I’ve been taking cello lessons with two other adult students for eight months or so.  Our teacher (and another one) have arranged a concert for at least 25 student cellists on May 25 at the awesome St. Michael’s Church in Gent.

I get to be in an orchestra!

We had  our first rehearsal last night.  For me … it was a disaster.  No exaggeration. 

But even as we finished, I was smiling.  It’s been so long.  As a teenager, I played in my high school orchestra – strings, brass, woodwinds and percussion.  I belonged.

Before, during and after the rehearsal I looked around the room.  So many of us, with our cellos and bows and sheet music.  Most of the players were young (kids, teens, early adults).  Other than me, I’d say the oldest cellist was about 40.

(By the way, this photo isn’t us.  I got it off the Internet)

As poorly as I played, all my problems were outshined by the joy of playing with other musicians.  I’m where I need to be.

Here’s a list of my challenges, which I can feel dimming even as I tap:

1.  There were six short pieces, including one that I found really difficult.  So I focused on practicing that one, pretty much ignoring the other five.  Bad decision!  I got all sorts of notes and rhythms wrong.

2.  My bow had been damaged and I’d got a new one recently from my music store.  It’s important to put rosin on the hairs so that they’ll stick a bit to the strings.  I thought I’d applied lots of rosin but halfway through the practice it had worn off.  The bow sliding on the strings essentially means NO SOUND. 

3.  The group of us was divided into four sections, each playing different notes and rhythms from the other three.  I sat beside a friendly young man who was playing different notes than me.  I couldn’t hear “my group” of cellists!

4.  Often I couldn’t absorb how quickly the conductor wanted the piece to be played.  So I got lost a lot, sitting with the bow on my lap till I figured out where we were.

5.  I wear a splint on my thumb because of arthritis.  Without it, I can’t hold the bow for longer than five minutes.  The splint rested securely on my thumb last night but after about forty minutes the digit weakened – and so did the sound.  Plus there were eighty minutes to go!

6.  All the conductor’s instructions were in Dutch.  “Of course.  That’s the language in this part of Belgium.  You expected English?”

***

A perfect storm of problems

And a bright sunny day of musical togetherness

There’s a castle in the middle of Gent, constructed around 1180.  A rich and mean guy had it built.  He wanted to lord it over all the little people he could see in the streets below.  He was a knight, happy to run others through with his blade, and torture them if they did something wrong.

On the outside, Gravensteen looks sedate:

Jagger and I went exploring.  A little part of me felt like a voyeur.  What actually happened in the torture room?  But I was looking for happier stories.

Such as provided by school groups …

Young hearts shared the room with suits of armour, and weapons of all types – all designed to conflict maximum damage.  I lifted my head from the display cases to the eyes of the children.  I found a home there.  There were glances between friends, hands being held, and animated tour guides creating wonder in fresh minds.

A collection of drawings hung on a stone wall, so gentle until they were inspected more closely:

I won’t go into detail.  The bottom line is that if you slandered someone, stole from them, abused a woman or printed counterfeit money, punishment was swift and brutal.

A tour guide brought a group of kids to the centre of a room.  She asked them to join hands, and then a simple song and dance:

I sang along and moved my feet.  Such sweetness surrounded by the history of such pain.

Another room, an infamous one.  This was a place of interrogation.  The potential criminal sat immobile because moving would hurt so much.  Then question after question.

Friends and family of the accused were allowed into the room to cheer the person on, so that he or she would not be alone through the ordeal.

One man was questioned for eight days, with a frequent replenishment of supporters.  His friends would not let him die.  Finally the metal noose was removed and he was set free.

***

Initially I said no to having an audio guide

but I’m glad I changed my mind

There was so much to learn … and feel

Moments of serendipity came upon Jagger and me in Barcelona.  We found ourselves in spots of brightness.

Take a narrow, twisting street with balconies overhead.  Add a group of folks wall-to-wall, following the flow of drums.  Add two Canadians.  And you have this:

I tried sending the video but it didn’t work.  Strangely a few days ago, in a post called “Barcelona Begins”, everything was fine.  So you can see it there.

Even in the photo, I bet you can hear the music and feel the energy.

