I'm. COLD.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful,
but the fire is so delightful,
and since we've no place to go,
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!


I could not disagree more.





Welcome to winter in Italy, where the houses aren't insulated and there exists no infrastructure for snow removal!


Yesterday, I actually smiled while taking the above photo, thinking, "Isn't this magical?" It wasn't til three hours later, when the snow still had not stopped and I had arrived at home to take this photo, that I realized what a problem snow is for this city.





This amount of snow (about 10-15 cm) is a nuisance in Toronto or Montreal, but it does not bring life to a screeching halt, and it certainly does not bring about a state of crisis like it does here. The news last night was nothing but reports on the terrible gridlock, the condition of the rail tracks (trains didn't go), the lack of public transportation above ground, the terrible ice. It was about -6 and it snowed, like I said, no more than 15 cm. Of course, this part of Italy never gets this kind of weather, ever; what did I expect?

Well, I certainly didn't expect the pipes to freeze.

Houses here are not insulated like they are at home. In fact, the room I stay in has three walls to the outside of the condo and those three walls are made from something resembling aluminum siding, and you can bet there is not a scrap of insulation present. Needless to say, without my little space heater, I'd put my room at about 12 degrees at its coldest. I actually had a really terrible revelation the other day; I had my bed against these walls and my suitcase, and I pulled my suitcase away from the wall to clean and revealed a lovely crop of mold; the walls accumulate condensation because of the difference in temperature when I heat the room, and if there is anything cloth against the wall, you can guess what happens. Obviously this is no longer the case, and I keep the room cooler, much to my chagrin.

I digress. Because there is no insulation, the poor pipes don't stand a chance; I really had not thought of this, because it would never happen at home at -6!!! We have no hot water today, so if I would like a shower, I may as well go take a dip in Lake Como, because it would probbaly be about as warm.

As for infrastructure -- I have seen salting trucks here but nary a snowplow in sight, and let's be honest, these roads ain't built for 'em. The news was showing people clearing their sidewalks with gardening implements, like hoes; not a spade or shovel to be found. So I'm not too sure how they are going to deal with the snow we got overnight. I know they've closed the schools; ATM, the public transport company, is insisting that service will be as good, if not better that usual; still, I can't wait for Wednesday, when it's going up to 6 and the rain will wash this mess away, and we can pretend it never happened.

a Trittico à la Danielle

I was in London twice this month, and my timing was impeccable, as I was able to catch a concert version of Otello (Verdi) with Gerald Finley as Iago!!! with the LSO on Dec 3 and Der Rosenkavalier at the Royal Opera on Dec 13.

While Finley's interpretation of Iago was pretty much revolutionary and well-matched by the masterful playing of the LSO with Sir Colin Davis at the helm (and would we have expected anything different? The LSO IS RAD), I am sad to say his colleagues paled in comparison.
Otello was actually a pinch singer, whose name I am embarrassed to forget (the program is safely packed away in the suitcase heading to Canada with my mom) and I forgive him for any indiscretions (ie vowel modifications) he committed during the performance. I bet he'd gotten off the plane that morning; these things must be considered.
Entrances were made during the music, as it was a concert performance; Ms Tufano, who had 3 lines as Emilia, sashayed onstage with as much ado as she could muster during a very dramatic bit of Otello's, completely upstaging him, in a black strapless number that left absolutely nothing to the imagination from my seat in the rafters. She took her seat and proceeded to drink water, play with her hair, and rifle repeatedly through her score before completely botching her miniscule bit in the ensemble near the end of the first(?) act. I was unimpressed.
Anne Schwanewilms as Desdemona left a little to be desired as well -- absolutely not artistically, though, and I am sure she had a pretty voice, but I couldn't hear her at all for a good 90% of the opera. Good thing the orchestra was making pretty sounds.
As I mentioned, Finley absolutely stole the show. His Iago was ruthless and technically impeccable. The colours he achieved -- at one point subsiding to barely a whisper that was audible in every corner of the hall -- brought shivers and the notion that here was a man who had not a good bone in his body.

Der Rosenkavalier was certainly more polished, well-balanced, and overall, enjoyable. It boasted Sophie Koch (who is DROP DEAD GORGEOUS) as Octavian, Lucy Crowe (young and up and coming and really quite charming) as Sophie, and Soile Isokoski (no idea who she is, but a nice light lyric) as Marschallin, and the three made a very very dynamic trio. The cast included Thomas Allen as Faninal, which was a treat, and Peter Rose was an excellent Ochs. The production was a revival of the 1986 Covent Garden production , for which I give them props: the dress the Te Kanawa is wearing on the front cover is worth the price of admission (£12.50, I stood) alone.
I left the theatre that evening feeling as though I myself had done the opera: drained but wired, as you often are after a show, and craving human contact. I ended up writing something like 6 pages in my journal. I felt as though the performers really took me on a journey; I was inspired as I am not very often inspired after a night at the theatre. I can't say much more about it because some things you don't have words for.

The third opera of my Trittico is Carmen, here in Milano, which I have gotten sneak peeks of by way of my obliging colleague who is singing a supporting role. Sitting in on rehearsals of the opera that will open La Scala's season and chatting with JONAS KAUFMANN (who should be People's next Sexiest Man Alive, if only because he's SUUUUCH the Gentleman) is certainly how I like to spend my Friday nights. Tomorrow I will stand in line for one of 140 10-euro gallery seats to see the finished product. This is Emma Dante's new production which has gotten a lot of hype; from what I saw in rehearsal, there is a good deal of Roman Catholic imagery, as well as many allusions to the Sicilian mafia. It isn't really updated, though; it seems as though it will be suspended in time as more of an allegory than anything.

Stay tuned...

Bartoli or Bust...??

I just got back from London, where I had the privilege of seeing Der Rosenkavalier in an excellent production with a stellar cast at Covent Garden. It prompted me to dig out a reflection I wrote after seeing La Bohème in a regional house in Italy.

October 15, 2009

I went to see an opera in Cremona on Tuesday night. It was La Bohème, a standard, and I was curious what the quality of a regional opera produciton would be here, and what the audience would be like. The theatre looked big and classy, and their season has a lot of interesting things: Weill's Seven Deadly Sins, Bernstein's Trouble in Tahiti, and La Voix Humaine which really piqued my curiosity, besides the usual fare (Verdi, Bellini, etc). Naturally, I wanted to check out any theatre company that would bring in Poulenc one-woman shows.

It turned out to be a real trial to get there. I worked until 6.30 that evening and caught a taxi to the Central Station for a 6.50 train. I was in a bad romantic comedy, chasing the lead to the airport, stuck in traffic, tapping my fingers on the armrest and praying for the light to turn green. I did make the train but only because I RAN; it got in at 7.50 and the show began at 8.30. I was in my seat in good time, but not without a few grey hairs.

Finding my way to the theatre was easy, but wandering around in the dark after the show trying to find my hostel was not. It turned out to be on the other side of town (which is actually maybe 1 km, but everything is relative) and thanks to the help of two very nice Cremonesi ladies, I arrived relatively intact at 11.45, a good hour after the rumpled, disgruntled priest who opened the door would have liked, by the looks of things.

I sat next to a tenor who was also there alone, and we got to chatting. When he learned that I was from Milano, he did a double take. "You came all that way to see THIS?" He got me thinking. I did come all this way, not without a good deal of effort, from the city of La Scala, to see what turned out to be a mediocre production of La Bohème, an opera that I will probably see a hundred more times in my life. To be fair, Cremona is about as far from Milano as Aurora is from Toronto, but Italy is a lot smaller than Canada, so what doesn't seem like a lot to me certainly does to your average Italian; you can also get home from Aurora late at night, while the trains from Cremona finish at 10 pm, hence my having to stay over.

Anyway, I sat there and thought about all the fuss I had to go to in order to get my butt in the seat that night. Was it worth it?

Well let's answer that quantitatively. I've definitely seen better operas, and definitely better Bohèmes, even on DVD or youtube. Some of the Bohèmes I've seen had singers that actually acted, even. They had a cool black and white 20's flapper thing going on, which really suited the production but isn't a new idea, really, but the music itself left something to be desired. The orchestra was often too loud for the younger singers (ie Rodolfo and Mimì), a common problem in my experience with Bohème, and the singers actually didn't have the most wonderful timbres, though they were technically pretty solid. As I said, very little acting went on and the direction definitely didn't help with that. The exception was Musetta, who admittedly has more to work with, as she is, after all, Musetta. My big complaint with the singing, though, was something that really surprised me-- there was a lack of understanding of the Puccini style. The singing was not speech-like in the lower register and there was a lack of refinement in general, phrases poorly shaped and demonstrative of an ignorance of the textual significance of the melody in certain places, especially in the ensembles.

