straßengel church is charming and beautifully situated. In 1788 someone had the bright idea of tearing down the church and using the stones to build a school. A noble idea, but a stupid one, matching the barbarity of later ages. The local inhabitants were so incensed at the prospective loss of their pilgrimage church that they protested and petitioned the Emperor. Eventually the order was rescinded and the church stayed.
As I have noted in these pages before, Austria is unmistakably Roman Catholic. Not only are there countless churches around, but in the countryside one finds many roadside devotional altars. Most of these are dedicated to the Virgin Mary. This type of simple rustic devotion seems to me to stem from the same impulse that has existed in Europe for millennia, an expression of homage to unknown forces, the simple, naive wish that some deity out there can provide us with protection if we appeal with sufficient sincerity. Before Christianity people made their entreaties (ie. put their faith in) the imagined spirits of the forest. In pagan times, when the matriarchy predominated, the Great Mother was worshipped in many forms. The Virgin Mary is just another incarnation of the same. In effect, Christianity is the same game with a different name. There is nothing at all wrong with this, of course, but isn't it time that humanity grew out of its superstitions?

Names

In a previous blog I mentioned the town of Deutschfeistritz. There are a number of place names in the area that contain the word 'Deutsch' in them, such as Deutschlandsberg to the south of here. It is a curiosity that merits some explanation. Graz is located in the extreme southeastern corner of the German-speaking world. The Slovenian border to the south and the Hungarian border to the east are each less than an hour away. Since the dissolution of the Roman Empire until the 17th century this area was the first defense against the incursion of Slavic and Magyar tribes, and later against the expansion of the Ottoman Empire into Central Europe. The decisive turning point which saved Europe from becoming a Moslem vassal state was the Battle of Vienna in 1683. In the Middle Ages the apellation 'Deutsch' would have referred to cultural affiliation, not to a political entity.

On the way north by train from Graz, or on the Autobahn, one of the first towns is Judendorf-Straßengel. I wondered about the derivation of the name Judendorf and have since discovered that there are many towns with similar names in the German-speaking world. There is a Judenburg to the west of here as well as several other towns with the name Judendorf in the Steiermark. As I suspected, these names were acquired in the Middle Ages, when Jews were sometimes given permission to live in designated towns. Reading the German-language wikipedia entry or the official website of Judendorf-Straßengel, there is no mention whatsoever of the derivation of the first part of the town's name, although the derivation of the second part is given (it stems from a Slavic word, 'straza'). I was only enlightened when I read an article in the Jewish Encyclopdia on-line which offered a comprehensive history of the Jews in the Steiermark. It is the usual tale of persecutions, brutality, disenfranchisement and evictions. Perhaps the worst atrocity, only outdone by the total annihilation of the Jewish population by the Nazis, was an event which took place in Judenburg in 1421, when seventy Jews were burned at the stake by their Christian neighbors on the ridiculous grounds of having 'desecrated the host'. One can only surmise that the official website of Judendorf-Straßengel wishes to avoid this sticky part of its history and its treatment of Jews throughout the centuries.

In the forest

I stopped for lunch and sat on a log somewhere in the middle of the forest on top of the Schenkenberg. Looking up I could see the blue, blue sky and the crowns of the trees bathed in sunlight. I shall think of this moment on some dreary winter day.

Blumengarten

This is just an ordinary house in the village of Adriach, outside of Frohnleiten. The garden was exploding with color. The Austrians (and Germans and Swiss) do love their flowers.

