Zurich, Switzerland.
Although my trip to Switzerland happened over a month ago, I took the precaution of jotting down some notes on paper (!!!) while things were happening, since I didn’t have internet access; thus the lateness of this entry. And so, let us pretend that it is September 3th, a balmy Friday with sunny skies that saw me land in Zurich on no sleep, check into a hotel at 9am, and promptly crash for 4 hours. My tale continues from there…
Mandy and I figured out the tram system and road to the down town area of Zurich, where we walked to the historic district overlooking the river, and had a series of perfect moments. The first was while walking around the Grossmunster Church (which was beautiful), we discovered a mid 20-something jazz violinist and guitarist playing in a courtyard. I bought their CD and did my part to support street musician culture, and grinned like a moron as I listened to gorgeous renditions of “Autumn Leaves”, “Sweet Georgia Brown”, and other swing standards. I was both happy and sad that I didn’t have my violin with me. On the one hand, I was in disguise with no instrument to mark me as a fellow musician, so I felt free to give myself over the experience fully without feeling self-conscious. On the other hand, I really, really wanted to jam with these guys! Mandy pretty much had to tear me away.
Moment number two occurred as we walked past the Opera Haus admiring the beautiful architecture, and heard this magnificent Voice echoing through the cobblestone streets. I turned to Mandy and said, “Wow. You know what would be perfect? If that voice belongs to a live woman and she’s standing on a balcony in a beautiful gown, singing to the crowd below.” Mandy elbowed me in the ribs and replied, “Look up.” Sure enough, there was a real live prima donna in a gown singing an aria to her adoring public. I practically pinched myself to make sure what I was experiencing was real, since this is the sort of romantic nonsense I picture in my head whenever I think of Europe, but would never *actually* expect to see. So, yeah, a little weird (and wonderful!!) to see the inside of my head enacted on the street corner.
Moment number three was the chance discovery of an antique book store that was everything an antique book store should be: tidy yet musty, with floor to ceiling dark wooden bookcases lining every wall filled with beautiful volumes, a gleaming polished wooden staircase on wheels to reach the top shelves, and a charming lady proprietor who spoke at least four languages. After some delightful agonizing, I bought a 1919 edition of Voltaire political essays (in French) for Adrienne as a birthday gift, even though neither of us can read it. (Yet. Maybe someday.)
After a nice dinner, Mandy and I returned to our hotel ready to collapse for the evening, only to get roped into going out bar hopping with Rachel, Tobi, and Jake. For the record, I’m not a big bar person. I’m less of a bar person when a Jack and Coke costs 20 franks, or roughly $22.50. Not a fan. Even *less* of a fan when I’m charged $20 for a cup of coffee! Overall, the least satisfying part of my day.
9-4-10
My morning consisted of a walk to the grocery store, where I bought 38 franks worth of chocolate. And DAMN is it good.
Our concert this evening was a smashing success, despite a few sound issues. The stage was huge and set into the side of a mountain, and over to the right as a pastoral vision of glowing greed farmland and woods. It took my breath away. The audience was very good about participating during the show despite the language barrier, and danced the Mustang Sally dance with great gusto. The rest of the bands were very complementary, and we were able to listen to most of Roseanne Cash’s set. Did I mention we were opening for Roseanne Cash, country legend? Pretty awesome.
9-5-10
For my last day in Switzerland, I decided to roam by myself and seek out some culture in the form of opera. The Zurich Opera Haus is just as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside, and I enjoyed it all the more for having managed to get a last minute ticket to see Madame Butterfly for roughly $30. So I found myself, an American, in Switzerland, viewing an opera set in Japan, being sung in Italian. How’s *that* for a mind trip? It was glorious.
After the opera, I went across the street to a charming café and ordered a decedent chocolate mousse thing that blew my mind while I people watched. Feeling like a ramble was in order, I set off again and to my delight and surprise, found the jazz duo from Friday playing on another street corner! I listened for a while, and was very surprised when, as they were pausing to take a break, the fiddle player recognized me and asked how I liked their CD! We chatted for a while, and it was revealed that these two fellows were in fact French, and that I was a fiddle player. As soon as that came out, the violinist thrust his violin into my hands shouting, “Play! Play!” So I played. And the guitar guy joined in. And they invited me to sit in at their gig that night.
I didn’t end up going. As luck would have it, the fellows weren’t able to give me directions, and so I only had the name of the bar on scrap of paper. I looked it up, and discovered that this name applied to a whole district of the city, and almost every bar in that area contained it as part of the name! I wish that I had hopped on the tram, boldly set off to examine every bar until I found the one that contained my buddies, and fiddled the night away with marvelous ease and cool licks. Instead, in view of the dark, cold, lateness of the hour, and my unfamiliarity with the city, I opted to go to bed. Ah well.
