Saturday and Sunday

Well, the last couple of days have been, shall we say, interesting.  On Saturday I got up and had breakfast, then met with my new friends from Finland and Greece to listen to the first part of the final round.  We trekked down to the Cathedral, we you can see from our hotel room (there are already pictures of the outside of the cathedral on the blog).  The inside of the cathedral is also nice, but it is clear that the original German architecture has been covered with white paint.  The building does not function as a cathedral – it is now a concert hall, meeting space, museum, etc.  It is also the burial place of the philosopher Kant. The organ is a fairly large Schuke (German builder).  A much nicer instrument to play on (I would imagine) and listen to (most definitely) than the Rieger-Kloss.  We take our spots in the nave and listen.  The pews are interesting – the backs of the pews slide forwards and backwards so that you can either face the former altar area or the organ in the back – very cool.

We listen to 2 competitors, then decide we are too hungry and our butts hurt too much from those hard, German pews (ha!) to listen any longer.  One can only listen to so much organ music in a span of time, and the Tariverdiev pieces, which in this round were a good 15 minutes long per movement, demand quite a bit.  So my new Greek friend and I went off to find lunch and amber.  Amber is a stone that is fairly common and inexpensive here in Russia, but very expensive in the rest of the world.  We had a good time getting to know each other and talking about life – I nice way to unwind after a stressful week.  We happened to run into Vera, the competition organizer, while we were out and about – she is the widow of Mikael Tariverdiev.  During our conversation she made a point to tell me several times to make sure that I attended the closing ceremony.  Yes, ma’am.  My new Greek friend told me that of the 15+ prizes the competition gives out, a few of them are awarded to people who do not make the final round.  I suddenly became a bit more interested in the rest of the competition…

We made it back to the Cathedral in the evening to hear the rest of the final round which ended around 9:00 pm then hurried off to find dinner before the results were announced.  We went to one of our “usual” places – Kruassan, which is right by the hotel.  We scarfed down our food and then went as fast as we could back to the cathedral.  This was a challenge, as it was the eve of Kaliningrad’s birthday and the streets were PACKED.  It was like Times Square.  There were lights on the telephone poles, children with painted faces, lots of beer bottles littering the streets…all evidence of a good time had, in the process of having, and that will be had.  We’ll have to see what the city looks like tomorrow morning.

We get back to the cathedral to hear the results.  As usual, there is always some element of surprise in the finals of a competition.  We had already decided who we thought should win, of course, and what order the competitors would come in.  One of the fortunate/unfortunate traits of being a musician is that we are HYPER critical of not only ourselves but of those around us.  It’s really not out of meanness.  It’s just that we spend so much time in college and grad school learning how to properly analyze music and how to interpret and, if your teacher is good, how to critique yourself and those around you so that you can learn from it.  It’s impossible to turn this off – trust me.  It’s one of the reasons I never go to concerts “for fun”.  Back to the story – the jury president announces that they have decided NOT to give a first place prize – what???  This is not all that unusual, but we were all certainly surprised, and I would imagine the competition organizers weren’t happy about it.  Usually this happens when they feel the playing was not of a high enough caliber – it sends a message about the expectations of quality and also the prestige of the competition.  They decided to award a 2^nd place prize, two 3^rd place prizes and 3 diplomas.  AND we all predicted the winners incorrectly, but not by much.  This, of course, gives us much fodder to talk about later on.  After this was finished, we were instructed to go to the organ loft to take pictures.  I was surprised that the rest of the competitors were not in attendance – I think there were only 5 or 6 present of the remaining 13 competitors who did not make the final round.  Strange.  We get up to the loft and Vera calls me over to come into the picture.  This didn’t seem appropriate to me, as I was a lowly reject from the second round.  However, she proceeded to push me to the front of the picture and made me stay there.  Yes, ma’am. I then stepped aside as they took pictures with the finalists, jury, etc.  Now I am even MORE intrigued.  At this point it was pretty late and we went back to the hotel and crashed.

Sunday rolled around pretty quickly, and we had a completely free day to ourselves until the closing ceremony at 6.  I shopped around town to kill time.  I’m really not that much of a shopper - there just wasn’t much else to do.  I eventually got back to the hotel, took a short nap (bad habit which will be kicked immediately when I get home) and changed into something more appropriate for the ceremony.  In a short matter of time I would regret not brushing my teeth again.