In Waldeseinsamkeit

I knew that today was maybe the last time I had to do some serious hiking. Since my Liederabend programs takes place next weekend I can't do anything then. After a few days of cool, rainy weather (which we all loved) today turned warm and sunny. I finally invested in a Wanderkarte, a hiking map, of the Graz area. I planned my hike and set off by train early this morning. After traveling twenty-five minutes to the north I was in the town of Frohnleiten. (I have visited this charming little town before and posted some pics of it on this blog -- it is perhaps the prettiest town in the whole Steiermark.) The plan was to follow a marked trail up a nearby mountain, walk along the top, and back down further south where I could catch the train back from Peggau-Deutschfeistritz (now there's a very Austrian name for you!). On the way to the start of the trail I passed through the tiny village of Adriach and went by the local church. Mass must have just gotten out. Virtually every person was dressed in Austrian national costume, the ladies in their pretty dirndls and the men in Lederhosen and smart Tyrolean jackets. What a fine looking group of people they were! It was quite a strenuous hike until I reached the top of the mountain. Most of the trail was in deep forest but occasionally there were clearings which afforded panoramic views of the area. One photo shows Frohnleiten in the valley of the Mur (the same river that runs through Graz). Both the major train line north and the Autobahn to Vienna run through this narrow valley. It is surprising to find dairy farms at such high altitudes, but they have managed to create pasture land on the steepest slopes. On the way down I somehow got off the marked trail and ended up somewhere I didn't expect to be. With my trusty map I found my way and made it to the train, many extra kilometers later. It was another of those adventures one must expect hiking in unknown territory. I figure I must have walked at least 16-20 miles today. The day ended with a superb dinner with colleagues at a place called the Gasthof Jobstl (another very Austrian name), which sits on a hill overlooking our neighborhood and the mountains beyond.

Liederkomponisten in Graz

A few months ago the director of the program here asked me if I could come up with something special to celebrate the 40th anniversary year of AIMS in Graz. Short of conjuring up the spirit of Hugo Wolf in a séance, I couldn't think of anything. But one day it hit me that I already had a ready-made program. During my two previous summers here I learned some of Graz's musical history and had accumulated a few stories of visits to this city by various composers. With a bit of research in the library I was able to piece together a lecture/recital program of stories of various composers in Graz interspersed with songs they wrote about the times of their respective visits. The lecture part practically wrote itself. When I got here this summer I just needed to find the best singers I could to participate on the program -- and the ones I asked all did so eagerly. I lucked out with engaging some of the finest Lieder singers here. The recital took place last Monday, July the 26th in the Pfarrsaal Sankt Leonhard. Here is the musical portion of the lecture/recital:

“Der Lindenbaum” Franz Schubert (from Die Winterreise), “In Waldeseinsamkeit” and “Vergebliches Ständchen” Johannes Brahms, “Freundliche Vision” and “Kling!” Richard Strauss, “Oft denk’ ich, sie sind ausgegangen!” Mahler (from the Kindertotenlieder), “Nacht” Alban Berg“ (from the Sieben Frühe Lieder) and "Durch Einsamkeiten” by Josef Marx.

The last song was written by a composer who was actually born in Graz. I had some misgivings about including that piece in the program, but was glad I did. It is written for Mezzo-soprano, viola and piano. It was exotic and lush and virtually nobody had ever heard this song before. I was fortunate to enlist the help of a fine young violist from the AIMS orchestra (who is actually an American living in Graz full-time). The concert hall was nearly filled and the program was very enthusiastically received. I also went to the trouble of printing out texts and translations, something that is ordinarily not done here. I wondered if there was perhaps too much talking on my part, and if the program was perhaps a bit too high falutin' in tone. But everyone said later that it was just right, very interesting and entertaining. Not to sound immodest, but I think this was the classiest program presented here all summer. It was a lot of work to get it all organized, but it was a great experience for me to do it.

