Writing for ANAM

In March, the Australian National Academy of Music asked me to write some thoughts about surviving this current season. This was for the current students, from the perspective of an ANAM alumna, to encourage the current cohort, offer advice about how to use their time well, and how to maintain some semblance of continued learning. ANAM's training programme has recommenced online, and you can read about their activities on their website. 

So it's been several weeks of our everyday lives being upended and forced into virtual lockdown. You might have started out feeling excited about that many hours to yourself, anxious about not knowing how long this would last, disappointed that you had finally found the thing you were meant to do and now it's cut short and you can't even do it, or worried that you'd go crazy without normal interaction with other people. All those emotions (and all the others I haven't mentioned) are legitimate, and it's definitely helpful to recognise that nothing about this situation is normal. 

 

Maybe you've already found your new routine. Maybe you've been struggling to find your mojo and rhythm. Or maybe it's somewhere in the middle. 

It's okay to have good days and bad days, so long as you can accept it's sometimes how it is.

Be kind to yourself. But know that kindness to yourself doesn't mean not being accountable to yourself either. 

 

At the end of two, or six, or however long months, what do you want to say you did?

Set some goals. Achievable, measurable, interesting ones that will help you. 

Do you want to be audition-ready? Make a list of excerpts you need to learn, and learn the standard repertoire.

Do you want to have read through all of Bach's Preludes and Fugues? Work through one every few days.

Do you want to have listened to all of Mahler's symphonies? Plan them for different days of the week.

 

Cultivate things other than music for your life. 

This is important not only for now. I didn't always want to be a musician. But I am now, and I love it. I also love the friends I have in music.

But it's good to have other outlets. What happens if I had a serious accident and couldn't play my instrument anymore? Of course I'd be devastated, but hopefully my family and friends would value me more than my ability to play music, and there would be other things to talk about.

Are there things you always wanted to do but never find the time? Try it now. It doesn't have to be big or time-consuming. It could be that book you always wanted to read, the cupboard that never got organised, the friend to whom you always say, "let's catch up!" but never actually ring, the seeds that you bought that you never planted. And that's just a handful of the myriad of options. Ask others what they're doing, what they're reading, what they're discovering.

You also need friends outside of music. They help to give perspective in so many different ways. They might be your neighbours, your surf club, your church or faith community, your old friends from school, your circus skills class. Don't worry if they're not in the same life stage as you, the same age, the same background. They're people too, and chances are that everybody could do with extra friends, even for this time. 

 

Of course, there is the possibility that with all this time, you have a very long list of things you want to do. You're thinking, "Wow, so many hours! I will practise for ten of the sixteen that I'm awake for!". 

But could you do that in five hours instead, effectively and efficiently?

Then do that, and spend the other five hours doing other stuff. Listen, read, eat well (that means fruits and vegetables. Proper things. And if you must, a small treat also!), turn your room/living room into your home gym, or have a kitchen dance party.

In our enthusiasm to learn, beware over-doing it. I'm saying this for balance; by all means, use the time well to practise and hone your craft, but also know that you don't want to develop RSI in the process. Check in with your teacher. It doesn't take a lot to shoot a text message, or to have a quick video call to demonstrate something. 

 

I know so many others have written about good ways to maintain regularity and good mental health. I don't want to parrot them all, but want to highlight a few:

1. The human body loves regularity. Sleep is important. Do that thing of going to bed and getting up at regular times, and get a decent amount each night. The discipline to do this is good for your health even in normal times.

2. Stay in touch with people. If you're an extrovert, maybe you're going crazy already. Make use of video calls. Have Zoom dinners together, organise a group quiz night, tune in to an exercise video at the same time and do it together (but separately). If you're an introvert, text your friends. Schedule video calls (but not three on the same day!). 

Call your family. Write an email to an old friend. Send a message to your teacher. 

3. (Related to 1, and mentioned above) Take care of your physical being. Eat well, sleep well, do some physical exercise. As somebody who hates exercise, I've taken to doing squats while I brush my teeth (that's two minutes twice a day), having dance parties through the house (it's not pretty), and walking up and down the stairs. 

4. It's okay if your experiences are different to others. Find the things that work for you. Try things until you do.

 

My final thing is to say that even though none of this is ideal, there are always positives to be found. Attitude is a huge game-changer. Make sure you smile every day and try to laugh a little.