I arrive at the cathedral and it is PACKED.  When we walk in, the usher sees our competition badges and instructs us to go up to the stage and join the jury panel and the rest of the competitors.  Yikes!  Front and center!  We cram in the area prepared for us, and the ceremony begins.  There are a lot of awards to give out by a lot of different people.  It was kind of fun, actually.  Like the Academy Awards.  Almost all of it is done in Russian, so Olga (one of the competitions assistant and a great new friend) translates as she sits next to me.  Then the MC gets up and says something.  People start looking at me.  Olga says, “Nicole it’s you.”  I said, “Really?  Did they same my name?” Two women get up to make a presentation, and I stand at the back of the stage, pleasant expression on my face, erect posture, waiting to hear my name with a thick, Russian accent.  One woman begins speaking in English, which is quickly translated into Russian by another.  I can’t really understand either, as they are over-miced in such a live space.  I hear my name, and I begin to walk forward.  But then the other woman starts talking in Russian so I stop.  Then I hear my name at the end of the Russian speech and people start to applaud.  I walk forward and receive a large diploma and a bouquet of flowers.  I say thank you, bow to the audience, and take my seat again.  Needless to say, I have no idea what I’ve just one.  The whole evening was like that, actually – the 2^nd place winner was German, and one of the 3rd place winners was French – neither of them spoke Russian.  They both received several awards without knowing what they were until someone translated for them when they took their seats again.  It was quite funny.  Anyway, I get back to my seat and read the award.

Oh.  My.  God.  I couldn’t believe it.  A recital in Astana???  I didn’t even know exactly where that was and I was told later that Astana is an exotic place even for Russians.  A CD recording???  This fills me with dread, as I HATE making recordings – all those perfectionist tendencies come out – but still cool.  $3000????  Bitchin.  I sat through the rest of the ceremony with a silly grin on my face, dazed and amazed.  I REALLY did not play well.  But perhaps my performance in Kansas was still on some people’s minds.  Who knows, at and this point in the evening, who cares.  I’m running with it. 

The ceremony ends, and we are told that there will be a reception at Hotel Chaika.  We all walk to the nice chartered bus (best ride in the competition so far) and head to Chaika, where the jury has been housed.  WONDERFUL hotel, very pretty lobby with an incredible spread of food laid out for us, including a good selection of wine and Armenian cognac – smooth, but strong, baby.  We all enjoyed ourselves, and with the free wifi in the hotel lobby I was able to Skype the hubby and give him the news.  Very cool.  Winning something is never fun unless you have someone to share it with.  I also managed to get comments on my playing from two of the judges – nothing was a complete surprise.  I know all the things I did wrong, and the things I should have thought about in my practice.  What I didn’t know was that my registration really did not work well.  Part of it was the instrument itself, but it’s my job to make it sound better than it is when necessary.  Epic fail on that side of things.  At any rate, I need to stop skipping steps in my practice and be a bit more disciplined…I will ponder how to do this on the plane ride home.

After a fun night at the reception with more than a few competitors becoming very happy with drink, we were driven back to the hotel.  It was late, and I was tired but wired.  I was still amazed at what I had won, and I was wondering how I would get that diploma back to the states unharmed – I’m sure it will get mangled in the suitcase, and the flowers are definitely not going to make it past border patrol.  Ah, well, small details…off to bed!  

I turned the tv on to help me nod off and was greeted by 9/11 coverage – it was all too easy for me to forget, being out of the country, the significance of the date.  I was drawn into it of course, as it is still difficult to imagine that something so horrific actually happened.  I forced myself to turn it off after a while, as I’d have no prayer of sleeping, and it was already almost 2 am.  I was glad I watched it – it made me even more appreciative of my life and the richness in it.  I have experienced a lot of life in my short time on earth so far – happiness, disappointments, surprises and tragedy.  You have to have all of it – you will never fully appreciate the good things and peaks of life if you have not experienced that bad things and the valley of shadow.  I think that’s what fuels artists and musicians – both the creators and interpreters.  So much of our lives is injected into our music.  Music tells a story, whether it’s your story or someone else’s story.  If we can’t get that across to the listening audience, you might as well just get off the bench.  Lots to think about tonight.

