27-28 October 2012, Leipzig, Part Two

27-28 October 2012

Leipzig

The "Motete" at Thomas Kirche was not a concert. It was eighty per cent music, but it was a Lutheran service. And the Thomas Kirche choir was outstanding as one would expect of a group that just turned seven-hundred years old. Their pitch was exact. Their articulation of all those German consonants was clear as a bell. And their sound, in that famous church of Bach's, made me think of a pipe organ, a human pipe organ with lungs instead of bellows.  We loved it. Our fellow congregants must have liked it, too. But they are Lutherans and applause was strictly forbidden--it explicitly said so in the program.  They did not smile and they did not make eye contact. In my view, what Martin Luther advocated is austere and unexpressive unless you are expressing disapproval. His ideas were illegal in Leipzig up until the year fifteen-thirty. After that he became powerful and his practices spread like wild fire.

We arrived into Leipzig's huge train station--twenty-six platforms.  It may be huge, but it is very well laid out and easy to maneuver.  From there we walked four blocks to our hotel. The climate was freezing, literally. But walking was still very nice. Leipzig was once a small walled city, like Lucca in Italy, and Dubrovnik in Croatia. In our modern jet-set era it has a fin-de-siecle, an old world charm which is rare and a pleasure to stroll through even when you are pulling roll-aboards from the train station.

And what a reward was in store for us when we reached the hotel. The Steigenberger Grand Hotel is a state-of-the-art luxury inn. One year old. A baby. Hardly been slept in. It looks and feels like "the" place to be and in Leipzig, it is. We especially loved the spa. We dragged our world-weary, achy, travel-abused limbs down there and--after sauna and steam and foot soaks and warm-scented tropical showers and bathrobes and chaises and softly wafting spa music--floated out hours later relaxed and renewed.

In addition to the Thomas Kirche we dwelt a bit in the world of the Nicolai Kirche. It, too, is Lutheran. It, too, featured Bach and his new cantatas every other week.  But since nineteen-eighty-nine it has a distinct honor related to the fall of the communist government in East Germany.

The church began a weekly, what they called, "prayer for peace" during which they prayed for fairness, democracy and peace. Their communist government tried to stop them by force and violence then by infiltration. Once the police were in the church and heard the "prayers" they softened and it changed the relationship between the oppressors and the oppressed. It is considered that the movement to bring down the Berlin Wall and communist rule and to re-unite East and West Germany got it's start with the Nicolai Kirche's "prayer for peace."

Leipzig in the Snow

Today is a special day. It is snowing. Scarves, gloves, hats. People carrying pine boughs. Is it Christmas behavior? Or is it seasonal behavior? Weather gets cold, let's get pine boughs, drink mulled wine, eat more stew. I love it. We walked in the light snow to visit the residence of the composer, Felix Mendelssohn who lived in Leipzig for the second half of his life. He died fairly young at thirty-nine years old. Just outside the old city, a block past the old moat, we arrived at an old wooden door. Turned the knob, entered and ascended an old, decorated, dark wooden stairway that looked unchanged from when Mendelssohn last walked it.   

Worn, uneven and creaky, we walked the stairs up to the second floor and into his apartment. There were about ten rooms open for us to see. The largest was a salon with a piano for performances. Otherwise, the rooms were small with room for a  bed and a desk and not much else. We saw his watercolors paintings. And his composing desk. And we stood in his bedroom where he died.  Mendelssohn was a prodigy and, like Mozart, as a child and a young man he was reading latin and greek, composing, conducting, dazzling audiences with his piano virtuosity and traveling and painting with watercolors images of his favorite places.  During his final dozen years he started a music conservatory (it still exists) and became conductor of the Gewandhaus Orchestra. There he promoted works by his composer colleagues and honored dead unplayed composers like Bach and Schubert. He revived their unperformed works. The evidence indicates he was a good man, a kind man who sought to always be helpful. Those thoughts were fresh in our minds when we went to hear his symphony in a concert that evening at the Nicolai Kirche.