So why, when I live in Milano and can be at La Scala in 15 minutes, did I even bother?

That's a really, really good question.

Opera fans and would-be opera fans, as well as opera singers and would-be opera singers, now are able to get their hands on a plethora of media showcasing la crème de la crème of opera then and now. Think youtube, HD broadcasts, and digital remastering of all the old vinyls. We can even subscribe to online players like the Met's and listen to historical recordings on demand. We have developed extremely sophisticated tastes as a result of this, and are less forgiving of things we perceive as faults but might actually just be differences in taste, style, or performance practice.

So if it's not Alvarez, Domingo, Fleming, Frittoli, why bother? Well, I want to be an opera singer, and at least a few other people reading this blog too, and there just isn't room for that many people at the top. There has to be stops along the way. Think about it. Let's say we decided that there wasn't any point in going to the opera unless it was as good a Violetta as Renée Fleming (I happen to like her Traviata). We'd all end up forswearing our regional and independent companies, not to mention university opera programs, and opera would be relegated to a handful of huge, well-oiled corporations worldwide, the Emperor of which would be the Met, churning out polished productions attended by the highest bidders. Nothing would exist in a lower price bracket or in a smaller city than London, Milano or Toronto.
It would also mean that a lot of us would be out of jobs with no hope of a career, and some of us want a different career than Covent Garden, anyway.

It isn't practical to declare an all-or-nothing situation when it comes to art; even though we all acknowledge that perhaps Pavarotti was the best of his kind, or Picasso, or whoever, all those other people doing the same work in their own way are reaching a miltitude of people on a variety of other levels.

Even if that means that some seriously mediocre theatre has to exist, that's OK. It just means we have to lower our standards to "realistic" and know what it is we are about to see before we see it. Because someday, it's going to be me up there, or you, in Teatro Ponchielli in a small Italian town, or some backwater German regional house, and all the bluehairs and twenty somethings who want a little culture in their Friday night expect me to do my best for them.

So I consider my travails not in vain; in fact, you can conceive of them as an investment in my career. In some small way my bum in the seat helps that theatre stay open one more year and have a budget to hire new talent, and therefore maybe me or someone like me when we're ready to grow up and get paid to sing. On top of that grassroots and independent opera and regionally funded companies not only diversify the industry and provide jobs on many levels and in a lot of ways (who else has to be there for the show to go on?) but they also provide a service to the community they are in, maybe a community who would not think to make a pilgrimage like I did to the nearest La Scala. A community that goes to opera because it's there and maybe wouldn't have otherwise is not a community on which opera is wasted. There's a little opera for everyone this way, and not just the die-hards.

a meditation

disclaimer: this is merely what the title suggests. comments for this are disabled so as to avoid the "oh but you're so good" feedback. it's a subject every performer must come to terms with. I hope those of you who are artists find it helpful in some small way.

My students are often perplexed or pleasantly surprised to find out I study opera as well as teach English. I think many are surprised, most of all, to discover that it's what I'd rather be doing. Of course it's a very glamorous idea, but they are wise to the fact that there are many obstacles on this particular road.
I just quit my job, but if one of my students had asked me what the most difficult thing about my other career is, I'd get them to take out their vocabulary lists and add:

re‧jec‧tion

1 [uncountable and countable] the act of not accepting, believing in, or agreeing with something [≠ acceptance]

rejection of
What are the reasons for his rejection of the theory?

2 [uncountable and countable] the act of not accepting someone for a job, school etc [≠ acceptance]:
They sent me a rejection letter.

3 [uncountable] a situation in which someone stops giving you love or attention:
He was left with a feeling of rejection and loss.

Definition from the Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English
Advanced Learner's Dictionary.

It's important, when you're learning new vocabulary, to understand its full range of usages, as well as the expressions and contexts usually associated with it. An artist's situation most readily falls into entry number two in the above definition, but humour me, my hypothetical English class, while I try and find a bright side to this very difficult noun.

1. In this case, rejection is synonymous with disagreement, or with the absence of belief in something. Rejection of an ideology, a religion, a political bent, a theory or hypothesis; or, rejection of one's interpretation of the role, perhaps. Sometimes it's a question of taste, isn't it, especially when we're dealing with conductors and directors who have specific visions for a production or ideas about performance practice of early music.
Would I be willing to compromise my artistic concept in an audition? No, I don't think so -- what if I guessed wrong as to what they might be thinking of, anyway? Then I wouldn't be any farther ahead, and I wouldn't have shown my particular brand of artistry, which might have been what they were looking for in the first place. To thine own self be true, even if you're scared it isn't to someone else's liking.

2. This is more straightforward, isn't it? The letter in your hand either says yes or no. When you audition for Guildhall, you finish singing and wait in the hall for 2-3 minutes before that very letter is in your hand: you've barely had time to form an objective opinion about your singing, and you're still in a very vulnerable place, so when the letter says no, it comes as a really big slap in the face.
There is no easy answer to this. The only consolation is that often, it has nothing to do with how you performed. After a while, and a stack of rejection letters, you start to wonder who IS looking for your particular voice and look and whether you'll be there when the chance comes up?
I have thought about collecting my rejection letters in a folder, so that when I start to get acceptances, I might look back at how far I've come and what rollercoasters I had to ride to get there, and feel thankful. But many of us fear: what if the acceptances never come! And then I'd be stuck with a pile of salt to rub into my wounds.

3. This could be applied to the relationship the singer has with her voice: let me tell you, it exists. The voice takes on a life of its own; sometimes it is nothing but obedient and sweet, even generous and unexpected; sometimes, it has its own ideas about how it's going to go; and sometimes, it deserts you entirely in your hour of need. It's tempting to have something to blame other than yourself. Indeed, there are many who would advise to think of your voice as separate from yourself, so that criticism and rejection do not appear to you are personal attacks, but commentary on an instrument.
The relationship goes two ways. Your voice can appear to reject you when you sing a terrible audition for which you should have theoretically sung the shit out of, pardon my French; the high notes just don't work like they should, or your runs are sloppy. What gives?
In the long term, after years of diligent practice and near-obsession and a whole string of no's, Voice begins to resemble an absent spouse: there in your life, but present in name only, remiss in giving the support you need in your endeavours, and failing to provide what things it promised implicitly to provide by entering this relationship with you: after all, why, when you have poured your blood, sweat, and tears into the relationship and given Voice everything you have, are you left with nothing? The relationship shouldn't be one-sided! Hard work should pay off; you've done your part, so it can't be your fault. The blame must fall somewhere.

At a certain point, and that point is different for everyone, either Voice starts pulling its weight, or you reject it: you get a divorce. You leave; you quit.

Perhaps that is what I find hardest about this line of work: in many careers, hard work and complete devotion results in raises, promotions, and recognition. To boot, you feel as though something very personal is on the line.

The fear to overcome is not fear of rejection, I think; your artistry should not be affected so easily by outside forces. The fear of giving your all to your relationship with your voice is much more pertinent. If you hold anything back from that relationship you can never be sure that Voice will deliver 100% either. A great deal of faith, trust and love of yourself, your voice, and your art is required.

This is what I am learning.

apples and oranges

November 4, 2009



Furniture exhibit at the civic museums, Castello Sforzesco, Milano

It's not so much that there is a fresco hanging in a gallery near a furniture exhibit in a gallery.
It's that these frescoes are hanging everywhere. I would not be surprised to see frescoes hanging over the toilets and leaning against walls in closets in my apartment.
As I come from a country several centuries younger than most of these frescoes I don't have to explain why this is novel.