So, I write all these recollections as I wait in the hotel lobby on Monday morning to go to the airport, the Russian version of Law and Order playing on the flat screen in the background – fascinating.  This trip has twisted and turned in ways that I could never have imagined, and I am incredible grateful for it.  And grateful that I could share it with you people – makes the road a lot less lonely.  I’ve appreciated all your comments and encouragement – much needed, very helpful and at times, amusing.  And I will always be surprised at some of the mundane details of my travels that you find so intriguing…So, unless something insane happens on the way home I’ll sign off, cause this will be my last post from Russia.

With Love,

Nicole

Thursday and Friday

After drowning sorrows with fellow competitors on Wednesday night, I woke up on Thursday feeling a little better about things.  Distance is a good thing – can’t have perspective without it.  I decided to head to the hall in the morning and listen to some of the remaining competitors.  I heard the first three, and thought I would die if I had to hear the BACH motive ever again.  But of course, I would!  Then I hit the coffee house for lunch and headed back to the hotel room for a little relaxation (translation – nap).  I did not sleep well on the night before – could be the vodka, could be all the thoughts running through my head.  Probably a combination of both.  These types of experiences always make me ponder my life and its direction.  I always ask myself, how will my life be different after this experience?  After all, what’s the point of putting yourself through it if you aren’t willing to be changed by it?  

Nap – check.  Back to the hall.  There are only 3 competitors left to listen to, and I’m sure the judges are just as tired of listening to these pieces as the rest of us are.  I heard some good performances, including the one guy from Estonia who played just fantastically – I smell a winner.  After all had performed, we were told that the results would be announced in an hour.  We left the hall en masse and headed to the coffee shop.  I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and I treated myself to a chocolate croissant and coffee for dinner.  Yum.  As we were walking out of the coffee house, we ran into the rest of the competitors who happened to be sitting in the other room!  So we joined them.  The Good Assistant was there, and after an hour was up she called the hall and found out they were still counting.  So we had some time to veg.  One of the interesting things in this competition is that the common language is English.  In all my other international experiences, the common language between competitors, judges, etc., has always been German.  Most of the people here who speak English speak it very well – something the US needs to work on.  I think kids should learn to speak another language fluently while they are growing up – thy may not end up using it, but you develop another set of learning skills that go along with it.  Yet, I digress…We chat nervously amongst ourselves before we head back to the hall.  It’s after 9:00, so it’s dark out and we are walking down streets we wouldn't even dare venture down in the US, even if we were in a group of 15+.  But that’s Russia, for you.  

We arrive at the hall and settle into the auditorium.  They’re still counting!!! This is excruciating!  We wait, but only because we have to.  Finally, the judges appear.  The air is tense, and everyone is sitting up straight in their chairs.  There’s the obligatory speech from the head judge about how hard the judging process was, and how it took them so long because they are musicians, not mathematicians, and they can only add up to 7 or so.  Ha ha ha, get on with it.  This is all announced in English with a Russian translation trailing behind.  The jury president announces the 6 names of the people going on to the final round, and we are all listening intently to hear our names butchered in his German accent (incidentally, he speaks fantastic English).  Alas, my name was not called.  It wasn’t a complete surprise, and I had already prepared myself for it.  We congratulated the winners, and the 3 of us from the US had a brief discussion with the one judge from the US.  Then we all gathered on the stage for a photograph and headed back to the hotel for a stiff drink. 

 

Our Vodka choices….

It was raining, so we took the bus back.  We were all filled with relief and disappointment – relief that the waiting was finally over, and we knew what the results were.  Disappointment that we were not the Chosen Ones.  The 3 of us had drinks at the hotel with our new friends – one from Finland (she’s actually Russian – from Belarus, to be exact) and the other from the Czech Republic.  They were very fun to hang out with, and I had a lot in common with them.  The woman from Finland is the same age I am, and we shared stories of the difficulties of practicing while working full time and being distracted by daily life.  Our Czech friend is a good 10 years younger and is working on a degree in chemistry while studying organ.  Adequate practice is also a challenge for him.  The vodka loosened us up a bit, and I had a good time listening to the two of them talk about life in their countries.  By the end of the night, we were being schooled on how to properly pronounce Dvorak (the “r” is supposed to be pronounced with a sound that’s a combination of a French “r” and the word “je”) – I just couldn’t get it.  Czech is a difficult language!  And he manages to speak it with a French accent…fascinating.  

