becoming friends with berlin

For the first while, as I trudged around icy and snow-laden Berlin, staring up at enormous, boxy edifices that are miles apart, and looking acorss squares a kilometre in area, I asked myself, "What is it about Berlin that I am missing?"
Because Berlin is one of the world's top tourist destinations, at least in my age group. There had to be something I wasn't seeing.
Each thing I do here, though, gives me a glimmer of what that is. It turns out Berlin is just playing hard to get -- a lot like Toronto, actually, in that a first impression of Toronto isn't always dazzling, but once you get to know the city you realize just how much it has to offer.
Last night was a Nuit Blanche of sorts - all of the museums and many other attractions were open and accessible on one (cheap) ticket. I saw the Dom, the Guggenheim, and the Musical Instruments museum, where they were showing silent films with a man playing a historically accurate organ as accompaniment. Berlin is full of incredible museums and galleries; I wish I could have seen more.
Tomorrow I leave for Freiburg, where I hope to frolic in the Black Forest and spend some time with a new friend, a fellow singer I met in Arezzo. She's Texan! I think my hosts live in the hippie commune near Freiburg so I will get a chance to see exactly how green I can handle my life...

I think a post every other day is a much more reasonable resolution..

I head off on my epic adventure tomorrow, so I thought I would post my itinerary in case anyone was curious or had TIPS or THINGS TO DO so that they can live vicariously through me.

16-18 Jan -- Arezzo
19-22 Jan -- Avellino
23 Jan -- Amsterdam
24-27 Jan -- The Hague
27-30???31???? Jan -- Berlin
end of Jan -- 5 Feb -- Koln, Mannheim, Heidelberg, Freiburg
5 Feb - 10 Feb -- Basel, Genève, Lausanne (with detour to French countryside)
10 Feb - 12 Feb -- Berlin

I come home with great pomp and ceremony (that's a lie) on 12 Feb and arrive in the late afternoon. I leave shortly thereafter for Baltimore to do an audition at Peabody Conservatory, and then I spend a week in Toronto before a few days at Bard College, where I am auditioning for their Masters in Vocal Arts.

On my epic adventure I have several teachers to meet for lessons, schools to see, and operas to attend, but part of it is soaking in the atmosphere of a place. With the exception of Berlin, where I have auditions and will thus be staying in a hotel, I want to couchsurf with people who are actually living in that city and can help me get a sense of what it's like.
So if you have any friends, let a girl know.

I can't wait to unleash my three sentences of German on their unsuspecting populace... they will never know what hit them.

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...

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

Today's moment is brought to you by the Duomo's roof.

I had an "I live here!!!!!?!?!?!?" moment today.

I have them sometimes. They come in two forms.

One form is the type that is accompanied by a contorted grimace of revulsion or sadness and usually occurs in response to one of the following:

1. Berlusconi is on TV saying something incriminating, or having laws made to protect his dealings (actually they rules against his random law-making recently, not that it will change much).

2. I see old ladies curled up on the sidewalk with their hands outstretched. OLD LADIES. They aren't using it for drugs, that's for sure. Why are they so poor? Or, I see desperate buskers board subway trains and begin to play, badly, on a broken violin or a crap accordion, smiling in vain at the obviously annoyed passengers, as their malnourished child goes around and holds out a duct-taped coffee cup.

3. I read stuff like this. Italy's right-wing government doesn't give a ... about gay rights, until three days ago? How many young gay Italians have to conceal their physical injuries and refuse to go to hospitals when they are beaten, because they haven't come out to their parents? How many clubs have to be raided, how many have to emigrate with their partners, how may have to die before this country realizes it's living in a really warped, religion-steeped vacuum?? There was another beating in Rome this week, the homicide rate is way up, and Berlusconi is under fire for a lot of other things, so maybe it's an opportunity to score some points by pouring some of his hard-earned money into a subway ad campaign that will just get defaced by the belligerent youth for whom it is too late, who have learned too early and too well what's right and wrong. Not that I'm proposing a solution. It's a deep-seeded problem. But you might be able to tell I think it's an important one.