The Nicolai Kirche is about nine-hundred years old. Add to that it's "prayer for peace" history, it's Bach connection, it's Martin Luther history. And factor in it's flattering acoustic, it's pastel green and pink interior, it's tall fluted columns that burst into palm fronds when they reach the ceiling.  Then there is the magnificent, powerful, pew-rattling organ from the year eighteen-fifty.  It is a special place. We sat in the front row of the first pew, practically in the violin section. And it was a good concert. 

The orchestra was, as usual in Germany, very good.  They began with  Mendelssohn's Symphony Number Five. It is known as, The Reformation Symphony. Mendelssohn's family was jewish, but they knew how to be Lutheran-friendly in order to avoid discrimination. To honor the three-hundredth anniversary of Martin Luther's "Augsburg Confession" Mendelssohn (twenty years old) wrote a symphony using Martin Luther's hymn, "Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott", (A Mighty Fortress is Our God.) The next piece, an organ solo by Max Reger also used the hymn. The concert finale was the Symphony Number Three by Camille Saint-Saens. Wes and I were both hearing the Saint-Saens for the first time. We loved it. Our heads were full of history. Our ears saturated with music.  For a perfect ending we went in search of pastry.

We had very good food in Leipzig. It was different than Berlin and Dresden.  There were more stews and wild game.  And things that tasted like home-cooking.  At our first dinner we ate herb-crusted wild boar on a bed of wild mushrooms. And a goulash with roasted parsnips. We drank beer. The prominent one here is Ur-Krostitzer, in business since fifteen-thirty-four.

For our final Leipzig dinner we ate in the "Alte Nicolaischule" Restaurant. The building began life as the Nicolai Kirche boys school in the year fifteen-eleven. (Their most renowned student, opera composer, Richard Wagner, was asked to leave after two years.  Instead of doing his school work he would while away the hours writing plays in five-acts in the style of Shakespeare. A very creative slacker.)  Today, the building is no longer a school. The ground floor is a restaurant and to open the front door and walk in is to turn back the hands of time and enter "ye olde tavern."  Austere stone floors and walls. Plain wooden chairs and tables dim lit with candles.  Like a roadside inn for horse-drawn carriages.  Like walking into a centuries-old painting of a tavern. The menu was fresh game. As if the chef went, today, on a hunt and what he caught is what we will eat.  Catch of the day. We had pheasant and venison. Both were outstanding. Served with sides of brussel sprouts, diced bacon, spiced red cabbage and mashed potatoes.  Tall, too tall, steins of beer. An outstanding meal. The waiter came over. He said something in German. We shook our heads and made uncomprehending eyes. He steeled himself for English and said, with slow precision, "The. Meal. Vas. Appropriate?". Yes, we said, very appropriate, thank you, very delicious, too delicious, wonderful, danke.

Goodbye Leipzig. You have been wonderful.

27-28 October 2012
Leipzig 

A Closing Statement:

It has been an exceptional experience. Wesley the travel planner has done an indescribably outstanding job. Many times, I have felt, "I cannot believe I have the tremendous good fortune to be in these places having these experiences".  We traveled to four countries. They all felt comfortable even where language was a barrier. As you can tell by my wordiness, I have been an insufferable history geek, but I cannot be accused of not squeezing every ounce of culture out of each place we have been. If I have written too much, if I have oversaturated the readers, I apologize. These entries began as a way of sending updates quicker than postcards. Now, they seem like something that can be read years from now to get a sense of how the world was when we were there. And if I am too wordy, blame it on James Michener. Good bye, till the next trip.

Marlow
29 October 2012
Frankfurt, Germany
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Final day of travel

Last day of train travel from Leipzig to Frankfurt Flughaven (Airport).  We'll be home tomorrow (Tuesday 10/30)!  It's been a great great trip.  We traveled through three seasons: summer in Spain; fall in Italy and the start of winter in Switzerland and Germany.  Anxious to be home and share more of the adventure with all of you!

26 October 2012, Leipzig, Part One

26 October 2012

Leipzig

Here we sit. Late afternoon. Inside a warm church. On chairs of bare, uncushioned wood. Outside it is winter in October. Thirty degrees Fahrenheit. We are in a long row that runs the length of the church from the front door to the altar. That is how the seats are oriented, long rows on both sides that face the center aisle.  To see the altar you must turn your head ninety degrees. Otherwise you face, eye to eye, the people in the opposing rows across from you. (Is that a Lutheran thing?)