The image as microcosm of the city itself:
Italy is littered with 2,000-year-old stones, preserved saints' bodies, most of the wonders of the art world in full restored glory, and boasts an incredibly rich cultural and military history.
Cars whiz past the Colosseo in Rome. People on cell phones or headsets weave through tourists on the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.
The subway system in Milano houses several glassed-in ruins they found while digging the tunnels.
It's 1200 and 2009 in Italy right now.
Milano is an incredibly modern city. It's on the very edge of design and fashion, and the Milanesi strive to one-up each other with the latest in this technology, that runway trend, this car, that artist. There is some serious money here, which makes it all possible (there exists the other extreme, unfortunately, and I have yet to really define a middle class). Although like in other great Italian cities, the ancient presides silently over the progress and the velocity and chaos and traffic and noise of modern Milano, there seems to me here a tension between the old and the new.
This is really only speculation, but let's take Rome. It is really, really difficult to ignore the Colosseo and the Foro Romano, and the rocks strewn about the city, and eventually you make peace with the fact that your past will always haunt you, kind of like the old-fashioned stodgy uncle you really hate because he's always talking about how you should be more like he was at 20-whatever but you can't really hate him, because he's family and you can't choose your family.
Milano, on the other hand, has little ancient treasures hiding in unexpected places. I turned a corner yesterday and came face to face with an enormous Baroque church I had never noticed before, because it was obscured by a modern building housing a bank (Milano is the financial seat of Italy... let's call this symbolism).
I was a little shocked but in a pleasant way, as I am discovering the city as an outsider/tourist and everything is a little bit magical. But humour me and imagine I am a Milanese: I am a self-styled Modern European. I am on the cutting edge, always. I can't find the balance between where we came from and where we are, because I move forward, not in circles, contemplating, pondering. I like fast lunches and long work days like they have in America. Sometimes I eat McDonald's. Maybe I have an inferiority complex... maybe that's why I can't stand the backward, old-fashioned south.
It's hard to put a finger on it. But in my opinion, the table wasn't happy about being next to the old-fashioned uncle fresco.



Emanuele Arciuli played a great solo piano program on Monday night. I sat above him in the gallery and watched his hands.

The Liszt and Schumann were played beautifully with a lot of sensitivity. Visually, they make so much sense to our well-conditioned brains. The keyboard is used in the ways we expect -- up and down and up and down go the hands, moving together or away from each other, moving in parallel lines from left to right and making broad strokes in one direction or the next. There is always a linear relationship between them. Tension grows and is resolved. Western music is so satisfyingly predictable.

The Carter he played, Night Fantasies, took linear relationships and said, "This crap is useless." I described Arciuli's hands to a friend as "robot spiders"; not only was the piece full of 64th and 128th notes (I don't know, it just seemed that way), it worked out musical ideas in circular, repetitious patterns that left the listener stewing over them even after the piece was done. There was cadence and discernible shape to the form, to be sure. But in terms of pitch content and for lack of a better word, musical "shapes", it resembled a scatter graph or an Etch-a-Sketch when realized. While Liszt and Schumann seem to muse out loud, Carter seems to need to brood introspectively over musical "problems" in order to develop and resolve them. In fact, I think this says a lot about the sociocultural "mood" in each relevant epoch. Extremely provocative; caused me to realize all over again that I think of music visually and how important that element of it is.




Today I went straight to the practice room following a particularly harrowing reading comprehension lesson with my class from hell.

Some things just don't feel like work. Some things make you forget anything that's bad in your life and obscure stress, worries, insecurity. They clarify priorities and put your life in perspective. Even a passive experience, like being a spectator, instills calm and replenishes what soul has been sucked that day.

Some things are a job that make you money while you pursue more lofty ambitions and don't deserve time or energy off the clock. This is taught to you by the enlightening experiences you have singing Verdi and Massenet, a clandestine locked away in the corner of the conservatory where no caretakers will find you and evict you from your not-booked, totally not-yours practice room, before a concert in which you hear the Brahms string sextet and Verklarte Nacht.
Or... I mean... other enlightening experiences.

(Aside: I see most of the concerts I go to alone and it's during this time I usually have weird abstracted brain experiences. I think it's why I have never been tempted to try drugs. Verklarte Nacht put me on another plane tonight; I had forgotten how much I love it.)
a wee taste.

To finish:
Further proof of Italy's schizophrenia follows in the form of two towns on the same lake (Como).


Colico in the north...

and Lecco in the south.

London: Round One

the hyde park christmas MONSTER!

My first trip to London this year was early in the month of December, when it was just beginning to get chilly, and got dark around 4 pm.
(Europe in the winter never ceases to surprise me -- for example, the idea of temperatures so high as to allow rain all winter is such a novelty. 4 pm darkness would be something I was accustomed to if I were from Edmonton, but I'm not.)

A guy butted in front of me in the boarding pass line, I think without knowing he was doing it; his belated "so sorry, sorry" immediately tipped me off as to his provenance. When I spotted his passport I asked where he was from exactly; turns out we are from the same province, same city, same PART of same city.. and.. SAME HIGH SCHOOL. It is a truly small world.

Aside from a minor broken-boot incident that resulted in a day and a half of sopping foot in incessant downpours, the trip was really lovely. I stayed with an old singer friend and saw another few friends from school and my travels here; I was refreshed by the sight of familiar faces even in unfamiliar locales. London isn't that unfamiliar to me, as I spent three weeks exploring it in 2007 when a good friend was living there. So that probably helped too.

I finally ticked Brick Lane off my London bucket list with a soul-searing curry and a good friend from university. My soul was revived by a rambunctious and truly uplifting production of La Cage aux Folles. Who doesn't need a little drag in their life?

While I haven't been offered admission to the Royal Academy, I was placed on the waitlist for the final round of auditions for the Aix-en-Provence summer residency for lied and contemporary repertoire. A small success, but a pertinent one: the audition was a true learning experience. I went in to that audition about as cold as I could have gone into any audition; they were running early and I was running late, having got lost in the maze that surrounds Waterloo station. It was cold and I had walked for half a hour. I went in and the first sounds I made were.. well.. honks. But I am convinced that there is nothing I do better than contemporary repertoire and art song, especially if it's Hymnen an die Nacht, and I swear to you, there is nothing more valuable than your strongest warhorse on a bad day. That piece has pulled me through I don't know how many auditions. It's not just that though; we all have to enumerate our strengths and play on them, and one of mine is being myself on stage. (It's when you ask me to be a character that I freeze up.) And who better to be singing something as outré as Hymnen an die Nacht or as intimate as, say, An den Mond?

Lessons learned...

London-town, endless rain, and facebooking around the planet...

Remember how I said the sun was back out? I lied. That sentence was written in a freak moment in which I looked out the window and happened to see light, and promptly turned back to the screen, thereby missing the sun's rapid escape into the nebulous abyss...

Only kidding. But it rains a lot here! No more than it does in London, I am sure, which is my next destination -- I leave Saturday afternoon for a 5-day trip. Apart from my audition at the Royal Academy, I'll be auditioning for the residencies at the Aix-en-Provence festival and hopefully having a voice lesson, if I can get the scheduling to work out. Some cultural highlights? Well, a staged Messiah at the ENO; the LSO doing a concert performance of Otello; Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park; an Auerbach exhibit at the Courtald Gallery; all kinds of curry on Brick Lane; and let's not forget that Britain's museums and galleries are FREE.
I am also pleased to be able to meet up with some good friends from UWO and one I made earlier on my sojourn here, at an audition. I'll be staying with an old friend from a summer program; how wonderful that I can rely on the people I have met over the years. They are still accessible thanks to things like Facebook.

Let's face it -- Facebook and other networking sites have brought global communication to a new level. I am finding Facebook an extremely useful tool, and it's actually enhancing my experience by allowing me to share my experiences in practically real time with people at home, keep in touch with friends I meet in passing on my travels and keep track of where everyone is. I am currently considering an extended trip through Germany, Switzerland and maybe France and for sure the south of Italy; as I look at the possibilities I realize how many people I actually know here and how many couches I could potentially surf, and how many people I have connected with briefly that I may have never seen again, but now have the chance to develop relationships with. I would hope to be able to offer the same hospitality to them and to others when I am settled into a place.

There are networks such as couchsurfing.org that are set up specifically for connection-hungry people. The main function is to set up adventurous spirits on the move with couches to crash on, complete with a host, where there is ideally some level of mutual interest and a potential friendship that could develop, or just a few days of excellent company and hopefully some stuff learned; there is also an option of meeting someone in your own city, or the city you happen to be in, for coffee or a drink, to do a language exchange or discuss your mutual passion for yoga, or pork dishes, or whatever, or show each other around to your favourite restaurants and art galleries.. the list goes on, but the interesting thing here is that we don't just have sites for keeping in touch anymore, we have sites for facilitating meetings with new people as well. Look at internet dating -- still has a huge stigma attached, but lots of people are taking advantage and quite happy with their results. These sites simply widen our pool of possibilities. It is such a paradox that in a world of infinite possibilities we are increasingly limited by our daily activity: commute, work at computer, send text messages, interact via IPhone, watch Tivo. Life is easier every day, but more solitary.

It won't be long now before I leave Milano. A few trips planned -- two to London and a hiking weekend in Cinque Terre -- and then a week in Florence and Rome with my mom, and a short week after that, I move out. I'll miss it, but it's time, I think.
It's been difficult for me to make friends here. I am hoping that a little couch surfing with friends and couchsurfing with fellow couchsurfers will enrich my final month here in Europe. I am still waiting on audition dates but once they start to come in, the month will take shape.