Well, that experience was finally over.  I was disappointed, of course, but knowing exactly why I did not play well actually helped – not enough practice, and not enough of the right type of practice.  One of the hardest things about these competitions is that you do not get much time on the performance instrument – you must be able to adjust to the console and the action immediately or you’ll never feel comfortable.  That’s something we are somewhat lazy about in the US.  When we play recitals, we generally have the luxury of more than ample time to prepare a program.  This is not the norm in the rest of the world.  What I should have done to prepare is fling myself across the city to play on a number of different instruments with limited time to prepare.  I knew this, and yet did not do it.  Why don’t we do the things we know we need to do?  You have to be willing to go the extra mile in order to really excel.

Our consolation prize is a pretty cool one – a trip to the Baltic Sea.  We got up in the morning and boarded a bus to the Baltic with the jury.  Many people took the opportunity to grill the jury about their performances.  Most of them had brought their comment sheets with them, but of course the two people I asked had not.  That’s ok – today was for relaxing and besides, I was still in my philosophical mood, contemplating what I was really put on this earth to do.  For a while there, I thought I already had that figured out, but I’m not so sure anymore.   

After about 90 minutes we arrive at a place called the Curonian Spit.  It’s a slim tract of land in between the Baltic and a lagoon. We got off the bus and walked into a place called the Dancing Forest.  Because of the wind and some other factors, many of the trees have grown in some very strange ways.

 Pretty cool.  We get back on the bus to head to the Baltic.  It’s an incredibly windy day, and when we finally make the trek through the trees to the beach, the wind is whipping around us fiercely, but the view is spectacular.

This was really astounding.  I kept mentally picturing where we were on a map and thought, what a privilege.  Who knows if I’ll ever get back here ever again.  I walked the beach a bit and just closed my eyes and smelled everything I was seeing.  The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was mesmerizing.  I knelt down and waited for the next wave to come close enough for me to put my hands in the water.  It was cold, but I let it wash over my bare skin and over my shoes.  Very cool.

We head back to the bus for lunch – we’re STARVING cause it’s almost 3:00!  We arrive at a little restaurant very close to the shore and sit down to eat a traditional Russian meal.

 When we sit at the table, I notice a pitcher of a dark brown liquid that is carbonated.  Wow, a pitcher of Pepsi, I thought.  Perfect – my blood sugar had already tanked.  We poured some in our glasses, and the minute I lifted it towards my face to sip, I realized it smelled different.  Not Pepsi!  “I think this is beer!”  No beer!  It’s a drink called Quas (sp?) – a traditional Russian drink made from bread.  Bizarre.  Interesting flavor. The rest of the meal consisted of a light slaw made from cabbage and carrots, and a cold salad of pickled cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes.  Yum.  Then they brought out crocks of what seemed to be chicken noodle soup with pieces of potato in it.  A little bland, but good.  The main course was some type of fish with cheese melted on top (I could see all those food network chefs just freaking out – fish and cheese is a big no-no!), chicken, rice and potatoes.  A feast!  We ate well, spent some time socializing with our new friend Olga who works for the competition, then headed back to the hotel.  All in all, a great way to spend the day, and I was glad I had the opportunity to see the Baltic up close.  In all honesty, though, I would rather have been at the cathedral practicing for the final round…

The rest of the evening was pretty low-key – went to the mall to Skype the hubby, met some new friends at the coffee shop for dinner (I had another chocolate croissant for dinner tonight!) then came back to the room to veg.  Two more days in Russia – we’ll spend a good portion of the day tomorrow listening to the final round, then the closing ceremony on Sunday.  Looking forward to shopping around town tomorrow – I’m never very good at buying gifts for others, and I’m even worse at getting things for myself while I’m away.  We’ll see if I can break that trend tomorrow…

And I would be remiss if I did not take the opportunity to thank you all for the incredible support – all your notes of encouragement meant the world to me!  I look forward to sharing more with you when I get back stateside.