I've taken to writing down three things I'm thankful for every day. They might be small, like eating a tasty ice-cream, or that really nice text message conversation you had, or much bigger, like watching the whole Easter oratorio on YouTube, or learning a new piece (*actual examples from my past few weeks*).

I encourage you to do the same, because we could all do with some warm fuzzies that even though are brought about by this pandemic, don't have to be about the pandemic either. 

 

Use this time to focus on how to improve as a musician, but more importantly, how to develop character.

The life of a pianist

So accompanying makes up a lot of my work. And I use the term accompanying here, as opposed to the more politically correct (? appropriate?) term of associate artist. Because, let's be honest, sometimes it really is accompnaying, particularly when the role entirely is to support rather than to create an incredible musical experience for the performers and listeners alike. Which I realise is probably is the point of making music in the first place, and remains the most sought-after goal, and the ideal. But you know, sometimes in school and AMEB exams, it definitely isn't about whether I can play an incredible Brahms or Beethoven sonata, but whether little Johnny can execute his grade two pieces.

So, we're at the time of year where I'm getting lots of requests for accompanying. Some of them are for external exams, such as the AMEB exams, and some are for recitals at university. I don't even think I get that many requests (as one friend has said he is only going to say yes to 25 and then after that, he will just say no. I'm only playing for six uni ones and some AMEB ones and auditions and stuff!), but seriously, I could write a book even from this year's correspondence. I receive communication via email, phone calls, text messages.

Here are but a few highlights so far:

* The AMEB AMusA exam:
Mother calls me up for her daughter's exam. I'm about to walk out the door so ask if she can email me the details. She says she doesn't have the internet, much less email. I ask if she can send the repertoire through via text message. She doesn't have a mobile phone. I am stuck talking to her while she demands I check my diary to see if I'm even available ("Well, there's really no point telling you the repertoire if you're not even available to play for the exam." I'm not even kidding. I just don't want to talk business before 9am!). Reluctantly, I open my diary. I should have just said no. But stupid me didn't. I am free. She says the previous accompanist found the repertoire too difficult. She asks when we can rehearse, and I tell her that my schedule changes all the time because I freelance so I'll get back to her once I see the music so I can figure out how long I need to learn it. So then she asks where she can drop the music, which I tell her. Turns out she doesn't drop the music that day as promised, and she rings back and says I gave her the wrong address. I didn't, but she typed it into her GPS incorrectly (despite me giving lots of details, like the cross street, what the building looks like, not just the street address). We have a conversation where she is getting worried because there isn't enough time to rehearse (two weeks). I have to pull out the "Trust me, I'm a professional musician. I do this all the time on little rehearsal. Your daughter is probably very bright so we'll make it work." Music arrives a couple of days later. I'm super busy so don't get back to her about rehearsals yet because my schedule is so crazy. She rings and leaves multiple messages because I'm in rehearsals/working. She's frantic. I ring her back and leave a message for her. We play phone tag. I eventually get onto her at 9.15pm one night and say, "Obviously you didn't receive my message because you rang me again?" to which she replies, "No, I don't have the internet, email, mobile phone, and we don't get our voicemails." WHAT. I work; I don't even know when is an appropriate time to call her so that she picks up the phone. I work so that I can live and pay my rent. I don't know why I didn't get out of this sooner. I don't even know why the previous accompanist found this music hard (it's not that hard) - but was probably much smarter than I am. WHY.

* Text message received at 10.44pm on 28 October asking for accompanist for exam on 3 November. "I realise this is very late notice....the other accompanistsI have contacted have been unavailable or unresponsive."
I wonder why.

* Email received on 27 October asking for accompanist for exam on 4 November. Playing some of the Reinecke "Undine" flute sonata. That I don't already play.

* Email received within two weeks notice to play first movement of Mendelssohn 2nd cello sonata. Pretty sure I have about three times as many notes as him, and many more other rehearsals to fit in that time.

* An email probably from an international student, based on the extreme politeness and slightly awkward English: "So would u like to help me out?....So would u like to help me please?"
And that his teacher would like to hear the first rehearsal next week. I don't think so.
I don't have a problem with teachers listening to rehearsals, but seriously, let me do my work first.