In the meantime...

Monday, Monday..

The sun is back out in Milano and it's time for another packed week. I'm getting ready for auditions in London, and taking in some top-notch music here in the city. This week is a Schubert recital by Matthias Goerne and possibly some symphonic music and a piano recital tonight; we'll see what we can fit in! Things at La Scala have quieted down, but let me review the happenings thus far.

The 2008/2009 season is officially over, having closed with a plaster-me-to-the-wall performance of Verdi's Requiem, as I said, with Jonas Kaufmann, Barbara Frittoli, Sonia Gassani, and Rene Pape, and Daniel Barenboim conducting (from memory. yeah.. yeah.. I know). And what a way to end it! I feel very lucky to have witnessed the tail end of the season here, as the artistry has been of very high calibre, and I've gotten to see some very big names on the stage and on the podium.

Some of the highlights I've spoken about already; Diana Damrau gave a solo recital with harp early in September, and Olga Borodina graced the stage with a fabulous pianist and they gave a very cohesive, sensitive programme of Russian art song. Both divas really brought it, and it's obvious why they were asked to perform solo recitals: Milano loves them. They each did 4 or 5 encores and we would have definitely stayed for more.

Let's not forget the fantastic performance given by Pollini and Boulez or the programme of Russian symphonic music with Pappano on the podium. This concert was fantastic! A young cellist by the name of Han-Na Chang played Shostakovich's 1st concerto with great panache. Out came this little, self-effacing china doll in a beautiful floor-sweeping emerald evening gown. She was delicate and gracious, and forced everyone on stage to bow before she would even acknowledge the audience's applause. Then she sat down and proceeded to saw away at her cello with more force and power, and CHOPS, than you would have ever expected this delicate little thing to possess! I remember the first time I heard this concerto -- it was Thomas Wiebe. I have to say she gave him a run for his money. She was fantastic -- and at the end, she stood up and became the sweet little thing she was before, embarrassed by all the attention. It was like a musical beast took her over for the duration of her performance! The orchestra went on to play Rachmaninoff's second symphony and absolutely brought the house down. The only thing that ruined it for me was the questionably perfumed man beside me following the score, and turning the pages as noisily as possible. But that was only a little blip on the radar.
Finally, Emanuele Arciuli gave that performance of solo piano music that I spoke about earlier this month. It was part of a festival to commemmorate Toru Takemitsu (there is a very strong rapport between the cultural ministries of Milano and Japan, and this year there has been a good deal of cultural exchange. There are some art exhibits I will speak about). He played a great variety of new and well-loved music, and it was nice to hear a solo piano recital in a hall as acoustically friendly as La Scala.

It really is a great hall. It is circular and not that big; the ceiling has a slight dome. In the second gallery, the topmost seats, you are not any farther from the stage than the back of the orchestra, because the seats are stacked vertically with no backwards graduation, in classic opera-house style. I have posted some pictures in a previous post. My friend Dan said that the sound in the hall was as close as he has ever heard to recording quality, and I think he's right: the acoustic provides a very intimate experience of the sound, as if it were right by your ear, or in your headphones. I must say the Verdi Requiem was a very intense piece of music to experience in this manner! It sounded like the singers were sitting all around me. Their consonants reverberated with extreme force.

The first opera I saw here was Orfeo, which did not thrill me; the design was provocative but the music itself fair to middling. There were not too many voices that excited me, save Orfeo himself, and even then the voice was interesting and not beautiful; however, the futuristic angular costuming and the blackface really got my attention.

Next up was Idomeneo, with Patrizia Ciofi as Ilia, someone I think is overlooked in the wider opera comunity. She is well-loved in Italy, and works often at La Scala; she is a consummate artist, with a beautiful, warm lyric voice, great acting chops, and she's hot. She does Mozart with a great deal of finesse. Her Susanna on the Concerto Cologne recording of Nozze di Figaro with Rene Jacobs is fantastic. I first got to know her through her Giulietta in this production of I Capuletti ed i Montecchi. Blew me away!!!
The production itself was a revival, I think; they have done Idomeneo here on a few occasions, notably in 2005 after the departure of Muti for the inauguration of the season.

The inauguration of the season is a huge deal in Milan; it happens every year on December 7, a Milanese holiday to commemmorate the city's patron saint, Sant'Ambrogio. The crème de la crème turns up in full evening wear and everyone schmoozes. THe production is usually a big deal with tons of famous people. This year, it's Carmen with Jonas Kaufmann as Don José and our VERY OWN Michèle Losier as Frasquita!!!!! How exciting is that!

Though I'll be gone before Joyce di Donato comes to play Rosina in Barber of Seville, I've still been able to see -- and will be able to see -- a good deal of the highlights from this season. How wonderful to spend time in a city with an opera house the calibre of La Scala! I am spoiled, especially since next week I'll be in London -- I'll be able to see Turandot and a staged Messiah at the ENO, and Der Rosenkavalier at the Royal Opera. Nothing beats a few months in Europe for your opera education!

Since it's Saturday, and noone should have to think too hard on the weekends -- and I've been doing a lot of thinking lately -- I thought I'd make you a silly post to divert you and me as well.

Last night I passed giant purple snails in Piazza della Scala. As I can never turn down a photo op with a ridiculously oversized creature I naturally stopped and enlisted some hapless tourist to take me a picture; it didn't turn out so well, but you can see the snails very clearly documented in my Picasa album, linked on the right.

It got me thinking... when have I EVER turned down a photo op with a ridiculously oversized creature, silly statue, nice statue, cardboard cutout ... I had a nice trip down memory lane, and without further ado, the result I give to you now: the Many Blasphemies committed unto Serious Art by Danielle, or, Danielle with snails and other stuff.



Edmonton, AB




Chicago, Illinois... to be fair, Olivia was helping with this one.




Winter Park, Florida




Toronto, ON




Milano, Italy




Milano, Italy

Libera me domine di morte aeterna

I have had a busy few weeks here in Milano, balancing teaching and singing, trying to maintain a social life and still get out and sightsee a bit; it's oput a bit of a strain on me, even though I am no busier than I would have been in Toronto; in fact, I am probably the least busy I have been since grade nine. Anyway, this sudden activity has helped me come to a few important realizations. Sometimes pressure can force perspective, can't it?

1. Even if I turn 35 or 40 and still am nowhere near a career, or got rejected by every single company and school I ever auditioned for, or got nodes and couldn't sing, or was the victim of some terrible accident in which my larynx was damaged and I lost my voice forever and completely, I still cannot imagine being so sad or so embittered not to find it in me to love music and especially vocal music. Yes, I am a diehard opera lover, a buff, a theatre rat; I collect paraphernelia, I internet-stalk my favourite singers, I hang out at the stage door, I am a compulsive opera youtuber. Guilty as charged.
I think this is helping me come to a more general realization, however, or more specifically, a definition: "passion" needs to encompass even the inability to participate fully in the object of the passion, and is also characterized by a lack of fear of the possibility that this may happen. I have described my passion for opera as such. Many people say they would still love their spouse if he or she cheated, or was paralyzed in a car accident, or had a strange personality disorder. Passion is a til-death-do-us-part thing; this is the type of passion you need, I think, for a career as a performer, and I am starting to realize the magnitude and reality of this. Musicians, ask yourselves: Would I still read Classical Music and listen to the BBC and go to the concert hall and the opera house and genuinely be happy for my colleagues' successes and clap happily and enjoy the music if the ability to play my instrument was taken away from me forever?

2. Practice is for real. Practice does make perfect. My teachers were not kidding. The only route to improvement and success is hard work. If there is no reason you shouldn't be able to sing a cadenza, but it's just not sitting right, it's not that it doesn't "fit your voice". You just haven't sung it enough times yet. Maybe 287 is the magic number. You don't know until you've reached 288. It may take weeks; that is not unheard of. I am a hard worker, but I think I finally get exactly how hard I need to work to make one miniscule improvement. There is no shortcut.

I've been doing some thinking as a result of these realizations, and concluded that in light of them, I need to make some changes. For the past little while, I haven't been acting like an opera singer who teaches English to make money, I've been an English teacher who also sings. That's fine, because it taught me exactly how I feel at this point in my life about the prospect of another career path. I am sure you can guess how that is. It is within my control and my control only how much or how little I sing -- and this is the biggest realization of all: I could get rejected from every single organization I ever applied to, and still sing two or three hours a day if I wanted. I shouldn't need a reason to practice or to make music. The motivation needs to come from within; this is not something you can make into a goal-oriented thing.