Aftermath:
The end result of my adventure is that the promoter who booked us at the festival liked us so much that he has invited us back for a festival in February- the same festival that was one of my very first shows with Mustang Sally 6 years ago! So you’d better believe that if anyone asks me to go play tunes, I’ll be ready.
Mandy and I figured out the tram system and road to the down town area of Zurich, where we walked to the historic district overlooking the river, and had a series of perfect moments. The first was while walking around the Grossmunster Church (which was beautiful), we discovered a mid 20-something jazz violinist and guitarist playing in a courtyard. I bought their CD and did my part to support street musician culture, and grinned like a moron as I listened to gorgeous renditions of “Autumn Leaves”, “Sweet Georgia Brown”, and other swing standards. I was both happy and sad that I didn’t have my violin with me. On the one hand, I was in disguise with no instrument to mark me as a fellow musician, so I felt free to give myself over the experience fully without feeling self-conscious. On the other hand, I really, really wanted to jam with these guys! Mandy pretty much had to tear me away.
Moment number two occurred as we walked past the Opera Haus admiring the beautiful architecture, and heard this magnificent Voice echoing through the cobblestone streets. I turned to Mandy and said, “Wow. You know what would be perfect? If that voice belongs to a live woman and she’s standing on a balcony in a beautiful gown, singing to the crowd below.” Mandy elbowed me in the ribs and replied, “Look up.” Sure enough, there was a real live prima donna in a gown singing an aria to her adoring public. I practically pinched myself to make sure what I was experiencing was real, since this is the sort of romantic nonsense I picture in my head whenever I think of Europe, but would never *actually* expect to see. So, yeah, a little weird (and wonderful!!) to see the inside of my head enacted on the street corner.
Moment number three was the chance discovery of an antique book store that was everything an antique book store should be: tidy yet musty, with floor to ceiling dark wooden bookcases lining every wall filled with beautiful volumes, a gleaming polished wooden staircase on wheels to reach the top shelves, and a charming lady proprietor who spoke at least four languages. After some delightful agonizing, I bought a 1919 edition of Voltaire political essays (in French) for Adrienne as a birthday gift, even though neither of us can read it. (Yet. Maybe someday.)
After a nice dinner, Mandy and I returned to our hotel ready to collapse for the evening, only to get roped into going out bar hopping with Rachel, Tobi, and Jake. For the record, I’m not a big bar person. I’m less of a bar person when a Jack and Coke costs 20 franks, or roughly $22.50. Not a fan. Even *less* of a fan when I’m charged $20 for a cup of coffee! Overall, the least satisfying part of my day.
9-4-10
My morning consisted of a walk to the grocery store, where I bought 38 franks worth of chocolate. And DAMN is it good.
Our concert this evening was a smashing success, despite a few sound issues. The stage was huge and set into the side of a mountain, and over to the right as a pastoral vision of glowing greed farmland and woods. It took my breath away. The audience was very good about participating during the show despite the language barrier, and danced the Mustang Sally dance with great gusto. The rest of the bands were very complementary, and we were able to listen to most of Roseanne Cash’s set. Did I mention we were opening for Roseanne Cash, country legend? Pretty awesome.
9-5-10
For my last day in Switzerland, I decided to roam by myself and seek out some culture in the form of opera. The Zurich Opera Haus is just as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside, and I enjoyed it all the more for having managed to get a last minute ticket to see Madame Butterfly for roughly $30. So I found myself, an American, in Switzerland, viewing an opera set in Japan, being sung in Italian. How’s *that* for a mind trip? It was glorious.
After the opera, I went across the street to a charming café and ordered a decedent chocolate mousse thing that blew my mind while I people watched. Feeling like a ramble was in order, I set off again and to my delight and surprise, found the jazz duo from Friday playing on another street corner! I listened for a while, and was very surprised when, as they were pausing to take a break, the fiddle player recognized me and asked how I liked their CD! We chatted for a while, and it was revealed that these two fellows were in fact French, and that I was a fiddle player. As soon as that came out, the violinist thrust his violin into my hands shouting, “Play! Play!” So I played. And the guitar guy joined in. And they invited me to sit in at their gig that night.
I didn’t end up going. As luck would have it, the fellows weren’t able to give me directions, and so I only had the name of the bar on scrap of paper. I looked it up, and discovered that this name applied to a whole district of the city, and almost every bar in that area contained it as part of the name! I wish that I had hopped on the tram, boldly set off to examine every bar until I found the one that contained my buddies, and fiddled the night away with marvelous ease and cool licks. Instead, in view of the dark, cold, lateness of the hour, and my unfamiliarity with the city, I opted to go to bed. Ah well.
Aftermath:
The end result of my adventure is that the promoter who booked us at the festival liked us so much that he has invited us back for a festival in February- the same festival that was one of my very first shows with Mustang Sally 6 years ago! So you’d better believe that if anyone asks me to go play tunes, I’ll be ready.