* So many requests that only list the day. No time. Just the day. Like I'll be free the whole day for them. Details, people, details!

* After asking an individual to give me as much information as possible, I get a list of the songs she's singing. But she's forgotten to include the time and date of her exam because there is no way I remember the details from our phone conversation (one of many on any given day) and that's why I asked her to email me.

* I paraphrase here, but effectively this:
"Hi, I'm so-and-so. Are you free for my recital on this day at this time?"
No what instrument, nor what repertoire. Details, people!

* Request from uni student for accompanist within a very specific location, so she doesn't have to travel very far.

* Request from mother for son's AMEB exam with only the date (not the time). When I ask for the time, she tells me, and then tells me that we will have to be there half an hour before for the warm-up (like I don't consider this). And that the first rehearsal will be in two days time at his teacher's studio at specific time "so he can give some feedback on my son's performance". Because my schedule and availability is not important. Nor is preparation.

* Phone call from uni student - all the other people he's rung have said no for whatever reason; when I ask him his repertoire, he mentions Dutilleux oboe sonata. I buy time by asking if he could email me his entire programme and details about everything (because I honestly stopped listening when he mentioend the Dutilleux and am trying to figure out whether it's even possible to learn and put this together within three weeks). I don't receive email for a few days from him, by then (which, to be perfectly honest) my schedule has legitimately filled up with other requests which obviously need learning and prep time. When I finally get an email, he says the uni had my email address wrong (it doesn't. Other people have emailled me in that time). I tell him honestly that it is impossible for me to fit him in given the short leadtime and his specific programme. I find out later that he actually did a mass email to a whole bunch of people on the uni list asking for an accompanist with some sort of line about 'If any of you would like to take up my offer to be my accompanist, please let me know.'
I wonder why nobody replied to him...


* So many that say, "I know this is very late notice." Sometimes with no apology. I really wonder if they know how this music thing works and that late notice is usually very terrible, particularly if you want somebody worth paying.



WHY ARE THEY SO DISORGANISED?? I'm a human being too, and a professional musician, not just some support act ready to drop everything in my schedule to make yours work. This making music together is entirely about a relationship. Last time I checked, relationships went both ways.


There have been some really great people though.
My favourite so far was the student who was so organised that she asked me well before the exam dates were even out, and I said I honestly couldn't commit unless I had a date and time (and her repertoire was totally no trouble). And she said she understood and thanked me for my honesty.
Ah, there is some hope left still!

music and beauty and faith

I've been thinking a lot recently about  how the different elements of my life are not separate entities, but it's all one life. Faith, my career and work, my personal life, among other things - it's all part of me, and I can't comprehend one without reference to the others. I've held for a long time that playing in a church band is a lot like the church itself - everybody has different strengths and weaknesses, with individual and different functions. It wouldn't work if everybody did the same thing, nor would it if everybody tried to do their own thing. The end result is something greater than the sum of its parts, and is beyond ourselves. A few days later, I also came to the distinct realisation that playing chamber music is a lot like this too. As some of you might know, I love playing chamber music. It is probably my favourite thing in all of my music-making. And if you think about it, I hope you will understand the analogy here too. Every ensemble has is individual members who have different roles to execute and at various times, some people come out more than others and at other times, one has to step back to allow others to do their thing (and often, support them in order to do so). And that the end result is extraordinary, something beyond the sum of the individual parts, that we would not be able to recognise in isolation. I told somebody about this realisation the other week and was also drawn to the analogy of a fugue. The voices are individual, and the end result is spectacular, but without one of those parts, it would not be as brilliant as it really is. This is where I freely admit that the music of Bach, for me, is a deeply personal experience. Its brilliance, ingenuity, creativity, structure, subtlety and sheer beauty point me to God.

Now, you dear reader(s??), don't have to agree with my faith. I will clearly state that I don't intend to antagonise anybody. I realise pushing this out onto the internet makes it possible for pretty much anybody to read, so that, along with the hope that my blog is a space for my musings, are the intentions.