I saw Verdi's Requiem tonight at La Scala, with Daniel Barenboim on the podium (with no score) and Barbara Frittoli, Sonja Gassani, Jonas Kaufmann, and Rene Pape. I was lucky enough to have an incredible first-row seat in the upper galleries, where the sound is incredible; the ceiling is slightly domed, and the hall is circular, so from where I was, it sounded like the singers were all around me. It was a very moving concert.
I went to the stage door and got autographs after, and spoke with Jonas Kaufmann and another young tenor about singing, and thought about how I would like to become as successful as he is, so I can share my experiences with young singers who feel as messed up and unsuccessful as I sometimes feel right now. I'd like to be able to tell them that it IS possible; I think that I want this because I myself would like to know that it is possible. And funnily enough, these types of thoughts always circle and come to rest on me, because it is I who decides whether it happens or not. I control whether or not I am successful as a singer. It does no good at all to think, "I can work harder than anyone else out there and STILL never get a lucky break", because those are fatalistic thoughts; better is, "I can work harder than anyone else out there, and it will pay off".

Artists, my friends, we are accountable to ourselves. We need to continually ask ourselves why we do what we do, and how we plan on going about doing that; we need to take responsibility for our own lapses and also our own successes. And we need to be our own best guy in the corner. And with that said, I have some adjustments to make.

Things that currently annoy me

1. Screaming children. This is nothing new, but it has become a more persistent problem with the onset of flu season and the children I live with becoming ill.

2. Racism. I was privy to a confrontation on the subway platform between a black man and an Italian man, who was screaming at him and the whole subway platform, "YOU DON'T BELONG HERE! GO TO YOUR COUNTRY! GO TO AFRICA! YOU ARE AN EXTRACOMUNITARIO!!!"
An extracomunitario is basically a foreigner without papers; these days, with an active government campaign to get all the foreigners legal, it's considered a pretty rough insult.
Also, Africa is not a country.
What brought this on? Nothing, but noone stopped him. Noone except the girlfriend of the guy being yelled at. I wouldn't dare step up -- my Italian isn't rough enough to join a verbal battle -- but the Italians in the subway just laughed and made fun of the black man's accent. What the hell kind of country is this?

3. Sidewalk etiquette, or lack thereof. There are really really small sidewalks here, and a fun game to play is to guess who the foreigners are -- you can pick them out because they are the ones weaving in and out, dodging old ladies' shopping carts, and looking annoyed at how damn slow everyone is moving. Sometimes, I can saunter along with the best of 'em, but not when I am late for work... and not when I am behind two nonne having their afternoon stroll, stopping to gesticulate relatively wildly every two or three miniscule steps -- it's like the fear of God. You just don't challenge the nonnas. You also don't see people walking on the right side of the sidewalk -- I mean, that's crazy, right.
Sidewalk etiquette also encompasses umbrella etiquette. It rains so much here that everyone carries one on a grey day.
Because Italians like rules (so that they can disregard them) I offer the following as Umbrella Etiquette.
1. Umbrellas of the curved-handle variety may be carried in the hand if the carrier adheres to the following: the umbrella is carried vertically, is not swung wildly with each step, is not used as a cane, does not impede traffic flow on the sidewalks by sticking out at various angles.
2. Open umbrellas may be carried only above the head. Half-open umbrellas, for example a half-retracted umbrella carried in the hand at knee height and dripping wet, is inadmissible.
3. Umbrellas must be lifted above the head of the person passing the carrier on the sidewalk, especially if this person is umbrellaless. If both are carrying an umbrella, the taller person must yield. Avoid dripping onto the person's shoulder.
4. Umbrellas purchased in the subway must not exceed 4 euro even when it is raining cats and dogs.

With the rain come the umbrella vendors, like worms, crawling out to profit in their way from the rainfall. On Sunday my umbrella broke and I was a bit desperate; I talked one vendor down from 8 euro to 4. Just because it's raining, your umbrella doubles in value? He did look pretty devastated to be selling me the umbrella for 4 euro, though - it's a rather nice one, with a curved handle and a huge circumference, and I'm pretty sure it's been treated with something becuase it is impermeability itself. I am happy with my purchase.

4. University application fees. Why are these so high? Why do they get higher with each dehree level? Does it take more brainpower to process my transcript, reference letters and contact info than it does to process Joe Undergrad's transcript, reference letters and contact info?

5. The fact that just about everyone I know chose the year I moved away to move to Toronto. It's like they were just waiting for me to leave...

And I thought it was a pretty normal birthday...

It started out like any other day, although I did sleep in. It rained; I taught, had a coffee and read a book; went to the Museum of Natural History on my weekly museum date (it's a great museum, actually, and they had some great Canada exhibits that made me homesick); and relaxed at home for a bit. Then, my expat friend Daniel and his girlfriend Kirsten took me out for dinner.

We went to a Sri Lankan restaurant near the downtown part of Milan. I can't tell you how happy I was to eat pappadum and curry after weeks and weeks of doughy pizza, plates of pasta, and my own cooking which has become variations on a theme: some sort of stew with tomatoes and beans over rice or some other grain because that is all I find palateable-- the selection, especially of vegetables, in the grocery stores is sadly limited.

THe interior was warm, wood-panelled and painted in reds and mustard yellow, and decorated with statues of the Hindu gods. Everyone on staff was south Indian or Sri Lankan and the clientele was mixed; for a few hours, I forgot we were in Italy. We could have been anywhere, really. I have been in similar restaurants in London, the other London, Toronto, Montreal.

The food was good -- not the best Indian I have ever had but I think that's the fault of the ingredients and not the chef. We shared 4 types of vegetable curry -- a dahl (slightly too salty, not enough garam masala or maybe none); a raita (would have been good if the other food was spicy; raita is a cold vegetable dish made with minted yogurt); and a potato curry and a coconut curry. I wished for more spice in everything, but it was such a welcome change from the usual tomato and cheese, salt and oil flavours that it was perfect as it was.

About halfway through the meal we heard the sound of a drum and in came a very graceful young Sri Lankan boy who performed a truly beautiful traditional dance, in what I assume to be traditional costume. A little later he returned with a partner, a girl, and they did two other dances throughout the course of the meal. We were the most enthusiastic viewers by far; the dances seemed to have such clear stories and we were dying to know what they were. The movements were a corss between traditional Indian dance, which you may know from many pop culture outlets, and Chinese traditional dance, with the stiff yet gracefully curved back and neck and careful head movements.

And you can't say you've had a birthday til you've had your birthday dessert heralded by a cowbell and brought to you with the lights dimmed, the whole restuarant clapping rhythmically until you blow out the candle. Not a cake but a delicious assortment of Sri Lankan sweets, it was perfect, and I liked the perfectly browned macaroon best.

Now I can say I rang out my first quarter century... really. More cowbell, please!

and the seventh day...

... we rested.

Welcome to Eco Sabbath! Colin Beavan's year-long experiment has been condensed into one week, and on this seventh day, we have phased out everything he phased out and are experiencing life as he did over the period of several months. Today we're asked not to plug anything in, not to go anywhere or do anything -- have a true rest from the stuff that seems to make the world go round and really experience life au naturel.

I did go out today; for me, spending time with friends or family here means going out to see them. I went to the church I found here, an English-speaking congregation; this morning it was a mass with all three parishes that celebrate in that church: the English, Italian and Filipino communities. It was pretty crowded and it was nice to be among people. I wandered through the procession happening downtown in honor of the beatification of Don Carlo Gnocchi (I have no idea why he became a saint but he was obviously a big deal), picked up an empanada in the Peruvian market crammed into an alley beside another big church downtown, San Stefano, and wandered home, where I had a much-needed nap. I consider that a fairly low-impact activity... happy eco sabbath to you, too.

Some reflections on the week are in order. I learned that while superficially, my big problem appears to be food packaging like every Italian, the hidden problem of energy and water over-consumption are much more pronounced, and this is probably true of all of us. It is really hard to gauge the amount of energy and water you use individually, but it's worth trying to track for a week if only to become cognizant of your consumption. It also made me think: If I reduce my trash, buy locally, buy unpackaged foods, take the stairs, etc etc etc etc etc, and then take a 15-minute shower, did I just undo everything I tried to accomplish? Some things measure higher on the footprint scale. Is it that easy to undo your good intentions? We need priorities.
Mor ethan a week of experimentation this felt like a week of becoming conscious. I learned so much this week due to my research and to the people I met in my forums; I am really glad I was inspired to do the reading and researching that I did. I feel a lot more in control of my actions now that I've quantified them and evaluated them against a standard (the organizers put otu a guide for the week); I also feel like I can make better choices now, being equipped with the information and resources i need to follow through.
There's nothing wrong with taking the stairs, hopping on the bus, choosing not to buy when you don't have to, carrying a hanky, handwashing your clothes. Most of these things I do already.
I am excited to buy bananas again, and eat food that came in bags (granola, here I come!), and super excited to go out for a drink this week! Some things you just don't want to live without.
And with all that said, I am going to turn off my computer and sing some music. It's nice to have a no-impact passion.
Good night!