To our right, over the tall front doors and in a loft is the organ. To our left, reached by three steps, is the altar. Mostly free of decoration, it's side walls are hung with double rows of large oil portraits of unsmiling men in dark garments.  Beneath the stern faces are double rows of chairs on both sides. I imagine singers will occupy them.

Finally, between the chairs and inlaid in the floor, is a rectangular bronze plaque. It reads: Johann Sebastian Bach, 1685-1750. His remains are beneath the plaque. This is the Saint Thomas Kirche in Leipzig.

Dear Bach, our creative genius, who's music is a balm for what ails the humans of the world. It entertains, it soothes, it uplifts. Our dear Bach worked long hard hours in Leipzig. Over-worked. Under-paid. He auditioned teenage boys--hooligans, mischief makers--for the choir school then built them into a first-rate ensemble. His boy sopranos grew up fast. Voices changed. So auditions were constant. And he played the organ. And he conducted. And did administrative work for four churches. And it was his job to select music for the Sunday services. Select? Of course not. He wrote it all himself. Every Sunday for twenty-seven years he wrote new music for the Lutheran services.

It was a big job. Modest. Humble. Lots of bosses to please.  He was a city employee with a contract to adhere to. After twenty-seven years of loyal service he died and was buried in an oak casket in a nearby churchyard then forgotten for eighty years until Felix Mendelssohn came to live in Leipzig and began a revival of interest in Bach's music.

Meanwhile, back in the Saint Thomas Kirche, we have been sitting now for forty-five minutes waiting for the "Motette" to begin. We are unsure if it is a church service or a concert. There is a printed program and it does list several choral compositions. But it also tells us who will give the sermon and when to rise and sit. If it is a church service, I hope we can convincingly pass as Lutherans.

And now, it is show-time. The singers--twelve men and twenty two women--have entered the front door.

Marlow and Wes
26 October 2012
Saint Thomas Kirche
Bach's workplace
Leipzig
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24-25 October 2012, Dresden

24-25 Oct 2012
Dresden

The name of our train from Berlin to Dresden is the "Johannes Brahms". It seemed a cozier, more intimate train than usual.  It was Czech. We sat in the dining car and ate seasonal Czech specialties.  The day was overcast and chilly when we arrived in Dresden. Our hotel is the Bellevue. (The famed conductor, Hans von Bulow, was born in it.) It is on the bank of the Elbe River. It faces the old city and the bridge to it. Our room has the same view as the Canaletto painting.

Dresden was a short stay occupied mostly by museums visits. Many of the great buildings of the old city were destroyed in the war. They remained piles of uncleared rubble, some for thirty or forty years. They now have all been rebuilt. The before and after photos are astounding.  And the art collections they house are impressive.

Dresden was the home of Augustus the Strong. He loved beautiful objects like buildings, jewels, paintings, sculptures, theaters. He bought and built like a fiend and much of it is on display in various museums. Most everything he acquired still has his initials. The frames of the paintings have his crest below and a crown on top.

One of the museums, the Grünes Gewölbe (Museum of Treasury Art) was his palace. He had a passion for over-the-top decorative objects.  How about a cherry stone with one-hundred and eighty-five faces carved into it. That is a bit of silliness. But there are, perhaps, eight rooms that were specially designed to hold his collections. Visited sequentially, each room out does the previous in lavish materials, decor and priceless objects. One room has wildly intricate carvings of amber fashioned into platters and cabinets. Another is ivory. Another has bowls and vessels carved from clear crystal. Another has complete sets of jewels. A matching ensemble--buttons, buckles, ear rings, necklaces, pins, a sword handle--of emeralds. Another of rubies. Another of sapphires.  Another of diamonds which include a double necklace with a dozen and a half huge, half-inch, teardrop-shaped diamonds. The Alte Meister Museum holds his painting collection. He bought good stuff. Breughel, Raphael, Vermeer and of course Canaletto. And the building has the best courtyard. Formal lawns, fountains and red earth paths.