The last few days, I've been preparing a pile of music. Much of it is focussed on some truly masterful works - Debussy's cello sonata, Hindemith's alto horn sonata and the Franck violin sonata. (Don't worry, I'm also playing a bit of Bach and Brahms, among others, every day for its sheer beauty.) The more I sit with these, the more I discover. I think this is the case with music, and also with faith. One realises that you cannot exhaust learning about these things. I've been moved to the point of weeping because I've seen a little glimpse of genius, or because of just how beautiful it is. Maybe others do or don't gain so much excitement, or such emotional reactions from enharmonic shifts, seeing structures in music, the colours that dance in space or the vivid images that pop into my head when I hear certain things. But I've come to realise that sound has a profound impact on me.

And I came to the conclusion again, that regardless of whether the composers had faith or not, God truly gave us music to experience beauty and wonder. This article I subsequently read (only today!) summed it all up so nicely.

"Beauty was created by God for a purpose: to give us the experience of wonder. And wonder, in turn, is intended to lead us to the ultimate human expression and privilege: worship. Beauty is both a gift and a map. It is a gift to be enjoyed and a map to be followed back to the source of the beauty with praise and thanksgiving."

I think I've been experiencing this beauty.

Europe Reflections Part 4: Taking my breath away

A few experiences and places that took my breath away:

Ste-Chappelle, Paris
The most exquisite of Paris' Gothic monuments, one enters the first chapel and is amazed. But that's not the real deal. One ascends to the top chapel, to be greeted by what Messiaen described as "the pinnacle of religious art", one thousand stained glass windows in the most brilliant blue.

Musée de l'Orangerie, Paris
Monet's Waterlilies (Nymphéas) displayed in their intended light (diffused from above). The museum specifically does not allow photography, and tries to maintain quiet as much as possible to let all visitors experience the art, which is disaplayed in two oval rooms along the walls. I've never felt quite so much peace at looking at paintings before.

Musée Rodin, Paris
Probably one of my favourite museums out of the many I visited. For its peace, for revealing to me at the time that I enjoy sculpture, to see The Thinker, The Kiss, and the model of the human hand.

Grand Place, Brussels
The most beautiful city square in Europe that I saw. Big claim? See for yourself!

St Paul's Cathedral, London
Again, one can't take photos in here. Maybe it's the places that don't let you take photos that one really enjoys the experience in the moment. The grandeur of this building, but so beautiful, in its not over-the-top opulent way. My friend was right when she said that she loved it because it felt like it had clean lines, and was perfectly apportioned. The inside of the dome is beautifully decorated. The crypt is fascinating, with such luminaries such as the Duke of Wellington, Lord Nelson, Arthur Sullivan and Christopher Wren himself are interred here.

Anne Frank Huis, Amsterdam
Actually climbing through the narrow corridors and stairs of the house where Anne wrote her famous diary while in hiding. The grim reality of being in hiding brought to physical reality.

Holocaust Memorial, Berlin
The experience of actually walking through this maze created by Peter Eisenman is sobering. 2711 concrete columns rise from the ground, and one can see other people disappearing into the maze. One doesn't know how many people are in the maze at any given time, and the school group we saw enter seemed to be swallowed up by it. Walking through it, the undulating ground revealed the columns to be deceiving, as if the sky was closing in on you.

Dreikönigskirche, Frankfurt
To be perfectly honest, lots of OTT Catholic churches in Paris were like eating too much dessert - the opulence was too much to handle. Stepping into this church quite randomly, I was struck by its beauty in simplicity. Of course, it was beautiful in its own right, but the extensive notes for the self-guided tour (thankfully a version written in English) revealed a humbleness and serious, well-thought out theology for why certain traditional elements of the building are why they are, and why they're still relevant today. 



Of course, there are so many other places and experiences that were also magnificent that this (fairly short, in comparison!) post cannot begin to cover...

Europe Reflections Part 3: What lots of people ask

I hae been home nearly four weeks, which is nearly as long as I was away. But still many things are fresh in my mind. Some memories have probably already faded a little and some a little altered. I think the beautiful thing is that even though I might forget the facts and particulars, I will remember the impressions and emotions experienced. Some people have been pretty excited to hear how my travels went, though I suspect some have already followed along on social media and pretty much know most of it. Popular questions include, "What was your favourite thing?" or "What was your favourite city?". I think these questions are hard to answer, as I have a couple of favourite cities, but maybe because of the experiences that I had there, because of the sun shining or the people I met. Also, trying to answer just one favourite thing is hard, because there were so many excellent things.