I took action.

Today marked my first and only attempt at environmental activism.

I heard about a march in Milano in honor of 350 Day, which is basically to get world leaders to talk about climate change in Copenhagen at the summit. (350 refers to the parts per million of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere that is considered liveable for Earth; we are at 385 right now.)
I showed up in Piazza de' Mercanti to find that there was another demonstration happening as well; some people were handing out flyers and denouncing Berlusconi in the name of freedom of speech and of the press. Can you believe that in a so-called democracy, such a thing occurs? Maybe it's just the Canadian in me whose sensibilities are offended. I know that people live differently the world over, but Italy is a developed, European nation with a democratic government in place; yes it's a rightist government, but its people should still be able to express their opinions of said government. No?
Anyway, I saw a mass of bicycles behind them, all with people atop them sporting cloth signs saying "NO" to various things related to oil and greenhouse gases, and they all seemed to know each other. Needless to say, the activist community in Italy is small but mighty. I went up to a girl handing out cloth banner thingies and asked if there were people walking.
Girl: No. We're all riding our bikes. But there's a march on foot at Parco Sempione in a n hour.
Me: Oh. Thanks.
So, it woul dhave been really nice if the website told me where to go for which event. I saw them off, then wandered around downtown for a while before going to the pool and then coming home to sign up for an internet chat room as a volunteer ESL teacher. It's based in Afghanistan, which is only a three-hour time difference from Italy, and I'll be chatting with Afghan women in various stages of education and emancipation and providing ESL support, international perspective, and maybe just a friendly presence on sort of a part-time basis.
It's something I've been meaning to do, and I'm comfortable putting my efforts towards this type of cause. I've never been the type to get in your face with a megaphone about any cause; I am also a terrible fundraiser. I just don't like to make my personal opinions the immediate problem of anyone else, as I don't like it happening to me, even if I happen to agree. When my help is asked for, it's a different story. When I feel my efforts actually make a tangible difference to someone else, also a different story.
Though I didn't actually participate in 350 day, I am still impressed by the website today. Many photos and videos from all over the world have been uploaded and it's heartwarming to see the variety of events, settings, nationalities and languages represented. It makes me want an elementary school class of my very own for one split second because that's the type of group that's really interested in this type of activism. The feeling passes quickly, though.

Tomorrow is an Eco-Sabbath... we also turn our clocks back tonight. Good bye, dinners in the waning light of day!

TGIF!

Well, I made it this far -- Now I HAVE to see it through!

That was my motivation today to do... well, anything really. It was another grey and dreary day, and I woke up feeling like I hadn't slept at all, which is a really awful feeling when you've slept 6 or 7 hours. Or, you thought you did.

Today was water day. We were to do everything in our power to consume as little water as possible. Did I? What do you think?

Instead, I decided to do as much as I usually do -- that is, quite a bit -- and observe where in my life I create the need for water usage indirectly, and where I can cut down or eliminate water usage.
I worked this morning and needed a hot shower to wake up. I take fast ones, but let's face it -- we could all probably take shorter, colder showers and still live to tell the tale.
I forwent the pool, which is a HUGE water-sucker. However, I don't think I'm prepared to give up swimming as my main outlet for fitness. Gyms and other public fitness locations are probably enormous sources of energy and water consumption; is there a real solution to this?
Going to a restaurant, or even just a coffee bar for a quick espresso, can generate a lot of water consumption. Think of how much water is used to cook your food and clean your plates. The amount of water used in the cleaning of my espresso cup, making of my coffee, and cleaning following the making is decidedly out of proportion to the amount of water used in the actual coffee. Perhaps it is better to have your coffee at home. I turned down a lot of social invites this week because I would either have to take a taxi home or they were out at restaurants. It was hard to do, that's for sure, and unless you and all your closest friends have made a green-living pact, it's impossible to keep up, in my opinion. The more bold among us would be pesky and push establishments that had made certain green adjustments in their energy usage or food choices, but I am definitely not a greenvangelist.
I did do my laundry today. In the end, I did the great majority by hand in the bidet (which is really the best use for it I can think of.... if you really feel the need to use the bidet for its official purpose, just bite the bullet and hop in the shower... though I am sure the tree huggers will argue me on that one). But I took one look at my jeans and bath towels, thought about squeezing them out by hand, and set the washing machine to cold and energy efficient. Sometimes you just CAN'T break the habit. We are spoiled! The washerwomen of yore must have been Amazons -- it's more work than I can imagine doing. And they'd never dry! I'm curious -- has anyone here ever grapestomped an entire load of clothes?

Tomorrow is Giving Back day. It's almost the end of this experiment. I wonder how many of the changes I made will stick.

Addendum to the last post: I forgot to mention that the article directly before Dump Berlusconi was written by a British guy and entitled, "In defense of Berlusconi". (I still don't buy it.) Gotta have that devil's advocate!

When I woke up today, it was still raining. Rain has a discernible effect on my well-being. It produces that sluggish, bluesy feeling we all experience when it's cold and damp out; I also become quite stiff and sore and decidedly self-indulgent. (Admittedly, since I've made certain changes in my diet and begun natural supplements things have improved but that doesn't mean I've kicked the self-coddling.) Needless to say, today was not a day I felt particularly strongly about my little experiment. In fact, at times I resented it and consciously performed actions that were contrary to my aims (example: I am eating spelt cookies from a non-reusable bag right now), just because I COULD. It really threw into relief just how much of a commitment a no-impact, or low-impact, lifestyle is, just like any other lifestyle commitment: a specific diet, quitting smoking, trying not to phone that bastard who stood you up on Friday but totally apologized and after all is really cute (this didn't happen). At times you couldn't care more and willingly devote all of your most positive energy to your cause, feeding off of your own success; other times you just say, "screw it", and reach for the spelt cookies. I can be an indulgent person; I guess my own personal challenge has to do with reducing the amount of times I cave, and furthermore, setting realistic goals.

Today is energy day. Instead of trying to use less energy, since that clearly wasn't going to happen, I decided to do some research on the devices I used and how much energy they really account for.
I wasn't able to find a lot of really concrete figures. But environmental blogs the world wide web over agree that using your microwave oven, especially for short periods of cooking or for small portions really does save a ton of energy once you do the math. My Chinese doctor cousin David would be having a conniption but you know what? Most of us use it anyway, and in exactly that manner; good to know it gets a green thumbs up.
The bulbs we have here are all energy-efficient. If you have not changed your bulbs to CFL's, I suggest you do so. Today, preferably.
Something I may never be able to renounce is a hot shower in the morning. I researched ways to reduce your hot water usage: installing low-flow showerheads and faucets, fixing leaks, and using the energy-efficient cycles on your dishwasher and washing machine topped every list. There is also something called On-Demand hot water, which is basically a tankless system: water is heated as required. The only downside is that you might let it run for a while before it warms up sufficiently, so I'm not sure how much you really conserve with this method. You can also just set your washer to "cold"; the clothes still get clean.
If only I had known! The Green Beanery in Toronto has a novel little gadget that makes espresso without any electricity -- it's lever operated. You still have to boil the water, though.
I could go on and on-- generally, if you are interested in lowering your energy impact through absolutely any small obscure detail of your life, there is a way. It was a useful thing to discover, and anyone can -- I amno Google master but I found a wealth of information.

Needless to say I didn't grape-stomp my clothes...

All Hail Newsweek

This article turned a few heads on the subway, as its headline was plastered across the cover of my international edition today. DUMP BERLUSCONI is pretty unequivocal even to your average non-English speaking Italian.

Il Cavaliere has just been hit with two really major court rulings, which in itself is a first. THis is, after all, the guy who rewrites laws to suit his own ends. He was ordered to pay damages as he is partially responsible for a corruption case invovled ina judge in the 90's. The second, and in my opinion more important, ruling is that the law that makes him immune from criminal prosecution as the prime minister (guess who wrote that one) has been declared unconstitutional, and rightfully so.
This author lays out the reasons for Berlusconi's early popularity (his policies in the 90's, when he first came into power, lined up really neatly with the general Italian sentiment following the "mani pulite" debaucle in which the political heavyweights were unseated on corruption charges -- he was anti-politics and against taxes), and why it just doens't work in the long run ("If he were the father of his country, he'd be feeding his children pure sugar"). He outlines Italy's current problems -- aging population, labour force dwindling (and would-be labourers from abroad are treated with hostility), economy struggling, education an embarrassment, and the prime minister is doing very little about anything except his own interests.