Connected to the museum is the Alte Meister Restaurant. It is an elevated stone pavilion with large arches with windows. Comfortable and warm on a chilly night with candle light, soft jazz, good cocktails and great food. Our food begins with a warm tranche of goat cheese in a pool of fresh tomato ragout.  Next up, pumpkin soup with a quail filet on a skewer for Wesley. Coconut-cream, lemon-grass soup with prawns for me. After that, duck breast over roasted parsnips for Wes. And loin and belly of local Duroc pork for me. With the pork, I am drinking 2011 Riesling, (Rothenberg.  Nahe. Weingut Bürgermeister: B. Willi Schweinhardt. "Trocken, fein eingebundene Säure, Pfirsicharomen".)

In the moment.....while eating.....the first bite of the pork: perfect. Tender. Moist. Rich flavor. In a small pool of a rich pepper infused reduction. My wine, a white, is not at all minerally, it is intensely fruity, but not at all sweet.

(With apologies to Meredith. I know you are not here to slice and eat this delicious pork. To sip and swish this delicious wine. But you would really, really love it.)

The meal is over. It was wonderful. Everything prepared to perfection. The meats, tender, medium rare, juicy. A most comfortable place to land after a day of train travel and on a chilly winter October night.

During most of our stay the sky was overcast, but on our last morning the sky was clear and blue. We walked one last time across the bridge to wander in the sunlight. We walked through piles of colorful autumn leaves. We kicked them into the air. It was cold. Winter has come early. And we are excited now to get to Leipzig. To the train.


Marlow and Wes
24&25 October 2012
Dresden
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18-23 October 2012, Berlin, Part Two

18-23 October 2012

Berlin, Part Two

I have gotten behind in writing. We have seen and heard and tasted and felt so much it has been a lot for my brain to process. Here is the rest of Berlin.

Pedaling in the Tiergarten 

Berlin is the first German city I have ever visited. I was quickly aware that it was going to be a challenge to wallow in it's history. And it was. We took a bicycle tour. It was six hours long that flew by like a breeze.

The day was perfect. Sunshine and blue skies. We pedaled through the tree shaded lanes of the Tiergarten, Berlin's Central Park. We learned about the great theater the Deutsche Staatsoper Berlin. It was built in the seventeen-hundreds. One of the first opera houses.  And it was reconstructed in the old style after it's destruction in World War Two. We pedaled around the Brandenburg Gate. Fully restored and wildly popular. The American Embassy is there. We saw Checkpoint Charlie, a cold war relic. And the Holocaust memorial. Then more great museums and parks.  Much of the modern German history is a dark tale. This is not vacation stuff. I recognize the importance of airing historical dirty laundry. The world should be compelled to remember so as not to repeat. But dwelling in that realm is sad and solemn. I did not dwell. I took note of it and I moved on.

We stayed in a one-bedroom apartment in East Berlin at the Mandala Suites--recommended by a neighbor. After the Berlin Wall fell, parts of East Berlin were flooded with interest and money. It is still in a renaissance period and our neighborhood evidence of it. It was great. Around the corner was the Gendarmen-markt Platz.  It instantly became a favorite place to hang out. It is a large, light, old, cobble-stone paved, rectangular plaza flanked by two identical churches and a concert hall. It is an  elegant and welcoming space with lots of cafes and restaurants to enjoy it from.

Gendarmenmarkt by day

Brandenburg Gate at night

We went there on our first night. The sun had set.  There were lots of people. And they were carrying tripods. Like the city people were on a photo field trip. We learned that people were out city wide. It was for the Festival of Lights. For two weeks artists were invited to illuminate buildings. In this instance the lights were animated images on the move and colorful covering the entire surface of the buildings' facades. It was great. It brought out the Berliners for a city wide photo party.