One of my friends asked me this tonight, and I protested that one thing was too difficult (like choosing a favourite child, not that I actually know anything about this, but I assume perhaps like asking a parent that??). So she granted me "Top 5". And I thought for a while, and couldn't decide on the 'top five' favourite places as such, but came up with a Top 5 things I thought were really excellent that come to mind strongly.

In no particular order, and with stories (because I like stories):

1. I loved how history was so present
Not that it isn't in other places, like my own home country. But the idea that I went to visit a palace that was owned by the emperor, whose family ruled for six hundred years?! European settlement in Australia isn't that old!! And to hear how the different wars across the continent affected different countries differently, or to hear about the same war in two different countries with different perspectives. And that history is not just something from hundreds of years ago. I forget that the Berlin Wall fell during my lifetime. And that people of my generation, and people alive today were directly affected (or have family) who lived through this time, a time that, somehow in my mind, I had put into a glass jar and put in on the shelf as an artefact from a long time ago. But no, one can see parts of the wall that have been preserved, and go past it on their way to work, as a reminder that this struggle is from a time not that long ago.
And that I stood in buildings from the medieval times; wow.

2. Going to concerts
For a long time, definitely through uni, there was this assumption that in order to get really awesome at music, one has to go overseas to Europe to get good. And I will not dispute that there are lots of amazing schools, concerts and teachers in Europe, and that there are so many. In fact, in most cities, there was something going on every night - strikingly, in particular, during the week, not just the weekend. But this doesn't mean that Australia is rubbish; on the contrary, I appreciate much more the value of the way we work and how we approach things in a refreshing and innovative manner. I think this is partially a result of having this 'cultural hangup' as described in the first sentence above, that we as Australians sometimes feel like we have something to prove. That, and also because we don't have a long-standing tradition of "That's how it was done back then/when Brahms did it/because we've done it for hundreds of years like this", and the necessity for Australian artists to be versatile and open. This I really loved.
And I went to see some really excellent concerts: the recital by Jeremy Denk, hearing the Berlin Philharmonic and Concertgebouw in their home venues, going to Wigmore Hall....
But I also didn't enjoy some of it either: I didn't enjoy some of the programming of the aforementioned world-famous orchestras (even though they played most excellently!!), and a production of Don Giovanni that I thought was a bit tacky and also fairly unpolished (disappointing because I was looking forward to seeing an opera in the theatre that it was premiered at).
So this was exciting musically, and also quite eye (ear?)-opening.

3. Hearing the languages
It was really wonderful to tune my ears to hearing languages other than English being spoken widely. And even trying to pick accents. It often took a day or so to start understanding some of the sounds - and some with greater success than others. I was, and probably still, remain convinced that I would love to learn German because I think it's a beautiful language (and I'm not talking about the gutteral, or throaty sounds that people scoff at, nor the stacks of consonants, but for the fact that it makes sense - I think! - and can be extremely poetic and evocative). I am a bit hesitant about French only because the French people have a bad reputation for being snobbish about their language, but I will be the first to admit that it's really quite beautiful, and I was sad to leave Paris after attuning my ears to their language, and a little bit shocked and pleased to hear it again in Brussels. I think Czech is difficult and full of sounds I don't even know. And that Dutch sounds like an Irish person trying to speak German. I don't think I sound, or even am, that Australian when at home but when I was travelling, it was quite apparent to me that I am a little bit! And upon returning, it is quite a shock to hear loud conversations of topics I have no wish to hear, and sometimes with such foul language, and exacerbated by broad Australian accents. I don't think I experienced such extroverted conversations on public transport while travelling, but perhaps there were and they were all in foreign languages that sounded beautiful.....even if they were swearing...
To be honest, I probably did alter my accent ever so slightly in order to be better understood....which probably came out a tiny little bit British at times...

