The Netherlands

There’s something with runners and us: when we arrived in Amsterdam, the city was overwhelmed by the excitement of a marathon. This was the third marathon we’ve encountered on our trip; we were in Berlin and Bremen during their annual marathons as well.

Navigating through hundreds of runners and spectators in an unfamiliar city is not easy. It took us over an hour to make contact with Martin Wright, our friend and chorus master at Amsterdam opera. And all the while, we were lugging our baggage. Curse you, huge rolling suitcase!!

Amsterdam was sunny and welcoming. We had a blast touring the city with Martin: enjoying Dutch pancakes, passing through the flower market (yes, they do sell ‘grow-your-own marijuana,’ and no, we did not purchase any), marveling at the architecture along the countless canals.

The most exciting part was when Martin offered to take us backstage of the opera house to view the last few minutes of the opera Elektra.

We didn’t know what we were getting in to as we entered through the side doors and made our way through the catacombs of the opera house. Martin took us up hundreds of dark, winding stairs on the side of the stage until we finally made it to the light fixtures. We sat 50 feet above the stage on the catwalk with the stage lights and had the best seats in the house.

The works of Richard Strauss can be disturbing, to say the least, and Elektra is no exception. I was blown away by the mad trilling of the strings (the best place to hear an orchestra is from directly above) as Elektra, having just persuaded her brother to help her kill her mother, screams with wild and deranged passion as she takes the knife in her brother’s hand and stabs herself with it. Wow. Amazing singers, amazing seats, amazing music. Wow.

Re-entering the sun was dizzying, but the rest of our day with Martin passed by cheerfully. We returned to the Amsterdam train station and headed for Rotterdam, where I reunited with my favorite Dutch person in the whole world: Gemmeke.

Gemmeke and I met when I lived in Busingen, where we shared many crazy experiences. I enjoyed reliving them with her as we sat in her flat with hot tea and stropwafels (heaven in a cookie).

We did some typical Dutch things with Gem, including eating lots of bread and sweets, getting hot stropwafels from the market, and riding bikes. Riding bikes was terrifying for Elisa and I and hilarious for Gemmeke.

In Holland, everyone bikes everywhere, so when Gemmeke suggested that we take bikes out to tour Rotterdam for the day, it didn’t cross her mind that Elisa and I are totally inept at such an activity. I was better off than Elisa, having had practice off and on over the years. Elisa hadn’t ridden a bike since she was eight. It took about 15 minutes of Elisa swerving through the streets by Gemmeke’s house and Gemmeke and I yelling, “You’re doing great!” to convince her to actually bike on public roads.

We made it all the way to the Euromast (where we had a great, but windy view of Rotterdam) in one piece, despite running into poles, falling off of our bikes after too-sharp turns, and nearly collapsing with our bikes on top of us every time we stopped. Like I said, more hilarious than a Colin Farrell movie for Gemmeke (though she was still albeit stressed that she would lead her friends to their deaths), and more nerve-wracking than the total anxiety of all our auditions thus far for Elisa and me.

We also accompanied Gemmeke to school for a day. Taking a detour from her medical degree, Gem is doing a semester of African studies. She’s working on her Swahili and preparing to head to Africa for a medical internship in February. Elisa and I got to experience Swahili language and African communication class, where we learned about sign language in Swahili. Taught in English. In a Dutch university.

We had the chance to hang out with Gemmeke's Christian student group in Holland. That was cool: we went to their sort of clubhouse, had dinner, had music and a sermon, and were served beer afterwards. So not Nazarene.

It was awesome to meet some other Dutch people our age and who were interested in real issues. And as usual with Gem and I, the discussions about life plans over coffee were in abundance.

Don't forget the pictures! Photobucket

The Bremen Town Musicians

I’m sitting on a train to Amsterdam, beginning a whirlwind of traveling for the next month and leaving my home of the last five weeks.