Bericht II

I thought I wouldn't include any more photos of Graz, but I snapped these of the courtyard across from the Sankt Leonhardkirche, our charming Baroque church just down the street. These buildings are probably mid-nineteenth century. With the roses and old trees it looks like a corner that has been forgotten by time.
A few nights ago we had our grand Gala to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of AIMS in Graz. Instead of holding the opening concert in the Aula of Karl-Franzens-Universität, the festivities took place in the lovely Stephaniensaal downtown (and a big plus was that the S-saal was air-conditioned -- sort of). The program opened with Rimsky-Korsakov's "Russian Easter Overture". It was followed by a few arias sung by alumni of the program who were brought in for the occasion. The first half ended with the "Fledermaus" Overture. The second half continued with various arias and ensembles from the same operetta and ended with the finale thereof. It was all very nicely done.
Meanwhile, the heat wave continues. Today it is supposed to be 35 C (in the upper nineties), with ever rising humidity. Getting on the non-AC tram is like taking a ride in an oven on wheels. Now we know what a Thanksgiving turkey feels like. Storms are promised for this evening and a cool-down. I have yet to hear an Austrian complain about the heat. They just put up with it as a fact of life. I thought of escaping for the weekend to the mountains and looked into the possibilities, but I thought of it too late to make the necessary arrangements. The Salzkammergut, the area of lakes and mountains outside of Salzburg, is just two hours by train. The Styrian Alps are less than an hour north of here. Maybe next weekend...

Bericht aus Graz

I don't intend to report much on my doings here this summer because they are much like last summer. The program is now in full swing. I have a great studio and enjoy my work. I love being in this pleasant and civilized city. Along with coaching I also deliver a series of six lectures on Lied composers and, in celebration of the 40th anniversary year of AIMS in Graz, I am doing a special lecture/recital entitled "Liederkomponisten in Graz". For this event I have had to enlist a number of vocalists to sing the selections I require. But I managed to line up someone for every Lied I want to have sung on the program.
Ever since I got here it has been hot, with no end in sight. The mid 90's (that's 34 Celsius) may not sound too bad to someone in the States, but there is no air-conditioning here. We live in the heat all day. Fortunately, it cools off at night. And Austrians (along with the Germans) have a silly superstition that a draft will make you sick, so they close all the windows. The street cars are stifling. Last night we went out to the fabulous Eggensberger Schloss for the gala reception. The Baroque castle (actually built as a hunting lodge) never fails to impress. The surrounding park is gorgeous. There was a (thankfully) short program in the Planetensaal, the splendid hall. The candles were lit to re-create the proper atmosphere and, of course, they closed all the windows! It must have been 110 in there.
The other day I experienced a little encounter that reminded me how different the Austrians are from the Germans. I went to the university music library, to which we have access, to find some music. I only needed to copy two pages. There is the usual set-up with a copy machine for which one needs to buy a card. Not wanting to go through all that for two pages, I asked the nice man at the desk what the procedure was. He pulled out a card, apparently left over or discarded and said: Here, use this, it still has a few copies left on it. It was a kind and helpful thing to do. From my experience, and that of others, such helpfulness would be unlikely in Germany. There, you would be scolded and told what the rules were. The Germans can be insufferably narrow, unbending, petty and downright rude. I never experience that here in Austria.

Die Ankunft

I arrived happily in Graz about midday. The drive north took five hours. It rained lightly in the mountains, something welcome after being in parched Italia. The autostrada route took me first east, past the exit to Venice, then in the direction of Trieste, the eastern most Italian port on the Adriatic. I turned north before that, passing the city of Udine. The countryside was flat farmland until the Alps rose up majestically from the plains north of Udine. As I anticipated, the traffic was light on this road. It was a beautiful highway, a pleasure to drive on. The toll was a bit steep, but well worth it.
As much as I love hearing spoken Italian I have had my fill of it for now. The radio stations in Italy are horrible -- heavily commercialized and playing insipid rock music, accompanied by a steady stream of moronic chatter. And contrary to popular belief, not all Italians can sing; some of the warblers I heard on the radio would be well advised to take a few voice lessons. There was not one single classical station to be found on the Italian airwaves, whereas both Austrian Radio and the Bavarian Radio each have a station dedicated to cultural programming. Crossing into Austria I was happy to pick up OE 1 and hear an extensive interview with the great Austrian pianist Alfred Brendel, interspersed with his marvelous playing.
I pulled into a rest stop outside of Klagenfurt and was dazzled by its modernity, cleanliness and appeal. There is something to be said for being in a country with a high standard of living. Arriving in Graz it felt that I had only left a few days ago. It is like coming home. But wasn't it only yesterday that I was in Venice, baking in the Italian sun, dazzled by the magic of that city? It seems like a dream.