4. Figuring out which art I like
I went to a lot of galleries; I've seen quite a lot of art (and also more if you include the galleries I've been to at home, right?). One of the most striking moments in a gallery happened when I was at the Rodin Museum in Paris; I went on a recommendation of a friend, and decided that it was pretty close to where I was going to be that day, so I'd pop in. I was also pretty keen to see The Thinker. I discovered in that few hours that I love sculpture. I find it amazing that a hard material such as marble or stone might be able to convey movement, softness and the like - properties that a hard material inherently doesn't have. Talking to a friend, she also expressed a same love of sculpture, and made the point that sculpture is created by the removal of material to reveal the product. The precision required for this is extraordinary, as is the imagination to conceive of what is inside the block. I also discovered that if I don't see another still life again, this is alright with me. These facts were quite helpful when tackling larger museums later, as I did not always have the time to see everything - so it was useful to slowly discover what art I would derive enjoyment from and to be able to skip the things I was not so interested in, with little guilt. At the newly-refurbished Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, there was a sort of alternative curatorship called 'Art is Therapy' by Alain de Botton and John Armstrong.
"The museum tour is normally presented as a chnace to learn about art. This tour has a different purpose: it wants to use the art here to make life slightly less painful for you. This is a chance to think of art's therapeutic dimension. The central actor in this tour is not the art, but you: your hopes, your disappointments, your pains and your longings - to which art has specific and sometimes useful things to say."
Alongside a number of works on display, there appeared large yellow post-it notes-like squares that asked questions about the relevance of the artwork and its meaning to today's life. It talks of human vices and thought-provoking snippets. One in particular was particularly striking: it talked of how on the other wall there was a very famous Dutch painting, probably with three rows of people in front of it, jostling to get a view. It made the point that an artwork's fame can be extremely unhelpful because in order to touch us, art has to elicit a personal response, which is often overshadowed by its distinction. Another sign clearly affirmed that just because an artwork is famous doesn't mean one has to like it; this gives me reassurance that I don't have to like certain things just because many people declare it to be great, but another piece might be something that I love for other reasons.
(I regret not buying this book while I was there, and am figuring out a way to get it to Australia for hopefully not an exorbitant price!)

5. Making connections
One of my hopes for my travels was to make connections - and I mean in terms of putting things in context. I learnt about history (I think I did mention this in part 1?) and as mentioned above, it was cool to hear about the same wars from multiple perspectives. One excellent moment in making connections I recall with great clarity: a reconstruction of the Babylonian Ishtar Gate stands in the Pergamonmuseum. It is an exquisite blue, with different designs, including a frieze of golden lions. It is probably the most ambitious reconstruction to be undertaken within a museum and a very impressive one at that. Imagine my surprise and excitement when, at the British Museum, I saw a panel with an exquisite blue and a golden lion, and remarked to myself, "I know what that is!!".
Another connection has come up in the past week: I'm doing a workshop this weekend of Australian choral music at the State Library of Victoria. In my correspondence with the lady there, her email footer advertises a free exhibition - Rome: Piranesi's Vision. "But I've read that name before....."I thought to myself. Indeed I have. There was a temporary exhibition of some of Piranesi's prints at the Sir John Soane Museum in London; Soane was a huge Piranesi fan and owned some prints. And there's this exhibition of Piranesi's work in Melbourne.....crazy cool.
Incidentally, when I turned up for work today, I met this woman (after corresponding via email for the last few days). I had asked her via email whether it was indeed the same man (affirmative) and had expressed my enthusiasm to see this exhibition. And she gave me a gift - of the book accompanying the exhibition. It was an extremely kind gesture. She said she wanted to give it to me because I was so enthusiastic and excited about it. Wow :)


Of course, I could list so many excellent things. I really really loved meeting up with my friends who now live overseas (or will be soon). I think in total, I saw just under twenty of them (even though some meetings were brief). Some are very good friends, some are not so close - but it was wonderful to see each of them! I also loved the random conversations I had with strangers/fellow travellers/local people (select appropriate category). Highlights include:
* the German woman who tried to help me with directions, though she spoke little English, and I little German (lots of gesturing ensued)
* the Australian man on the train to Prague who asked tentatively if I spoke English ("Oh, thank goodness, you do too...and you have an Australian accent!" or something like that)
* the Belgian man who was willing to show me his city and answer all my questions (and also his lovely friends too)
* the Prague tourist information lady who was helpful and wanted to know all about Australia (and monotremes)
* my Austrian host who answered my many questions and explained so much about Austria (and gave me some good tips too!)
* the American guy who had been travelling for eighteen months who offered to take my photo for me in Prague, and told me he was trying to get Lithuanian citizenship and wanted to settle in Kuala Lumpur
* the Dutch family who would have invited me to come stay with them if I had been going near to their hometown
* the Spanish couple living in Rotterdam who invited me to come stay if I was going there
* the guy on the overnight train who helped me put my suitcase at the top; in fact, all the super helpful people who helped carry my suitcase up and down stairs, and put my suitcase on racks. So many kind helpful people!
* the American woman who sat down randomly next to me who turns out went to the same little school in CT that I went on exchange to (cool story!)
* the German housemate of my friend who picked me up and talked to me for ages, and suggested we go for a nighttime wander to look at the city and the trains
...among many cute little exchanges....

