By popular demand, I am writing of my travels to Kazakhstan for an upcoming performance and other such things. I was planning on chronicling the journey anyway, but it does warm the heart to know that someone out there anticipates the random thoughts going through my head. In truth, I've been working on a post that has taken on a life of its own - I think it is two different posts now, which is why you haven't read it yet. Such is the way of writing. The story is what it wants to be, and I can no more decide where it's going to go than I can predict which way the wind will turn next. So, patience, people.
Back to the trip - I've been looking forward to it for quite some time, actually. The dates weren't confirmed until about 3 weeks ago, which had me a little nervous. The truth is, I am a HORRIBLE procrastinator. Deadlines get me going, keep me working, keep me focused. Otherwise I tend to flit from one piece of work to the next without too much direction. I suppose it's the threat of failure that makes it work for me. A shock, I'm sure, for all you people who think I'm so organized. And I am but in a loose, free association sort of way.
This trip began as all the others do - me up late at night finishing packing/prepping scores/whatever, me up early in the morning unable to sleep until about half hour before the alarm goes off then finally nodding off, then me getting the airport and needing an immediate nap. With 20+ hours of travel ahead of me, this shouldn't be difficult. I had the added inspiration this morning of seeing a number of Cleveland Orchestra members on their way to New York for their Carnegie Hall performance of Salome, including the bass who sang Jochanaan - he's impossible to miss in a crowd. Saturday's performance at Severance Hall was spectacular, so I have no doubt that the combination of being in New York and playing in Carnegie Hall will only boost their creative efforts. At least, it would for me.
There are a lot of unknowns on this trip. I do not speak the language (Russian), which is always a challenge in a foreign country. Hopefully I can get by with some smattering of English, German, French and Spanish, which seems to be useless east of the Atlantic. I've done less prep on what my foreign surroundings will be on this trip, choosing instead to concentrate on practicing and such. Go figure. I also have no idea what my schedule will be - I know will play a recital, teach a masterclass, and record a CD all in the span of 4 days...this makes me a wee bit nervous, but I'm sure it will all work out. No use getting anxious because I can't do anything about it. So, I will arrive at the airport in Astana, the capitol city, at around 11 pm and be met by a driver holding a placard with my name on it. I've always wanted to be one of those people. You know, people important enough to have drivers and interpreters. I'm living the life, aren't I? You would think that. Many people have a very glamorous view of musicians and our lives. Sometimes it can be somewhat glamorous, but that usually lasts about 45 minutes at the posh reception after the recital, if there is one. The rest is sitting in airports, finding the cleanest public restrooms (if there are any, especially in Europe), trying to squeeze the needed 12 hours of practice on a new organ into 3 hours, trying to be awake enough to practice at the only available hours on the instrument - many times between the hours of 7 pm and 2 am, changing your clothes in a tiny, dirty bathroom stall in the unheated basement of a college chapel...yeah baby, that's the stuff.
But in return, you get to travel to some pretty interesting places. It's all part of the adventure, really. After all, what stories would I have to tell if I always stayed in beautiful hotel rooms with chocolates left on my pillow every day? Sometimes I do, but not all the time. And I've been very fortunate in that my hosts for recitals have been very gracious and generous, and I've rarely been left to fend for myself so don't think that I'm complaining. But what interest would my music making have if life didn't include a little hard work, sacrifice and suffering? Those things are, after all, the fuel of artistic inspiration. Happy stuff works too, but for some reason for me the depths of despair brings out my most creative. And I consider it an incredible privilege to do what I do. Music in an unbelievable gift that completely loses its value if not shared. Sometimes the responsibility of that sharing feels like an enormous burden to bear, especially when life happens, and you know that the best therapy for yourself is to lock yourself in a dark room and blast Brahms First Symphony over the stereo and pretend the rest of the world does not exist. And trust me, life is HAPPENING right now. But hey, I could be flipping burgers for a living (not that there's anything wrong with that) so I'm not complaining.
So, it's just me and PBJ for the next 6 days, gallivanting across the European continent. And the happy truth is that this is what I always wanted to do with my life. I have no idea what's in store for us, but I'm sure it will be entertaining...
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