Venezia III

A few more random pics. I think I will be dreaming of La Serenissima tonight...

Venezia II

It never ceases to amaze me how unadventurous people are. The hordes of tourists all go to the same places and few venture from the beaten path. Part of the fun of exploring this city is walking aimlessly down narrow alleyways and crossing side canals. Sometimes I found myself nearly alone in some quaint piazzetta. The term 'sun drenched' comes to mind with some of these pics.

The Rialto Bridge

After a few previous wooden bridges on this site were either burned or collapsed, a permanent stone structure was erected. It was finished in 1591. The designer's name, in an amusing coincidence, was Antonio da Ponte. It translates as: Tony the Bridge. Only a few bridges span the Grand Canal. This is the most impressive of them and it has become one of the icons of Venice.

Piazza San Marco

This is one of the most famous public squares in the world. On one end is the basilica with the Doges Palace attached to it. The tower is on the other side. The two pillars, one with the Lion of Saint Mark, are by the Grand Canal. It was in reading a book about the history of this city ("Paradise of Cities" by John Julius Lord Norwich) that inspired me to write my opera "Everlasting Universe". When Byron lived here he swam the canal from the piazza to the Rialto Bridge. He must have been in great form! You will not find a pic of the Bridge of Sighs because, alas, it is under wraps for renovations. Sigh.

The Horses of Saint Mark

This equestrian group has a long history. They are ancient, from classical Greece, and originally adorned the hippodrome of Constantinople. When that city was sacked in the Fourth Crusade (to the eternal shame of Christendom) they were looted and brought to Venice where they were placed above the entrance to San Marco. When Napoleon arrived in 1797 and put an end to the thousand years of the glorious Venetian Republic, he in turn looted them and brought the horses to Paris. They were returned to Venice in 1815. The horses outside are copies. The originals are in the museum, and here they are! By a stroke of good fortune nobody was around, and no guard to reprimand me for snapping a photo. The Horses of Saint Mark! They are magnificent!!

San Marco II

I have been to Venice before, but that was a long time ago, perhaps forty years. When I planned my itinerary I thought: let me see Venice once more before I die. I am so glad I made the effort to come here.
The Basilica of Saint Mark was originally consecrated in 1094 and expanded for centuries afterwards. If it seems oriental that is because it is, being heavily influenced by Byzantine style. The basilica is shaped like a Greek cross and it has five magnificent cupolas.
When I was here before I remember just walking into the church. Those days are now gone. I had to wait in line first in the hot sun to visit the loggia (affording great views) and the museum. There was a service going on at the time, so the church itself was not accessible. But we could hear the choir singing -- and it was magnificent. Later the screens blocking the view of the nave were removed and we could see the interior from the upper loggia. Breathtaking! I came back later to go into the church (and had to stand in line again). There are so many people here. Forty years ago there were fewer people on the planet and since then, with the liberation of Eastern Europe and Russia, the pool of tourists has swelled even more. (I have run into Russians and Chinese everywhere.)

San Marco

If Venice was the highlight of my journey, the church of San Marco was the highlight of Venice. To a musician this is hollowed ground. In this very church, virtually unchanged since the sixteenth century, Claudio Monteverdi was the choir master, followed by Giovanni da Gabrielli. Antonio Vivaldi worked near here. This is one of the greatest buildings in the world, steeped in history. The entire surface is done in gold mosaics. As the floor has settled over the centuries the building is leaning here and there, the floor uneven -- but it is exactly the same as it was centuries ago. The atmosphere is dark, mysterious, almost oriental. Pictures were strictly vietato, forbidden, but many tourists ignored that and snapped away. I was awed to be here and moved to tears. San Marco!!