Europe reflections Part 2 - it's the little things

I take so many things for granted at home, and assume them to be normal. Now, I'm not talking about comparing countries to prove that we in Australia are so fortunate (although we are, and I am pretty sure I don't need to go anywhere to know that). Rather, my point here is to muse about the quirky things I learnt, discovered and experienced - including ones that still baffle me.

* In Germany, people sometimes move house with their kitchen. Granted, I don't think they move house at a rate that Australians do (for some reason, we love doing it?!), but seriously, what happens if the kitchen (that is, the cabinets, the surfaces etc) doesn't fit?!

* In London, one stands on the RHS of the escalator, and overtakes on the LHS. I don't get this - but we drive on the same side of the road as them, but we do the opposite?

* The Parisians are super-concious about what they look like. So many looked so glamourous! However, in Germany, people don't look quite so glamourous. And I like that. Outward appearances don't seem to matter quite so much.

* Bathtubs with the hose thing with no point in which to hook it up like a shower? How is one supposed to bathe in this? (Honest question, not some outrageous query. Point: you can't put it down because otherwise the water will go everywhere. Does one sit in the bath? Or squat? Because I didn't really want to run a full bath. And anyway, a full bath is for relaxing, with getting clean the secondary aim, I believe.)

* Beer is cheaper than water in Prague. So when they say that the leader of the Czech Republic is an alcoholic, they must be very serious...

* Despite being a large city, I didn't get lost in London. Okay, speaking English was very handy. But there are these boards every 200 metres or so with a little map. Super helpful. In fact, amazing.

* The best coffee in Europe is made in cafes started up by Australians or Kiwis.

* Not all English accents are nice to listen to. Some, in fact, are pretty much impossible to understand.

* More often than not in my grocery shopping, one has to bring their own bags to pack goods into. None of this plastic bag giving-out business. Also, Germany has this cool system for recycling bottles, where you can get a refund. Like that SA thing we see on our bottles in Australia, but for real in all of Germany.

* Also, Germany has the  most amazing domestic recycling system. Four bins. Yes.

* They buy water in a bottle, with bubbles, for normal, everyday consumption. (Yes, people do drink water from the tap too, and thankfully I didn't get any funny looks for asking if it was okay, but apparently this is not everybody's preferred water choice.)

* Public transport. They do it well. I've turned a little bit German and get frustrated if I have to wait for more than five minutes.

* High density living - they do this well. Which also means that they do public spaces pretty well, including the provision of green areas.

* Germans don't jaywalk. Parisians do it big time. As do those in Brussels.

* There must be something about being good-looking in the requirements for being in the police force of Amsterdam...

* I saw heaps of really great buskers!

* Peanut butter doesn't seem to be a common breakfast spread.

* Pigeons are the same everywhere in the world.

* Paris has these free public toilets around and about; that's great. And they are supposedly self-cleaning. But this takes a long time, so one often stands in a queue wondering why it's progressing so slowly.


I am sure I'll remember more as I look through some photos, or recall stories and observations.

Europe reflections part 1

In one word, Europe was amazing.
How does one even begin to process all that happen in the last five or so weeks? Well, I started this blog about nine years ago to keep friends and family updated with news from Melbourne and my new adventure in this city, but increasingly, it's become a good space for me to reflect, process, document, muse and what nots, and whether people read or not (and like it or not!) is not for me to determine.
So here I am, processing. I think it will come in various stages, and probably not at all in a steady stream of thoughts. I suspect I'll be thinking about things and it'll come out in spurts - gushing about lots, and then a silence and break for a while, and then another lot of words.

But I've been thinking about this first post for a few days, and trying to capture the essence of each city. So I've decided to jot down some words, some of the things I saw and visited, some impressions, and some brief highlights (and regrets, although I usually don't like to have regrets, though I suspect in general they are positive ones, if one can have positive regrets) of each place.