Gendarmenmarkt at night

I am new to German food. I have grown--literally--to love their sausages (wurst) and potatoes (kartoffel). The potatoes, they sauté with onion and ham and finish with a sprinkle of fresh chopped parsley. The aroma travels far. In the Ka De We food court we wafted on that aroma like  cartoon characters.  It picked us up and floated us right into two stools at Kartoffel-Acker, a potato restaurant with twenty seats. Their potato pancake is light as a feather, thin, golden and covers the plate. Just add apple sauce. My lunch was sauteed potatoes, ham and onion cooked into a perfect omelet.  The other notable food was at Lutter & Wegner. Wes took us there several times. It is special. Beloved. Old. Since 1811. Artist, creative types, business people. Classic stuff.  I experienced my first Wiener Schnitzel (von Kalb aus der Pfanne mit lauwarmem Kartoffel-Gurkensalat) there. It was a revelation.  It covered half of the large plate. It's contour resembled South America. Like Wes's potato pancake it was light as a feather, thin, golden. I squeezed some lemon over, took a bite, tasted and swooned. I am a changed man.  Thank you Wesley for making taking me there. And thank you Lutter & Wenger for making it so delicious.

Marlow and Wesley
18-23 October 2012
Berlin, Part Two
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18-23 October 2012, Berlin Music

18-23 October 2012

Berlin


Berlin is a wonderful city for music. The Komische Oper Berlin may be called the Comic Opera, but it is as serious as it is comic and it is passionate about illuminating the story and making the stage come alive for the audience. We saw Orfeo by Claudio Monteverdi. Monteverdi lived to a good old age in Venice. He became a priest and spent his later years pondering life's great issues and setting them to music. Those compositions from the sixteen-thirties are considered the earliest, if not the first, operas.

The Komische Oper's theater, on the outside, is an unremarkable stone-clad box. Inside, it is lovely. Fairly intimate. Aglow with golden-hued sconces. Red velvet draperies framing the dozen or so arches on the second of two balconies. Between the arches torsos of large statues burst forth from the plaster. They twirl parasols and wield swords in dramatic poses. Our Orfeo performance began with trumpets playing to each other from opposing balconies. And birds flying overhead, dozens of them, mechanical, but life-like. The chorus descended from the stage, surrounded the audience, formed a ring around us and sang to us. The story of Orfeo is one of love found, then lost, then found, then lost. Along the way there are laments and there are love-fests, orgies. Ecstatic groups of bare chested women with long tresses and flowers in their hair. And men, also bare chested, whose lower halves were shaggy furry cloven-hooved animal legs. There was dancing. It was both classical and  contemporary all at once. The orchestra sounded excellent. It was a mix of traditional string instruments, and the eerie and exotic oud, with an accordion in lieu of harpsichord. The singers were articulate and expressive. If it sounds like I loved it. I did.

On the next day there was more music. We were in the Dussmann record store at mid-day when the principal players from a another opera company, the Deutsche Staatsoper, stood in the atrium and played Mozart's duet for violin and viola. They were outstanding, especially the violist.

From there we went for coffee to the Gendarmen-markt Platz, around the corner from our hotel. We sat outside. The sound of a street musician was wafting over to our table. He was playing the Mozart Clarinet Concerto. Live clarinet playing with a recorded orchestra accompaniment. He sounded terrific. And it was a special moment as it always is when that concerto is heard.

After coffee, we passed a church. A concert was about to start. Four french horns--the Berliner Horn Quartett--playing Bach fugues. Did we go? Yes, we did.

Was that enough music for one day? No. At eleven o'clock at night  we returned to the Komische Oper Berlin. This time we did not sit in the audience. We sat on stage facing the empty audience and the  amber lit, gold leafed theater interior. Forty of us were on stage--the Orfeo sets surrounding us--and a string quartet played Mozart to us from a dozen feet away with baroque bows and strings of dried animal gut. We turned back the hands of time. The music was new. We were guests of the prince in his elegant, gilded room being serenaded by his musicians playing the music written for his pleasure by his court composer.  What could top that?

How about a lunch concert in the atrium of the Berlin Philharmonic Concert Hall. Ninety minutes before the free trio concert the audience was lined up outside in the cold. When the doors opened they poured in. A flood of people. Hundreds and hundreds.  As many people as there were square feet in the atrium, it seemed. Filling every chair and balcony and stairway. Sitting on the floor and standing anywhere there was space available. It was a lively process. When the music began--Clarinet, cello and piano--there was a hush of quiet and stillness. It was a rapt audience. Soaking up music as if it were needed therapy. Was that enough music for us? No.