Venezia I

What can one say about Venice? La Serenissima e bellissima!! I opted to leave my auto in the hotel parking garage and take the train in. It took 25 minutes. Again, it is really hot (upper nineties). I joined the steaming masses to hoof it through the winding streets and over countless bridges. When I got to the Rialto Bridge, despite the throngs and the heat I had a moment of epiphany: this is Venice! the light, the life, the joy of the place! La vita, i colori, la gioia! It is a miracle, like no place else on earth. Later, at the Piazza San Marco, traipsing along on the hot stones in the blazing heat, I thought: We are all crazy to be out here, but that is what you do because Venezia is so special. There is no lack of photo opportunities; I took 54 shots. One becomes snap-happy. Here are some to start. I can only post a few because I don't have the right plug in order to re-charge my computer battery (every country in Europe has different plugs; aaargh!). I am leaving very early tomorrow morning, taking the autostrada north towards Udine, crossing into Austria at Villach, and on to Graz.

Padova

Padua is a fine old town with a long history. It was important in Roman times but was completely destroyed in the 7th century. It survived several ups and downs. The heart of the old town has winding, arcaded streets. I took the quick, three-hour walking tour. The most important site, the Scrovegni Chapel with its Giotto frescoes, I will not get to see. One needs to get tickets beforehand. It's a pity because I adore Giotto. I have seen his other magnum opus in Assisi. The photos show a typical street, the famous Prato della Valle with the basilica of Santa Giustina, and the 13th century basilica of San Antonio. The latter includes the tomb and various relics of St. Anthony (who was from Padua). The relics are housed in a separate chapel, totally over-the-top Baroque. To the Roman Catholics ostentation equals veneration. The church is quite impressive, though it is a goulash of styles. Santa Giustina also houses relics of various worthies, especially the corpse of Saint Luke. He was buried in Greece, but his coffin was 'miraculously' unearthed next to the church centuries ago and the then pope declared it authentic (and how the hell would he know?) The gullible need their relics, I suppose, and the church has a donation box by every single one of them.
Padua also boasts one of the oldest universities in the world. It is a mere 800 years old and counts Galileo Galilei as one of its former faculty.

L'autostrada

Today is a travel day. I left early in the morning headed south along the lake towards Como. If I were unadventurous I could have simply gotten on the freeway that heads towards Milano, circled the city and continued east. But I wanted to avoid the big city congestion. From Como I continued on a secondary road towards Lecco, on the southern tip of the other arm of the lake, then south to Bergamo where I picked up the autostrada. It was not a pictureque ride at all, rather another long stretch of modern Italian commercial/residential blight. That is what happens when you don't have strict zoning laws. Those people who complain about the intrusion of the government into our lives should think of the alternative. Germany, Austria, and especially Switzerland all carefully control what can be built where, and the result is an enviornment that is pleasing to everyone.
When I finally entered the autostrada I thought it would be clear sailing. Boy, was I wrong! We inched along, bumper to bumper, for about forty minutes. If it is like this all the way to Padua, I thought, I won't get there until tomorrow! But 'il traffico intenso' cleared after a while. Everyone is going somewhere. The freeway system is like that in the States: you get a card when you enter the motorway and pay when you leave. There are periodic rest-stops and eateries. I stopped midway for a bite of lunch. The service area was complete bedlam; there were far too many people in it. You had to pay for your selection first, then go elswhere to have it prepared. All sorts of pizzas and hot sandwiches were offered. I had a Rusticella = a kind of thin pita bread stuffed with ricotta and mozzarella cheeses as well as spinach. It was thrown onto a grill press for a short while - and it was delicious! The ladies at the counters worked at a frenzied pace, slinging sandwiches onto the grill or tabulating change, but they were all polite and patient with lots of 'pregos' and 'grazies'. I hope they get paid a lot! (Fat chance!)
My route passed Brescia, Verona and Vicenza. I considered making a quick stop in Verona to see the sights, but the thought of driving into the town, driving in circles to find a parking garage, then traipsing about in the hot sun seemed too much. I was in Vicenza just a year ago. I will take a look at Padua this evening and go into Venice for the day tomorrow. Venezia is only about 25 miles away.