More later…

Wednesday – D-Day (I know, I skipped Tuesday – maybe I’ll come back to it later…)

Program:

Bach Prelude and Fugue in G, BWV 550

Böhm Partita: Wer nur den lieben Gott

Tariverdiev Concerto No. 3

Liszt Weinen, Klagen, Zorgen, Zagen

You know they’re coming.  They come every time, and yet you still react the same way.  They lurk around the corner; they lie in wait behind the door to the green room; they skulk on the other end of the phone line.  You even know the first person who will bring them to you.  You musicians out there – you know what I’m talking about:

“So, how’d it go?”  “Did you feel good about it?”  “Are you happy with it?”

“They” are the questions that people always ask after a performance – hell, I ask them myself!  Truth is, I always have a few stock answers ready when I’m not particularly pleased with a performance – sometimes you just have to tell people what they want to hear.  It’s only polite.  But right now I’m going to do something most musicians never do – I’m going to tell you EXACLTY what it feels like after a performance you are none too pleased with.  “Don’t do it, Nicole!”  I can hear people screaming at me now.  No one needs to know the tortured little world we all live in.  Well, not all of us live there.  There are those who have their heads on much straighter than mine when it comes to performing.  I am just a wee bit loony and more than a wee bit OCDC before a performance – just ask the hubby.  

There are indeed times when the performance has ended and I say to myself, “I can’t believe that was over so quickly.  I want to live in those 75 minutes again!”  This, friends, is a minority of the time.  People always say, “Nicole, you’re too hard on yourself”.  Yes, I am.  I have to be.  It’s the only way to continue to improve.  And trust me, I’ve learned over the years to give myself a break or two.  Every once in a while.  Once in a blue moon, when a new Smurf is born.  We all know that the worse competitor you’ll ever face is the one whose reflection stares back at you in the music rack. 

Then, there are those other times…ok, people, here it is.  For the sake of brutal honesty, this post is PG-13:  Nicole’s brain says,”Oh my God, Nicole, what have you done?  You’ve just embarrassed yourself in front of all these people, all these international stars that are judging you.  Isn’t there a back door I can go out?  Did you hear that apologetic applause?  They’re just being nice because they applauded for everyone.  They thought what you just did was appalling.  I know during the Liszt the judges were just waiting for it to be over.  They turned the page of their scores and said, ‘Oh my God, there’s a whole 5 pages left!  Why is she even here?’ How could you even think you could compete with all these people who do nothing but practice?  Why do you put yourself in these situations?  You can’t play all this repertoire while working a full time job (30 hours my #%$!).  You should just stop now.  You’ve reached out too far.  Again.”  These, and many other thoughts, swarm through my head during the performance and for the first 10-15 minutes or so afterwards.  Don’t get me wrong – there are many, many moments of lucid concentration.  There are a plethora of moments of music making at its best – that organic, orgasmic part of being a musician that all performers crave that can only be found on the stage of a concert hall, or wherever you perform.  However, sometimes the strongest ones that remain are the negative ones. 

So you ask, “How’d it go, Nicole?”  

Here’s the deal:  I woke up this morning in a pretty good mental place.  I saw all those wonderful Facebook posts, an email from the hubby and another from a close friend who can relate – that was great stuff.  I was on cloud nine (or is it cloud 7?  We’ll stick with nine – it’s higher).  I was Zen, I was euphoria personified.  This was at 9:30 am.  How, you may ask, will I possibly sustain that until my rehearsal at 3:30 and the CONITNUE through the performance which starts at 6:00?  There’s the rub.  It’s incredibly difficult to sustain that kind of focus throughout the day.  It takes an incredible amount of mental discipline.  It’s one of the reasons I prefer to travel alone to perform solo – I need to be in total control of my environment without any surprise interjections from people.  I can lock myself in my hotel room all day.  I can ignore the cell phone and emails.  I can create my own little world where the only things that exist are the things I want to exist.  This has its own dangers, which I’m sure you can imagine, but at least they would be of my own making, and I only can (and will) blame myself for it in the end.  Chamber music work is a totally different story – that feels more like a big party.  Anyway, I went through most of the day feeling pretty good.  Had breakfast with PBJ, and my new friend from Kansas (she actually is a real person, unlike PBJ, or at least the PBJ that is the little plastic figurine).  Then we went shopping for new umbrellas, as mine died a terrible death earlier this week – the new one is red and very chic!  Then went back to the room for 2 hours of score study and prep.  This all went well.  Feeling great!  The world is mine!