***

And now more stumbling.  Jagger and I came to a small square.  Lots of colourful people were filling the place.  Some had red shirts, some blue, purple, green.  Every shirt had a little embroidered badge, which I couldn’t see well.

I sat on a bench and started talking to an old fellow – he speaking Catalonian, me English.  We smiled a lot.  Jagger went off to buy a bandana.

Excitement was building.  Something cool was going to happen and I wasn’t going to miss it.

The clock struck 12:00.  Three blue folks entered the square to applause.  They were piled on top of each other.  Then the same for the other “teams”.

Soon the pièce de résistance … human pyramids.  Ten or more men and women extended their arms to the middle and grabbed each others’ hands.   Three burly guys got on top.  Then layer after layer of human beings, each standing on shoulders below.  Finally the kids, with one bambino or bambina at the top of it all.

As the little one soared …

Thunderous applause!

***

O Barcelonians … you’re so alive

It’s airport time again.  I finally have the energy to do some writing.  So here are two experiences from yesterday.

***

It was quiet in the morning in Barcelona Cathedral.  I’m happy that Jagger too feels the wonder of sacred spaces, whether it’s a church or someone’s laundry hanging from a high balcony.

Yesterday, I posted six photos of the cathedral that for me capture the spirit of the place.  There was vastness in the sanctuary, a soft light, silence.

A curving walkway went behind the altar, and back there this is what I saw:

Whether you’re a Christian or not, we can all feel the pain of the man.  I stared upwards.

And upwards again …

***

And then there’s Part Two of my reminiscing!  Why the exclamation mark, you ask?  It’s a funny story.

Some of us in the Evolutionary Collective have taken on a heightened responsibility.  We’ve agreed to be at certain meetings on Zoom, unless there’s an emergency.  And a vacation in Barcelona doesn’t qualify!

I had a choice yesterday.  Come online at 5:00 pm for an hour … or show up at 2:00 am.  Since most of our members live in North America, the times are most friendly for them.

While Jagger was exploring the Gaudi beauty of Park Guell, I went searching for a place that (1) had Internet and (2) was quiet.

Google Maps pointed me to a “park” but when I entered a custodian waved me away.  “Privato!”

I roamed the streets and found a kids’ park.  Didn’t meet the “quiet” requirement.  But just down the path was an empty dog park.  Perfect.  I sat and waited for 5:00.

At 4:50, here came a dog and their owner.  He was calm … actually both of them.

But then, at maybe 4:57, as I was already online for the meeting, a second dog reared its lovely head.  Now the barking!

I was on mute as the teacher started talking and some participants were sharing.  But I knew the time would come when I’d be paired with one person or two for a practice.  I smiled at the possibilities.

By the time I unmuted, six dogs were flying around the small park, chasing each other and making their presence known verbally.  I explained the situation to my partners.  They too smiled.  “A dog just blasted by my left foot!”

When the meeting ended, the dog count was down to two … and a fine time was had by all.  Now I’m laughing.

***

On to tomorrow and more Barcelona memories

Again the end of the day leaves me yearning for rest.  And so photos without captions greet you.  The first six have Jagger and me out and about in Barcelona and the second six reveal the beauty of the city’s cathedral.

Over the next few days, I plan to repeat some pictures and tell you about the moments I felt.

But not tonight.

Will I ever have the energy to write words again?  Maybe tomorrow.

Until paragraphs return to my finger, here are the photos of today that shine for me:

I’m so tired at the end of our Barcelona day.  I don’t have the oomph to say funny things, tender things … any things.

This city is shocking, alive, musical, joyous.

Here are a few photos and one rockin’ video!

Until tomorrow …

Take a look at the business card in Jagger’s hand.  We went for breakfast at Jagger’s on the Vrijdagmarkt.  Franky, one of the owners, took the picture.  He said that “jagger” means an old person with a zest for life.  So … someday Jagger will be a jagger!

So many folks joined Franky today in welcoming my nephew to Gent:

1.  Tiberieu at The Cobbler, offering us a free glass of champagne.

2.  Yanisha at The Cobbler, writing down suggestions for what to see in Barcelona.  We fly tomorrow!

3.  Harm at Arpeggio Music.  He’s the one who rented me a cello a year ago and encouraged me to enroll in the Poel music school.  (I did!)