That same night we returned to the Hall for an evening orchestra concert. It was the orchestra of the Deustche Staatsoper (German State Opera) having a night out from the pit. Their theater from the late Eighteenth-Century is closed for renovation. For this concert they were using the Berlin Philharmonic's home. It is a famous space, noted for it's great sound and for the audience seats which encircle the orchestra entirely. I expected it to enjoy it. But I more than enjoyed it. It is a sound that is resonant, vibrant, clear, warm and it seduced me thoroughly. Of course, the orchestra had a role in the seduction, as did the conductor, Michael Gielen, and the compositions--Berlioz's Romeo and Juliet, Ravel's Scheherazade, Beethoven Symphony No. 8--but the star of the night was the symphony hall. I was elated and satisfied and impressed with the bounty of great music.

Music is a good reason to visit Berlin.

Marlow and Wes
18-23 October 2012
Berlin, Part One
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17 October 2012 Basel, Switzerland

17 October 2012

Basel, Switzerland


We were in Basel for twenty-four hours. Our purpose was to visit, Raul, from Maryland. He was there for a concert. We visited with him for a part of an evening which included his sound check in the theater.  He is an impressive musician. Great technique, charisma, an easy-on-the-ear voice, singing about life through his songs. He sounded as great as ever. We last saw him in Barcelona, three weeks ago, with Kathleen, his wife. We went together to Set Portes, the great Catalan restaurant. Before that, we were with them December 2011 in Paris for his wife's birthday. On that trip we took nephew Chris with us to introduce him to the joys of Paris, travel and uncles.  But back to Basel.

In Basel we stayed across the street from the train station. Often, that would be a scary location. But this is Switzerland. Their train stations are not scary and the locale was great. And the St. Gotthard Hotel was first-rate. It has been run by the same family since 1929. The current generation went to a highly regarded hotel school in Lausanne and is on site, with their parents, to keep everything as it should be.

This is our second city in Switzerland. So far, it seems a very affluent country. The prices are very high. People are generally well dressed, the streets are clean and the train stations are very well maintained, user friendly and free of artful dodgers.

We wandered through Basel on foot in the morning after breakfast in the hotel which was an impressive buffet. It is set up in a large pine-wood paneled room. With chandeliers and leaded glass windows. The furniture is wood fitted with iron. Substantial and hefty. To eat, there were eggs scrambled with cheese, cranberry compote and cut fruit for the plain yogurt. Rich smoked salmon.  Breads with flavor and texture to slather with butter and jam, particularly the kirsche--cherry--jam.

Well fed and with two hours before our train to Berlin, we walked the old town area. In the Münster Platz we visited a large and old church. One thousand years ago when a person of importance died, a life size statue of their likeness was created as a lid for their resting place. Usually with their feet against a dog and a nice tasseled pillow under their head, all done in stone. A man in full armor with his sword. A woman in a fine dress with flowing tresses or hair wrapped with strands of pearls or topped with a tiara. This church is rich with these carved lids. On display are intricately detailed ones from the thirteen-hundreds. And there are some, quite worn, from the year 900. Underneath the altar platform is a smallish chapel with stone columns and iron grill doors that open into an ancient basement. Through the iron grill you can see on-going archaeological digs that are yielding even more ancient materials.

The church is fronted by a cobble stone plaza, a platz. Part of the platz is occupied by parallel rows of poplar trees. A shady glade to sit in on a warm day. On the backside of the church is the Rhine River. To walk across the bridge takes only a few minutes. Or you can take the ferry that constantly crosses back and forth. Spanning the river is a taut metal cable. The ferry, with a rudder but without a  motor, is tethered to the overhead cable and uses the power of the Rhine's strong current to move itself from one side to the other. It is fantastic to watch this old fashioned solution. Not solar, not gas, not electric powered.  Just the harnessed power of the strong fast current.
Now, for the seven-hour train journey to Berlin. To the north and to the east.

Marlow and Wes
17 October 2012
Basel, Switzerland
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