Left for the concert hall – decided to walk, as it would work out all that extra energy we were carrying around.  Feeling alive!  Get to the concert hall and wait for my time to rehearse.  Praise Jesus!  Get to the organ.  My assistant is there – excellent!  I give her the paper to program the organ with (don’t ask).  She sets off to work while I practice the Bach – it’s all where I left it!  We get to the Boehm – feeling good, Billy Ray!  Moving on to the Liszt…Liszt…am I playing Liszt?  What Liszt?  Have I seen these notes before?  Have I played this organ before?  And the walls come tumbling down. 

Lucky for me, I’ve got 2 hours to pick all the pieces of myself up off the floor.  My heart is racing, and I’m grinding my teeth – thank God my dentist isn’t reading this.  I didn’t even get to the Tariverdiev!  Somebody kill me now…I wait in absolute AGONY for my Kansas friend to finish her warmup and we go to a coffee house around the corner to veg for a little bit.  For me, leaving the hall is risky.  Before a performance I don’t feel calm until I get to the hall safely.  There’s always that random possibility of a car accident or something, or the car not starting…whatever.  So I’ve already broken a rule.  We get to the coffee house and I decide what the hell, I need an espresso.  Breaking another rule – no food or anything that really counts as sustenance before a performance.  Never mind that I haven’t eaten since 9:30 or so, and it’s now almost 5.  However the espresso did help calm me, although here I am less than 3 hours after drinking it and my blood pressure is so high I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack.  No more espresso, Nicole!  So I spend a little time there before going back to the hall.  No one has really given me any instruction so I have no idea where I’m supposed to be.  None of the other competitors are waiting in the lobby.  Crap.  They probably had everyone go in at the start of this session.  Whatever, I’m letting that one go.  I sneak in during the person before me, silently cursing my Useless Assistant, as I am calling her now.  I wait just inside the door, freezing my little tuckus off as a draft from outside comes wafting in over me. 

Applause.  It’s my turn.  I walk up the console and give my assistant the paper to program the organ again (really, don’t ask).  She begins this process while I put my shoes on, adjust the bench, and get myself settled.  This feels like an eternity, but is only a minute or so.  I start to program the swell/choir side of the organ, finish, and check her side.  She’s only finished half of it. &^%&#^%~!!!!  I tell her we’ll finish it later – the judges are waiting.  At this point, my fingers have begun to shake a little, and I’ve lost that Zen feeling.  Let’s see if this fun little Bach can get it back (that’s a joke, by the way.  Beginning a program with Bach is only fun when someone else is playing it).  Performing is a tricky thing – sometimes getting into the groove of a piece calms you, and sometimes all that motor activity just makes the jitters worse.  I had a little of both today.  It always takes me a little while to calm down, and today was not different.  The Bach was not as clean as I wanted it to be, and I have no idea if my tempo was anywhere near where I wanted it.  And how is it that only today I noticed the loud ticking of that clock on the console?  This would be a bad thing later on…

So, I finish the Bach.  Thank God that’s over.  Can I get off the bench now?  Of course not.  On to Böhm.  Feeling better about this.  Less mechanism to worry about, can focus more on the music.  I think this one went ok…hard to tell.  But it wasn’t a disaster.  Some nice musical moments.  I avoided the Great for the most part (the bottom manual on this particular organ, whose action feels like crap), so this at least felt better.  On to Tariverdiev, which hasn’t seen a keyboard in days.  These pieces are very minimalist, with lots of space and emptiness to punctuate the actual music.  This is where that clock comes in.  I’m counting one tempo in my head, and the clock is ticking something else in the background.  That’s a battle I did not always win.  No idea how those pieces came off. 