Bremen, Germany is an appropriate place for Christian, Elisa and me to have spent our time. The Brothers Grimm site Bremen as home of the famous “Town Musicians:” a donkey, dog, cat and rooster who, too old to continue their work on the farm, flee to Bremen to avoid the fate of too old farm animals and become musicians. The story is much more elaborate than this, but I can’t do it justice—wikipedia.

Mr. Randall Bills (tenor, on extended contract at Opera Theater Bremen) greeted us upon our arrival in Bremen and served as our guide, voice teacher, mentor, and friend (and landlord, in Christian’s case) during our stay. We got an inside look at opera in Germany through Randy.

Three operas viewed, two auditions attended, and several coachings received from Randy and friends definitely qualify us to be counted amongst the Bremen Town Musicians. We learned more than we would have in the same amount of time in grad school while having the opportunity to meet singers from all over the place (many of whom encouraged us to forget America and get our butts to Germany).

Things surely weren’t all business in Bremen, though. We had a lot of free time and were able to leisurely explore the city. The center of town was a ten minute walk away, via the main street or along the Weser River, where Randy and I would often run in the mornings.

Through the center was the Hauptbahnhof (main train station) and beyond that, the Burgerpark. In the Burgerpark, one can buy gelato or coffee, paddle down the streams running through it, visit some friendly pigs and llamas at the petting zoo, or just wander, admiring the trees that are beginning to put on their fall colors.

We met a lot of internationals through our host, Laura. Laura was kind enough to let Elisa and I sleep on her living room floor, as well as introduce us to her friends from France, England, Serbia, and Italy—all engineers whom she met in her German class. (There is a large center for engineering in Bremen...it's something like the second largest Airbus site and has a lot of space companies).

Laura is not an engineer, but an elementary school teacher. We looked forward to hearing stories about her students everyday. My favorites involved the message box installed in her classroom for kids to send private notes to her. These notes included: “Dear teacher, you look gud.” and “Do you lik dogs?” to name a few.

Laura also introduced us to our favorite Bremen haunt: Piano, a café and restaurant where cute rower boys serve you delicious breads, cheeses, meats and whatever else you can imagine to make up the perfect brunch. It was here that I recognized my addiction. To bread. Carb up!

Our other favorite place was Ikea. Ikea is magical, whatever city you may be in when you visit it. It’s the closest thing Europe has to an amusement park, and the food is even better! After walking through dozens of fashionably (and cheaply) furnished kitchens, bedrooms, and bathrooms, we bought our own bag of the infamous Ikea Swedish meatballs to make for dinner that night. Ikea is just the gift that keeps on giving.

Two nights before we left Bremen, Freimarkt began. Freimarkt is like nothing I’ve ever witnessed. It is a carnival in the States times eight hundred thousand. It celebrates the fall and lasts a seventeen days, after which the Christmas markets begin.

Bremen hosts the largest and oldest Freimarkt in Northern Germany. A seemingly inconsequential platz behind the Hauptbanhof is packed with food stands, rides, games, drinking tents and--over the course of these seventeen days--more than four million people. Overwhelming, to say the least, but such a sight to behold and such treats! Bratwurst, candied almonds, huge meat and cheese pretzels, gelato, chocolate apples and bananas and grapes, crepes, and candy comprise just a small amount of the deliciousness available. (Anyone noticing a common theme to my posts? Yeah, I love food, is this a problem?)

As if entering the Freimarkt itself isn’t enough like stepping foot in to another world, there is the Bavarian Tent. Bavaria is a region of southern Germany comparable to Texas: people are wealthy, wish Bavaria could be considered a separate country, and boast accents that the rest of the country mocks.

With enough people to be its own village, the Bavarian tent is loud. Everyone has beer (it’s served by the liter) and everyone is singing along with the band, oom-chucking away German drinking songs (children’s songs?)…all night. I didn’t last very long in the Bavarian tent, but I won’t soon forget it.  

I loved Bremen and hope to make it back soon, but now we’re off. I have to make it through Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Paris, Munich, Florence, Rome, and Geneva in the next three weeks and I am so ready.

Don't forget to visit Photobucket.