The truth of the matter is that there are and have been and will be terrible world leaders who behave badly or who run their countries in a questionable manner. Berlusconi is not only doing this but also driving Italy's dignity into the ground. Not too many world leaders want to sit at the table with the guy who cracks jokes about Obama's suntan, who pays for hookers for his distinguished guests, and puts his neighbour in Sardegna into Parliament to settle a personal dispute over the use of their shared land.

The problem? It's an English-language magazine. Berlusconi himself controls the TV that most Italians watch and he controls the major avenues of the press, as well. Journalists who write against them have lost their jobs. He files against those outlets not in his control regularly. We are the only ones hearing this kind of news, and we are not the people who need to hear it -- voting Italians do. But they have accepted him and the censureship that comes with him, or so it may seem.

Even so, liberal Italians have hope. The family I live with is very very leftist and they say often that the country will turn around when Berlusconi dies and another takes his place. But I personally don't think much will change.



The same issue ran an article on why Obama shouldn't have won the Nobel Peace Prize and why the Nobel Peace Prize is a big sham anyhow so it doesn't matter. It drops a few too many names but certainly outlines a strong opinion.

My school subscribes to Newsweek and though I think it's beyond most of the students' level, it's certainly nice for me to have some reading material that also keeps me up to date. Italian press is a bit skewed, due to the fact that Il Cavaliere owns it all, so sometimes I feel like I don't know what to believe. I can't imagine a world in which Berlusconi's news was my only news but that is the case for a good portion of Italians, and the scary thing is, they don't mind.

Hump Day.

Well, if I didn't cave today, I won't cave.

Today it rained. In fact, it's still raining. When it rains here it doesn't just kind of lightly sprinkle periodically, it barfs water for hours. Luckily this does not happen as often as the Milanesi would have you believe.

However it also means I just don't want to do ANYTHING. Rain is terrible like that; it takes away your will to live. I totally meant to go to the pool but didn't make it out of the house til almost 12 (though I did make soup); then the nine flights of stairs up to my English lesson nearly did me in. I was so close to taking the elevator -- it's almost automatic when you know you have to go up 9 flights. My own seven flights seemed like peanuts, on the positive side.

Another positive was that I ate my homemade yogurt this morning and nearly died because it is SO GOOD. Everyone should do this at least once. You will never go back to storebought, I swear.
And that brings me to today's topic of discussion: food. Today we had to renounce all packaged food and consume only local products.
Because life is so hard, I limited myself to things that come in reusable packages (glass, durable plastic), and only ate things from Italy. I don't think i would have eaten too much otherwise. EVERYTHING comes in a package here; at some stores, you can't pick your own fruit from the bin and must bring it home on a styrofoam tray -- even stuff like bananas (which come from Ecuador, so I can't bring thos ehome anyway). I would really like to be buying my grains and beans in bulk, and I think I have found a store at which I can do this; loose-leaf tea made from things harvested in Italy, however, or coffee, is an entirely different matter and I am not too sure I am at the point where I give up caffeinated things because they don't grow here. Individually wrapped cafeinated things -- I can probably handle that.

In short, this is definitely the hardest day, and I can't say I fully succeeded. In fact, I am not sure I ever will, since some things I don't feel I want to do without (bananas and caffeinated beverages aside -- avocado, spices like curry...) Also, I struggle with the packaging thing. There are only so many plastic bottles you want to keep around, or so many glass jars you can wash out and hang on to. The key is finding sources at which you can refill them with whatever it is-- milk, beer, wine for example -- and that can be hard in the city. Maybe this will be the start of breaking my Nutella habit??!

Tomorrow should be really interesting. I am grape-stomping my clothes in the bathtub in honor of "use as little energy as possible" day! I may or may not blog -- I am using my laptop on battery until it dies, then charging it only when I am using it so that whenever it is plugged in, it's also being used, ad when it is off, it is always unplugged. If I have juice at the end of the day, you'll hear about it -- if not, stay tuned for Friday...

Tuesday Chapter Two

Sometimes, you just don't want to walk up the stairs.
Like when it's 11.30, you're tired and have to pee, haven't really had dinner, and there are seven flights of them.
You'll all be proud to know I did it! I used my feet for the entire day, and when I needed to get somewhere fast (work), I jumped on the subway.
For this week, that's fine. But I think I wouldn't choose this particular issue to be militant about. Sometimes, it's OK to take the elevator, you know? But I stand firm on gas-guzzlers.

I saw a concert tonight -- a great little Baroque orchestra that reminded me a lot of Tafel -- the 5 euro ticket reminded me of them too -- and 3 singers, performing the two cantatas that Handel wrote in Italian. It was a long concert, about 2.5 hours, but it was really well-played. It took place in the Conservatory's massive Verdi Hall, which puts VKH and Walter Hall to shame, but not Roy Thomson -- it is acoustically excellent but a bit less comfortable than RTH, and smaller, of course. It might seat about 700. It's actually a really nice hall and I have enjoyed everything I've seen there, as the sound is always great and I am always able to find a seat with an excellent view.
Anyway, the three singers -- it was interesting to hear some very dark voices singing repertoire that we normally relegate in our singer-brains to light voices without the power to cut a bigger orchestra. Well, these voices were dark, but definitely rough around the edges and though they were all excellent artists, there were some technical problems with each of them. Isn't it funny? If you can't sing opera, sing Baroque. What a shame, that this mindset/stigma/whatever exists, however subconsciously, in singers' minds. I think this is especially true in Italy, where large, rich voices are prized.
Though the concert ran long, I enjoyed it. It was conducted from the clavicembalo and the violinists and winds stood; I think the energy this brings makes for a more intimate, engaging performance for the audience, not to mention the performers.
If you don't know Tafelmusik, you should... take a second and check them out.

Anyway, I want to tell you something else. Before this concert, I had to teach my class from hell.
Colin Beavan maintains that living no-impact makes you a happier person. Is it possible that this can rub off on other people? My class from hell was not the same class today. I couldn't believe the difference -- they acted like humans, sat still, listened, spoke English, answered questions, and did their homework. Was it because I came in with more positive energy? Maybe it was because we finally had our textbooks -- kids like structure, and they feel like they're in class with a book in front of them. I'd like to think it was the former, though.

Some things just take time, I guess.

So far, this has been a week of victories, and I am glad I can say that after being turned down for the masterclass. Everything bad can be made good; everything old, new; everything used, re-used. This is the lesson!

Oh, and I did it -- I carried my snot around today and it wasn't half bad.

Here I am in the kitchen, working on battery power, making yogurt after lugging the milk and fruit I bought up seven flights of stairs. So far, so good!

I feel amazing right now, actually. It's surprisingly empowering to reuse plastic vegetable bags and to buy only produce grown in Italy (today there is no market -- on Thursday I can re-stock with 0 km food). It seems silly. But I am beginning to see that once you have built your personal infrastructure it is easier and easier to subsist on what you already have.
I'd still like to find a solution to the problem of non 0-km ingredients for the food you make at home. As well, ingredients still come packaged, though you can buy them in larger quantities (huge bags of flour for example, versus a small bag of bread. I still haven't found milk in anything bigger than 1 L plastic bottle; maybe there is a way to get your milk containers refilled but not in the city, that's for sure. I' using old plastic bottles for water.)

Today is the day we "green" our commute. That means, for me, cutting out any automated mobility devices -- no escalators, moving sidewalks, or escalators except where stairs do not exist. It also means going home on the last subway, always, to avoid having to use cabs, and carpooling when it is socially awkward to refuse a ride somewhere. Since I don't drive here, it's relatively easy to rpomise myself to walk or take the bus; it also means that today I'm considering the possibility of never owning a car, just to think about it and what it would mean for me.

Did you take the bus today? Sometimes life is hard when you can't just drive to where you need to be. Cities are so big, and here they have the added obstacle of many spread-out villages with a city as their common centre for commercialism and industry, with many mountain roads and no train or bus infrastructure. At home, things are just so far away that sometimes it isn't practical. It's definitely something that needs to change here in Italy, though; I'm glad to see many smaller cars and hybrids, but there are still too many. There is also something called Eco-Pass, which is basically a zone of the city encompassing the downtown area where you cannot take your car unless you pass an emissions test. Milanesi say it hasn't changed much, though. In Florence you can't even drive downtown! But Milan is much bigger.