And now, the Liszt…at this point, I’m in “work” mode.  This is when I concentrate less on the emotional, spiritual part of making music and focus more on the “I’ve got this paper to write by 12 noon, so let’s get this done, Nicole” side of things.  This, I know how to do.  I can batten down the hatches and discipline myself through almost any situation.  It’s just not fun, and defeats the whole point of the music.  I tried to be as musical as possible.  Usually when you’re “trying” to be musical you are doing everything but.  This was not pretty, and my Useless Assistant was turning the pages like she was under water.  There was one she didn’t even bother to turn.  I swear she forgot to add a stop or two here and there, so I’m glad I barely gave her anything to do.  I’m screaming at her in my head, and then screaming at myself for almost missing that piston.  The Liszt is is about 12-13 excruciating minutes of pure, unadulterated hell.   Polite applause, get off the bench, slink out of the room.

Truth is, these things are almost never as bad as you think there were.  Almost.  There are those times when it was as bad as you thought and much worse; times when you really should just crawl inside the organ chamber and impale yourself on those tiny mixture pipes, and the cry out in horror, disappointment and self-loathing when you realize those tiny pipes have bent under the weight of your body and yes, you must go on living anyway.  We don’t need to discuss those times – they are what they are and what they will be.  But hey – most of the time, it really wasn’t all that bad. 

But those feelings are for tomorrow.  What did I really want to do after playing?  Break out into tears.  Yes, there it is.  Sorry to disappoint all you people who thing I’m rock solid.  I’m not weak, or a cry baby – it’s that emotions are peaked at frenzy, and it’s the most out of control response the body can give next to screaming.  It’s the body releasing all that “stuff” that you can’t even put into words, that you can’t even understand yourself, let alone explain to someone else.  It’s the release of all that pent up energy you did not get a chance to release during the performance.  It’s the ONLY response.  I wanted to go to the mall, get on wifi, skype the hubby and let it all out.  But I didn’t.  And I’m sure he’s grateful for not having to pick me up off the floor, yet again.  But he’d do it if he had to, cause that’s just Ben.  He’s the real rock.  He’s the bestest.  You should all buy him a drink for having to live with his crazy wife.  Instead, I walked the ½ hour or so back to the hotel – good therapy, thinking about what I would really tell you people when you asked, “So how’d it go, Nicole?”

It’s not that I don’t want you to ask.  It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it.  It’s not even that I don’t want to tell you.  But those first 15-20 minutes after a performance are perhaps the most vulnerable minutes of a musician’s life next to the hour or so before the performance (I don’t know if there’s enough space on the internet to contain an explanation of THAT period of time).    You’ve been stripped bare in front of the world, naked and raw, for everyone to see.  You’ve said everything you believe to be true, not caring who likes it or what the response will be.  You’ve projected your soul out in front of a group of mostly strangers, some friends, and even worse – your colleagues.  You can suspend the horror of it all while the performance is going on, but all of a sudden, it’s over.  The last note is played.  The sound dissipates from the room.  You slowly get off the bench and say to yourself, “What the hell was that?”

So for tonight, I’ve got nothing left, people.  I gave it all at the office.  And this is the way it should be.  If you haven’t given everything you have in the performance, you haven’t done your job.  And I know, deep down, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was.  But the question is, as I sit with my arms wrapped in towels to soothe my pox, dying for the first large cocktail of the evening: was it good enough?

Sunday

Today was a day without a schedule.  Those of you who know me well know the problems that creates for me.  As free and spontaneous as I’d like to believe I am, I absolutely cannot stand long periods of time without structure.  And on Day 4 in Russia, that is what it is beginning to feel like.  

Had a very relaxing and satisfying breakfast at Kopa – damn near perfect, actually.  PBJ and I had French press coffee and a wonderful bowl of oatmeal with bananas and apples mixed in.  I actually closed my eyes and savored with every sip of coffee…I know, that’s sick but today it just tasted better than, well, you know.  PBJ usually doesn’t approve of such thoughts, but he let it go this time. 

Then I headed to the mall (I’m actually tired of going the mall, believe it or not) to meet Chelsea and Simon.  Too bad they were waiting for me at the OTHER mall across the plaza.  So, we spent about 45 minutes trying to find each other before we gave up and I took some time to sit and relax at the fountain in front of the big Orthodox Church on the plaza.