4.  Darlene, the owner of Café de Poel, who said she would welcome us at her café after we return from Spain.

5.  Some Poel employee, who opened the door of the school on a bank holiday so we could sit in the courtyard and listen to a soprano stretching to reach the notes of a piece she’s learning.

6.  The mom and pop owners of Café Folklore, who have been serving good Belgian beer for forty years.

7.  Anna, the MC for the open mic sessions at Minard, stopping us on the street to say hi.

8.  Arjen, a barista at IZY Coffee, waving at us through the window of my cappuccino home.

9.  Dirk, my neighbour downstairs, ushering us into his apartment resplendent with raucous colours.  He filled us with coffee and chocolate.

10.  And … as Jagger and I were walking to our dinner restaurant on the Sleepstraat, there sat Lie and her husband at a table on the sidewalk.  She also works at The Cobbler.  Her smile to both of us said it all.

***

It’s so true …

There is love in the world

It’s closing in on midnight and I’d love to tell you about our day.  My eyes, however, are slowly sinking in the west.

I could launch into “We did this and this and this … and that” but it would be boring.  Tiny uninspired paragraphs.

No, I’ll focus on one happening.

I was surprised that yesterday Jagger said he wanted to go into a church.  Today was the day.

St. Bavo’s Cathedral is huge and echoey.  We walked in.  An airport-like stretch of straps and stands prevented us from exploring the sanctuary.  There was a Mass going on, and the pews were two-thirds full.

After a few minutes of onlooking, I asked a volunteer if we could sit down among the faithful.  He smiled and said yes.

This was my view:

The vaulted ceiling, the soft light through the windows, the statues imbued with grace … all was here.

The Bible readings flowed in Dutch, as did the words of the head priest.  Then he began to sing, interspersed with we the congregation responding in song.  His baritone voice carried me away.  His presence reached the nooks and crannies of the church.  I was taken.

In front of me sat a family of seven – mom, dad, three young girls and two young boys.  I stared.  There were soft moments of eye contact mom/daughter, dad/daughter and sister/sister.  One would touch another and the second would respond in kind.

One redheaded girl sat nestled into her dad’s chest.  You can just see a bit of her hair.  She often had her hand resting on his back.  I sat loving them all.

As the service ended, the priests and assistants walked slowly down the middle aisle.  The head priest made eye contact with nearby parishioners, accompanied by many smiles.

The family was standing to leave.  I paused beside mom and said …

I love to see the love in your family

Her eyes glistened and she put a hand on my shoulder

All was right with the world

Jagger got up yesterday in Western Canada at 4:00 am his time to catch a plane.

I got up today in Belgium at 4:30 am my time to catch a bus and a train.

We’ve spent the last hour (7:30 till 8:30 pm my time) … sleeping.

In between the adventure has begun.

I made it to the Arrivals gate at Brussels Airport by 7:40 am, just as Jagger’s plane was touching down. 

As he was going through Customs and gathering his luggage, I watched the flow of humanity passing before me.  All shapes, sizes, cultures, races, ages, energy levels and personalities of human beings.  Some alone and some together, some adored by loved ones and some invisible.

One tiny boy carried by papa saw the waiting eyes of grandma and fell into her arms.  There was a connection between the two that began ten metres away.

Minutes later, a young man of 20, who lives near the foot of the Rocky Mountains, was hauling his green suitcase towards me.

We hugged.  We smiled.  We remembered past good times.  It’s been nearly two years.

Jagger was quiet as old Brussels and then the emerald fields of rural Belgium unwound before us from the train.  And then some stunning architecture from the bus in Gent.

The morning bustle of walkers, cyclists and delivery trucks greeted us on the cobblestones of my street – the Oudburg. 

I wondered what my young friend was thinking.  This was all new to him.

But first things first: Jagger falling asleep in my guest bedroom and me working on Dutch for an hour-and-a-half.

Today we wandered the streets.  We sipped the beer.  We perched ourselves near the top of the Belfort (a medieval tower completed in 1380) listening to the carillon music coming through the ceiling and gazing out at the magnificence of the city.

And then Juicy Lucy burgers at ‘t Koningshuis, only steps from my apartment.

***

(Sigh)

Now even my fingers are tired.  And so …

Goodnight