4. I try to do things that are green and fail because the facilities don't exist (eg, must take elevators or escalators, must throw out paper or plastic, must use 1290843 sheets of paper to properly document coursework for teaching because everything is so complicated here, must take receipt for every single purchase made because otherwise the police will question whether you stole it, nowhere to compost, too dangerous to bike here, list goes on). Stay tuned for when I try a No-Impact challenge in one of the self-admittedly least green places on earth.

Sometimes, these moments are accompanied by absolute awe and wonder, amusement, reverence, and any combination of these and other similar emotions. Today's was like this and happened on the roof of a building, which, if you're going to have an epiphany, is just as good a spot as any, really. They happen on occasions such as the following:

1. I wander around an ENORMOUS church on a Monday afternoon when I have nothing better to do, see the preserved body of a dead archbishop and numerous very lovely paintings, and then take an elevator to wander around on the ROOF of said Duomo, from which you can see the ALPS and also all the little people and pigeons in the square below, and all the cranes and church spires and wee skyscrapers of Milano around you and all the saints presiding over the cities from their perches on the church spires are at eye level. The gargoyles are fantastic close up. ANd the Madonnina really is a wee little Mary made of gold perched on the topmost spire. THe spires are backlit by the sun and everything looks cream-coloured.
I sometimes have a really hard time getting over the fact that there is so much history just strewn about the cities here, and people go about their daily modern lives as if nothing were amiss, with no air of reverence, no eggshells underfoot, no neck-craning and google eyes. It's amazing to me that I can rush across a square in a hurry to get somewhere and not even notice that the square, and its subway stop, is named after the tenth-century church that is smack in the middle of it.

2. I have chocolate for breakfast, and that's not only OK, it's advised.

3. I sit on the tram or the subway and look around, and there are Italians, Africans, probably Brits and Canadians and Americans, Filipinos, Chinese and Japanese, and I know we all have at least one thing in common: we all speak great Italian. At home I don't take it as a given that you speak English, although most people do speak it. Some speak French, and some don't have a great level of English at all. Sure, in other parts of the world, it's probably the same- in South Korea, I imagine the dominant language is Korean, for example. But this is Europe, where languages mix a lot more easily, and in Italy, the 4 big ones (French, English, German, Italian) are taught in high school. In countries like Germany, the default fall-back is English; France I would imagine too. In Sweden they practically all speak fluent English, as far as my experiences with Swedes demonstrate. Here, you can't really get by -- as a resident -- without a perfect understanding of Italian and a really good ability to speak. Most Italians have very little to no English, ditto French and German. So there is that one thing that each and every one of us on that tram has struggled with and achieved. In a weird way, it's unifying and comforting.

4. Cities are circular and orbit around a main piazza. Life takes place in outdoor open spaces. They are always crowded with people walking, talking, sitting, eating, taking pictures, on cell phones, hanging out. I love piazzas. Why don't we have enormous open public spaces in the middle of downtown where you can set up runways for outdoor fashion shows and rock concerts, and that house enormous artifacts of history called Duomo's, EVERYWHERE?
To me this is indicative of a major cultural difference. It isn't just the church thing. Intersection after intersection in Toronto or New York, laid out in grids that really go nowhere; streets in parallel, angled bunches converging periodically in hubs with bars, banks, street markets, PEOPLE, that help define neighbourhoods and city zones, help drivers easily navigate between zones via roundabouts, and provide a mental and physical resting place from GOING. Which would you rather?
Having these points of arrival along your journey makes it meaningful and somehow, easier. At home I go from point A to point B. Here I go from point A to say, G or H with all the letters in between. I see more and experience more along the way. And resting points are built in. Just like siesta. Yes, that does happen in Milano, too.