It is Sunday, after all!  And the weather was absolutely perfect.  I hung out and people watched for a while, then decided I needed to start focusing on music.  Imagine.  I put my earbuds in and blasted Shostakovich string quartets in my ears while I watched the Russians play with their children in the open spaces.  I though it only appropriate that this should be accompanied by bold, passionate Russian music.  Love that stuff.  If you don’t know those string quartets YOU SHOULD.

Then I rambled over to the church gift shops, and found a very cool icon store.  An unbelievable supply of beautiful artistry – and lucky me, one of the ladies tending the shop speaks German.  She helped me figure out a few things and make a purchase.  I may be coming back here later this week…

I went back to the hotel to veg for a few before I made another trip to the grocery store.  It’s really hard to shop healthily when you can’t refrigerate anything.  Fruit is a gamble.  Dairy is out of the question.  So you’re stuck with crackers (which they don’t seem to eat) and other “bread-like” things.  This is where the hubby starts breathing hard – bread is his favorite food all day, every day.  If I have a 2 pieces in a week, I’m good.  Anyhoo, I pick out some bread items from the bakery in addition to a few apples, a large container of water and a small bottle of water I can refill from the large one.  I get to the cashier fully realizing that somewhere there is a machine that produces labels for the produce and bread.  It is at this point I tire of not being able to read or say anything in Russian – my own fault, really.  I could have learned the basics before I arrived, but I didn’t’ bother.  Lucky for me, the cashier was nice enough to run through the store and get the stickers for me.  Better come up with another strategy for next time…

I went back to the room to study scores before dinner.  This is something I never take the time to do unless forced, as I am now without a place to practice.  It’s such a vital component of the learning process – it’s amazing I don’t fall on my face in performance more often, really.  I lay on my bed studying, wondering whether or not I have mosquito bites or bed bug bites on my arms, as someone on Facebook suggested today…not comforting, either way.  And of course, when you think there are lots of bugs around you feel all kinds of imaginary pricks and pinches…thank God it’s finally dinner time and I can get out of this room!

Dinner was an excursion of sorts – we looked for a restaurant called “Titanic” – bizarre, really, a restaurant specializing in tradition Russian fare with the theme of a doomed ocean liner all around you.  Irony?  Foreshadowing?  Probably neither, but one of my specialties is finding meaning in things that don’t have any, so there you are.  We actually never found the restaurant – the streets here are hard to follow, in addition to the fact that almost none of them are marked in any obvious way.  So we made our way back towards the hotel and had dinner at the coffee shop where I ate breakfast.  Not bad.  And not a wasted trek either – saw some interesting places to explore on MY NEXT DAY WITHOUT A SCHEDULE.

 The Cathedral where the final round will be

Front of the Cathedral

Competition Poster

Needless to say, I texted my assistant on my new Russian phone to get some more practice time on one of those nice Estonia grands at the Gliere school.  And perhaps, just perhaps, she could get me one of those fancy competition booklets with all the schedule information in it???!!!

Do you feel the restlessness, people?  Patience is not one of my virtues, and this competition seems to be drawing out longer than most.  Usually you barely have enough time to breathe and concentrate.  However, I have a feeling once things get started they’ll be rolling along in a hurry.  I think I’m just reacting to the “Soviet” feeling here – it’s not a pretty town, very grey and dull toned.  There are a couple of pretty views to see but the minute you turn your head you see what looks like projects – old building that have a crumbling look on the outside, but are dotted with balconies of flowers that were obviously put out by people who take pride in the where they live.  Such a dichotomy.  The whole city seems like that – a vibrant, passionate people living in a grey, dull, monochromatic world.  It’s almost as if there’s a whole spectrum of color missing.  Why that feels “Soviet” I don’t know – perhaps it’s a feeling of repression or something…won’t that be fun to ponder tonight?

Think good thoughts, dream fantastical dreams and smell your flowers, people.  What else is there when the color has gone out of the world?  (And don’t worry – I know this sounds depressing, but it’s actually when I do my most creative work, so bring on the practice!)