Stay tuned for more flights of stairs and how the yogurt turns out... right now it's busy multiplying on the hot-water heater...

Here I am, back in Milano after an unsuccessful attempt at La Freni's masterclass, and no, I don't want to talk about it. It wasn't a very pleasant experience, but I did learn a lot. I think I will probably do a post soon about singing teachers here and at home, and some of the observations I have made til this point.

What I want to tell you about today is my garbage can.

Yesterday I collected all of my garbage in a bag so that I could analyze it today. What was very clear to me was that the changes I need to make are few but significant.
Here are the contents of my trash bag from yesterday, admittedly an abnormal day but nonetheless --
- paper napkins and paper towels
- receipts
- an orange peel
- two yogurt cups and foil lids
- food packaging, paper and plastic
- an apple core

On the Italy group in our forum, the results showed an overwhelming amount of food packaging and that is seriously no surprise to any of us. How to avoid this? Well, you try your best but it is nearly impossible. By asking around I have learned of a bulk food store. As well, I try to buy products in one layer of packaging only, or in reusable packaging: resealable containers or bags, glass bottles, durable plastic if necessary.

At home, we separate our food garbage so I never had to think about composting. Here, I am thinking about putting a bin on the verandah or asking for a corner of the garden in the courtyard. I think it would be better to compost though, so that the family I live with could participate too.

As for paper products I have begin carrying a tea towel for hand drying and napkin usage; as for a hanky I have yet to get one and get comfortable with the idea of carrying my snot.

I started a box of scrap paper today. As a teacher I kill at least one tree a day; the least I can do is milk that tree for all it's worth. Into the box went the receipts and the train tickets.

Look! I can make my own yogurt! So can you! Kefir is easy to make too; you can purchase the starter at any health food store and then just buy milk as you need.
(Milk here comes in small cardboard containers that are not really like Tetra paks but they call them that anyway. I have yet to see milk in glass containers.)

What other ways can we reduce trash, besides reusing packaging, composting, making things instead of buying them packaged, and recycling? Any more creative ideas out there?
Maybe the freegans have some. Wow -- I am not so sure about my thoughts on humanure. Wikipedia was definitely on the right track by linking this article with "radical environmentalism".
Thoughts?

Lastly, I wanted to share the climatecounts.org pocket.sized company profile with you. It's right here so have a look and see if you're surprised at all.

Well, happy Monday! From now on, we are trying to be trashless, people!

Tomorrow we green our commutes. I am walking to work and the pool and taking the stairs everywhere I go, even at home where there are seven flights!

Day One

Today is "Stop Buying New Stuff" day.

I thought a lot yesterday and today about what's hard to give up buying and what I already don't want or need.

Consumerism has ruined us - as Colin Beavan puts it, this "keeping up with the Joneses" business. Even though I know the only reason I want any of that stuff in the store windows is because I've been conditioned to think I need it, and deep down I DON'T want it, I still struggle daily with the urge to buy.

I have always been uncomfortable buying things secondhand (except books). It's a weird trust thing -- I know for sure if the item is brand-new that I can trust its cleanliness, its ability to work and its durability (insofar as it is durable). It's something I have to get over, and maybe some fun evenings swapping clothes and other belongings -- CD's, magazines, books for those of us who don't live in second-hand bookshops like I do -- will break the ice.

Some things you just have to buy new, though. I draw the line at underwear. I've also got terrible feet and have to buy shoes new, or else I pay with days spent horizontal. In that kind of a case, what do you do? I guess you make sure your shoes go to a good home once you're done with them and suck up the one or maybe two things in your life you just need to buy.

I had to make a list of all the things that I "need" to buy this week, and figure out which I really didn't need or could make, borrow, or get second-hand.

Here is my list:
- food (you buy this new, no getting around it; try to buy with minimal packaging, or reusable packaging like glass)
- a coat and hat, if it gets much colder (researching a second-hand shop here)
- train tickets (it's a must, and you have to have a paper copy, no getting around this)

Short list, eh? Everything else I am tempted to buy, I can probably do without, can't I.

In honor of this auspicious day in which I have promised myself to try my absolute best to stop buying new stuff, I leave you with the Story of Stuff which is a really entertaining video about the effects consumerism has on our earth and what you can do in your own little way.

If you'r einterested in knowing how specific companies stack up, you can go to Climate Counts to check their carbon-output rating. Very interesting stuff!

I'm also looking into recipes for body products like soap and lotion. If you have any please leave them as comments!

That's all for now. It's bedtime here. Toronrrow I take out the trash for the "last time"!

No-Impact beginnings...

Here i am in Vignola, settled in to my hostel for the night with two very nice Spanish girls who are definitely going to think I am weird. So far, being here and gauging the situation, I think certain things will be a snap this week -- I can walk everywhere, for example -- and certain things will be impossible -- I have no control over our general energy consumption, for instance.
Before I began the week I was asked to take a survey which asked me about my general happiness: what percentage of last week I was truly happy, somewhat happy, or down; my general habits in the categories that are addressed during the week: food, energy consumption, transport, water consumption, volunteerism, and trash production; and my hypothesis for the week.
I am generally a pretty happy person, and when I am not happy it's usually related to something like money, work, or traffic jams; sometimes I am really cranky if I haven't eaten properly. Colin Beavan maintains that improving your lifestyle in a "no-impact" way makes you a happier person. At least, that is what he discovered. I think that my particular experience will prove him right; in fact, I already think he's right. In my own experience I have noted this. Take travel. Going by foot means I feel in control of my mobility, for example, and I can go as fast or as slow as I want. Having to plan my meals means I will eat well and healthily. Producing less trash means consuming less and therefore buying less; buying less stuff means spending less money; spending less money means Danielle is happier. I am generally a happier person when I am taking up less room on the planet and being less of a consumer -- this I know already, and it's partly why I am doing this experiment.
In terms of my general habits I am already pretty conscious of how I treat the resources at my disposal and how much I consume. I am a big reuser and recycler, and I don't like to use products that are not natural; I try to buy organic, and in bulk. Here, that is impossible --everything is packaged, so that has been a challenge. I already am a public transport kind of gal. The areas I could improve, I know, are water consumption and energy consumption, and I would like to give back in a small way. I don't have a ton of time to volunteer but it doesn't take much. I would also like to make nearly no trash.

What I think will be most difficult here is eating. Finding products that are not packaged is impossible as I've said, and in Vignola it might be really hard to find anything organic.
My goals are to find out if there is a farmer's market and use it; to use as little of the hostel's resources as possible (ask them to leave my towels, no cooking, only hot water with lemon in the morning as opposed to coffee); and to talk about the experiment with the other singers who are here doing the masterclass week. That last will take a lot of balls for me, since I have never really been the "converting" type. It hink of talking about environmentalism like that is a little bit like evangelism which makes me uncomfortable. I have to get over that.

Iniziamo!

Getting warmed up...

...Because it's finally chilly here! I had to buy a sweater at the travelling Chinatown in the main piazza in Cremona this morning. Funny thing is, it's just a sweater, and it sufficed; I saw ladies in winter coats and toques today!! It was really only about 12!
There is something about fall that makes me really happy. Maybe it's just the changing of the season, or maybe there is a certain brisk, joyful energy that comes from people bustling in the crisp air of a fall morning, when the sun is still shining but your cheeks get red. It makes me think people are somehow more connected .. there is more energy in the air, people smile at each other as they pass, as if to say, "Yep, it's cold, but we're in this together." It's why I love Act 2 of Bohème so much, actually. That scene isn't the same if it takes place in Australia on Christmas Eve. Or is it? Maybe I'm just Canadian to the bone.
Anyway, speaking of community and people coming together --

Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for ...

my NO-IMPACT PROFILE!!!!

Yes, I am taking the Huffington Post's No Impact Challenge starting October 18th. Inspired by No Impact Man Colin Beavan, it is aimed at people who either have not really thought abotu the impact they are making in their daily lives, or who have thought about it but don't know where to start making changes. It's something I think will be really interesting to try and especially here in Italy, which is not exactly the greenest country.

You can sign up , or just learn more at this link, or read the guide that I'll be following throughout the week.

I would love to have friends do this with me. There are some people in Italy doing it so I belong to that group on the networking site, but there are so few so I've created a worldwide site and there are people everywhere -- Cyprus, South Africa.. one girl from Freiburg, who says her city is an incredible hub of green energy. Something to look into.

Anyway you can follow me as I try this out. I'll be blogging nightly and posting tidbits on there. I'll always link here as well. Looking forward to your comments!