Map of Lago di Como

Here is a cosmic coincidence: eighteen years ago J.J. and his then wife Monica came to Lago di Como in the off season. They took a boat part way up the lake, got off and walked a long while until they found a hotel that was open. Yesterday at breakfast J.J. realized that this was the very same hotel he and Monica stayed at all those years ago. Of all the hundreds of hotels on this lake I could have chosen to stay at I ended up in this one, the Hotel Riviera in Cadenabbia.
In case, dear reader, you have not pulled down the old atlas and dusted it off, here is a map to show you where I am. Varenna (not shown) is on the east shore of the lake, just north of Bellagio.

Cruisin' on the lago

My friend J.J. wanted to get an early start back to Lausanne, so we left for the Lugano stazione right after breakfast. On the way back I stopped at a small lake on the Italian side of the border, in the mountain pass, the Lago di Piano. (And is there a Lago di Fortissimo, perhaps? Or a Lago di Saxaphone?) It is a very small lake, by New England standards a pond. The guidebook I consulted said that one could walk entirely around the lago. They lied. Still, it was nice to have a bit of a walk in such a beautiful spot.
I wanted to spend some time in one of the several villas on the lake, one with a botanical garden, but it is just too hot to be traipsing about. Instead, I purchased a day ticket (at the reasonable price of eleven euros} for the lake ferries which allows one unlimited travel to a half dozen towns in the mid-lake area. I sailed Cadenabbia-Bellagio-Varenna-Menaggio and return. (There is no connection between Menaggio and Cadenabbia or I could have completed the circle.) It is really hot, in the low 90's, weather only for mad dogs, Englishmen and tourists to be out and about. Spending the afternoon and early evening on the water was a good idea. Lago di Como is stunningly beautiful.
I know some of my readers are very curious to know what we had for dinner last night in Menaggio. It was a memorable meal. J.J. ordered lake trout which was lightly fried in a sesame batter and served with chard sautéed in butter. I had a saffron risotto. As a primo we both had a superb insalata mista. The only option for dressing is virgin olive oil and balsamic vinegar. What else would you want to put on such a beautiful salad? Surely not the gloppy dressings that Americans seem to love, laced with sugar and salt, smothering the delicacy of the greens. J.J. ordered us a bottle of fine local Merlot. For dessert I enjoyed a 'penna cotta al mou' which is a fine soft cheese, something like ricotta, with caramel drizzled over it. Heaven!

Menaggio

We drove back north, passing Cadenabbia to the next town of Menaggio. It is the prettiest and most elegant town on this part of the lake. We lazed in the shade, admiring the view, watching the ferries and sailboats glide by. We liked Menaggio so much that we returned in the evening for dinner, dining at a lovely restaurant with a view of the lake. We experienced every tourist cliché in the book, including a wandering accordion player. It was heaven.

The Duomo in Como

After breakfast we headed south along the lakeside to the main town of Como. I had wanted to go by boat but the schedule didn't work out for us. The drive is very pretty but entails going through town after town with very narrow streets and impatient drivers. Apparently the locals get annoyed if you don't drive twice the posted speed limit. Oh, these hot-blooded Italians! Then there is the hassle of parking and driving around in circles. Having a vehicle is nice, but sometimes it is more trouble than it is worth.
The town of Como was settled in Celtic times. Julius Caesar himself ordered that the swamp be drained and the settlement moved down to its present location at the south end of the lake. Both Pliny the Elder and Younger lived here and Cosima Liszt (who later married Wagner) was born in Como. The main attraction is the fine duomo with its façade erected and decorated in the mid-fifteenth century. The interior is quite spacious. The cupola is late 18th century.

Views of Cadenabbia and Bellaggio

The view of Cadenabbia and our hotel from the ferry, and the view from Bellaggio.