Paris
Beautiful, landmarks, Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, Champs Elysee, Arc de Triomphe, so many museums and galleries, rounded arches, running around
Highlights: Seeing so many landmarks that I've seen in films/photos and the like, getting by on schoolgirl French (and eventually falling in love with the sound of it)!
Regrets: Not eating enough French food (beyond pastries and macarons), lots of grey and wet weather (not that I had any control over that!)

Frankfurt
Functional, inordinate number of museums, reminded me of Perth (seriously)
Highlights: Getting to hang out with  my friend (who I wasn't going to, but plans changed, and yay!)
Regrets: Not going to the architecture museum

Vienna
Charming, neutral (as a country), big village, old-world
Highlights: My Airbnb host was amazing, seeing concerts for not a lot of money, music being a part of everyday life
Regrets: Not spending enough time here, at all! Two days was not enough! Not seeing other parts of Austria.

Prague
Baffling, crazy, touristy, but beautiful! Cobblestoned streets, lots of wars
Highlights: The city is beautiful, and much of the architecture consistent, as it was largely undamaged during WW2. The crisp morning air.
Regrets: Possibly stayed one day too long; it's really not that large a city. 'The Prague Effect' of it being so hyped up that perhaps I was expecting more? Not learning much Czech, so resorting to being a tourist entirely and using English.

Berlin
Evolving, edgy, remembers, commemmorates and moves forward
Highlights: Learning recent history (so fascinating!), catching up with Australian and German friends, hearing the Berlin Phil
Regrets: not spending more time in the West (because the East was so interesting)

Hannover
Charming, not-so-touristy (able to perhaps blend in a little?!), a place to live and do normal life
Highlights: Being able to stay with, and hang out with Australian friends and see how they had set up life in Hannover
Regrets: Not being able to speak more German so that the kind lady that helped me with directions could understand me better. But really, communicating with her limited English and my limited German and many hand gestures was entirely amusing and excellent.

Hamburg
Port city - and therefore, quite wealthy! This was actually a brilliant day - it was cold and the sun was shining.
Highlights: catching up with a couple of friends, wandering around, seeing a port and sea for the first time in four weeks (I really didn't think that I'd miss this so much, but it was quite a nice shock to see it!)
Regrets: not spending enough time here, not doing a free walking tour

Amsterdam
Canal life, bikes, funny sounding language (seriously, Dutch sounds like an Irish person trying to speak German), looking through fingers
Highlights: wandering around, especially the Nine Streets area, not being hit by a bike! Spending so many hours in the Rijksmuseum, catching up with a couple of friends, hearing the Concertgebouw Orchestra in their home, Anne Frank museum
Regrets: not taking a canal ride (gotta save some things for next time!), not buying that book from the Rijksmuseum (going to see if I can get it online...)

Brussels
Underrated gem, Musical Instrument Museum (one staff member at my hotel so enthusiastically recommended it that I decided I should go and for it to be the only museum I visited in this city), fought my way through the Pride parade (massive street parties)
Highlights: possibly the most beautiful square in all of my travels, meeting locals, hearing French alongside Flemish (yep, bilingual, and my language is not one of them, though pretty much everybody speaks English anyway)
Regrets: not spending enough time here (or in all of Belgium!), not taking (calculated) risks (like just staying out all night because one always needs a crazy travel story, right?!), not eating enough Belgian cuisine (next time - and I'm sure there will be a next time, because I really need to explore this country!), not being converted to being a beer drinker as a result of (not) trying Belgian beer. Also, I want to go back to see the early Rodin sculptures at La Bourse.

London
"When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life" Samuel Johnson
Highlights: So many sights! The fabulous Underground trains, finally going to London after dreaming of it for more than ten years, catching up with a whole bunch of friends (including one whom I hadn't seen in five years, and also getting to see my cousin, who flew in the day that I was leaving!)
Regrets: not having more time and also getting out of London. I think the UK needs a whole trip in itself - I dream of one day spending time driving around the UK and stopping it at cute B&Bs.


I've learnt so much history - and there is so much more to read about! I've learnt about what sort of art I like. I've learnt more about myself and I think I've gained even more independence. I've discovered for myself a few truths that people had told me about.
And yet I still have much to learn.....

More to follow, hopefully soon....