5. People have met other opera singers before and they are familiar with the major works in the canon. Most have been to see at least one, usually in their hometown's theatre, and they probably liked it. They might even know someone who could help me, or their mom is a voice teacher. Opera happens everywhere. It's on TV, it's in small towns and it's relatively cheap. Your average Joe knows the words to La donna è mobile, Largo al Factotum, Una Voce poco fa, every soprano aria written by Puccini, and of course Va Pensiero. Entire blocks of streets are named after composers.
My point is... well, do I have to make it? I still haven't gotten over the novelty that I am not a novelty.

I never said it would all be roses, and Italy is a backwards country in a lot of ways. But there are some serious payoffs.

two heads are better than one, I think.

I have weekly Friday afternoon dates with myself.
The Castello Sforzesco Museums, or Musei Civici, are free on Friday afternoons, and they are glorious. You can walk through room after room of ancient Lombardian ruins, Lombardian Renaissance sculpture, and finish at the last sculpture Michelangelo ever worked on, the Rondanini Pietà; you can wander the art gallery and take in the view of the courtyard from the windows; and right now, you can ogle photographs and prints from the original produciton of Madama Butterfly in an exhibit devoted to the opera and guarded by a 400-foot-tall, weeping Cio-Cio San (picture coming).
Or, if the mood strikes and the weather is good, you can just wander the grounds and take in the castle as a sight in itself. It is rather majestic; it's laid out in a large square and fronted by an enormous piazza. In back, Parco Sempione stretches far into the northeast of Milan; previously all that land belonged to the Sforze, who, I suppose, were rich on a Medici scale. The buildings themselves encircle a spacious courtyard and comrise several turrets, a fortress, and a large, imposing central tower.
One of these days I will post pictures. The camera saga ended with me picking up my camera and getting my dad to scour Walmart for an extremely cheap alternative. Consumerism, obsolescence and The Man: one. Danielle's social consciousness: zero.
Anyway, this particular day, I was at the museum in the art gallery alone.
Alone is something I never thought I minded until I came here. I really only mind it sometimes. In fact, I only mind it when I think too much about it.
I really enjoy being alone, so much so that I feared I wouldn't even bother trying to achieve any sort of social life while I was here; I love living alone (I don't here) and eating alone (at home), and I love going to concert, movies, and cafes by myself, and I actively seek out places like libraries and museums where I can move amongst the fixtures and lose myself in my thoughts. Sure, I look at the stuff, but it's like knitting: you occupy your mind with something gross-motor-ish to do so it can abstract itself from reality and figure crap out.
Not that that is why I go to museums -- in fact, I am an avid learner and I like to read all the panels. I really appreciate well-curated collections. But sometimes art or carpets or dead people's stuff can be useful in this way as well. I could never go to a museum and brain-knit with a companion.
Anyway, I, who normally do not mind being alone, mind it here. It's the extremely social aspect of the culture that is a painful reminder of my solitary status. Itlaians travel in packs, and tourists tend to travel in two's, usually lovey-dovey two's; I look twice when I see someone else silently wandering around, because it is so rare. I am still shy about sitting down for a coffee alone here; at home, I have no problem getting my drink at the counter and disappearing into a chair at Second Cup for an hour or two. Maybe it is the lack of anonymity in general that makes it impossible to escape from scrutiny. You have to own up to being alone, because interactions are more personal. But isn't that a good thing? Isn't that what I wanted, or at least part of it?
Also, there are no benches. Because I am too shy to plop down at a table by myself for a coffee, when I have a half hour to kill before a meeting or a concert I am forced to keep walking, walking, walking, until I find a park (few and far between) or enough time has passed. I miss roadside benches.
But you know, sometimes it's nice to be alone. I had a rough day at work and I came to the museum searching for something to evoke a reaction in me, to help the bad mood pass. I guess I wasn't too open to that today. But there is always next Friday.