myownshoes: adventures in authenticity: Wagner & Schumann & Bach, oh my!

Mendelssohn as well, in fact - the number of syllables in his name simply precluded him from the title of this entry. Here I am, on a quick stop in Leipzig, Germany, where, all of these dead composers once lived, and okay, I have to say it right now, I attended an organ concert this afternoon at the church where Bach worked for 27 years as organist and cantor. Yes, that's right. I am a geek, and this absolutely thrilled me. More on that in a few moments...I´ll keep things somewhat organized chronologically with an update on the past few days.

The worst dorm mate EVER. She's coughing, sneezing, and even has a roll of toilet paper on her bedside table so as to facilitate blowing her nose every few minutes. I shared a dorm with her in Munich, and then I became her in Nuremburg. For the first time this trip, I had my next three stops entirely planned out (as hostels in Weimar and Leipzig are apparently busy in late October - who knew?) with deposits paid, and so have had to keep moving, makeshift box of tissues at my side. I promise that my level of activity within each day HAS slowed a bit, and the last several evenings have been spent in the good company of my book, my journal, and many cups of tea. I have been keeping to myself a bit more also, perhaps becoming a bit more introspective as my trip draws to a close, but also feeling apologetic about the cesspool of germs that I currently am. And, I think rightfully so, despite the fact that generally I'm endeavouring to live my life less apologetically these days. "Hi, I'm Liz - from Canada, a music therapist, the one that's about to keep you up all night with my incessant coughing. Can we be friends anyhow?" The good news is that I am definitely on the mend, and I am imagining that by the time I get to Berlin (tomorrow evening), I will be almost as good as new. For those wondering (Alison et al), yes, it's entirely possible that my head cold is a reminder from the universe that I could still learn to slow down a bit more. I had thought of that one too, just so you know. :) Could also be a reality of sharing dorm rooms with strangers. Or a bit of both...

Aside from my trip to Buchenwald concentration camp, which I already wrote about, and my intense sinus headache, I felt very content and at home in Weimar. In fact, I can add it to the list of cities of which I have thought, "I could live here". It has a lively and artsy vibe, and is far less touristy than many of the cities I have visited (I was pleased that not everyone I met could speak fluent English). The Bauhaus movment in art/design/architecture was founded in Weimar (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bauhaus), and some, oh, pretty important folks such as Goethe, Liszt, Bach, Schiller, Luther, Nietzsche (and so on), have lived there through the years. There are quotes from famous philophers/poets painted onto the sides of city buildings, there are more bookstores per capita than any city I have ever been to, and there is a vibrant and creative student presence, owing to the Bauhaus University. After a lazy morning of sleeping in, I spent the afternoon yesterday wandering the city. Bookstores, cafes, and statues of famous dudes aside, my favourite part of Weimar was the gorgeous park that I found along the river, where I sat in the grass beneath a wise old tree with leaves turned a spectacular shade of orange, read, journalled, and felt content.

The perfect tree for reading beneath, Weimar

Incredible colours, Weimar

Famous dudes (Goethe and Schiller), Weimar

Contentment. Last night, as I read Eat Pray Love (and sipped my tea - I am quite a predictable soul these days), Gilbert described herself on the last leg of her journey: "I have never felt less burdened by myself or by the world", and talked about the search for contentment as a "generous gift to the world", getting oneself "out of the way" and thus open to being able to contribute to the world. This is an idea I've thought about a great deal on this trip, sometimes I suppose in response to self-imposed guilt ("With all the suffering that exists in the world, how do I deserve 3 months of self-discovery in Europe?"), but also in true resonance to the idea. I guess we all search for contentment in our own ways, and likely many of these ways are not generous gifts to the world. And, it would seem rather egotistical for me to declare every moment of my journey "a generous gift to the world", as though chowing down on pizza in Naples or hiking in the Swiss Alps was entirely altruistic. Of course it wasn't. But the genuine search for self-knowledge, connection to others, joy, beauty, and yes, contentment that this trip has entailed - I do also believe that this can and will free me up to, when I return to "regular life", contribute more wholly to my work, my world. I wonder the impact on the overall happiness in the world, if we all believed that we were worthy of pursuing our own dreams, and if those of us who are caregivers by nature were to care for ourselves with as much love and generosity as we freely give to others. Perhaps self-indulgence, embarked upon with a certain spirit, can have far-reaching implications. "I have never felt less burdened by myself." Yes, I think this is true for me, right now.

So, yesterday evening I headed to Leipzig, a trip that by fast train takes less than an hour, and by slow/cheap regional train (that's me!) takes less than two hours. I had to make one transfer, in Weißenfels, and hadn't considered the fact that it would be dusk by this time, dark by the time I arrived in Leipzig. I sat down in a train compartment in Weissenfels, on my own, and then was suddenly accompanied by 7 (6 male, 1 female) individuals who I would certainly not want to meet in a dark alley, or, in a train compartment by myself for that matter. There was no one else in sight. It's been a while since I've felt really vulnerable travelling alone, and here I was in a situation where, even if I had had one or two other female friends with me, I would have still been afraid. There is no way in moments like these to hide the fact that I´m a tourist, with my tell-tale giant backpack at my side, and my smaller bag (the one that clearly contains my valuables) on my lap. "Right, but at least they don't know that you're not German", I thought, and then looked at the English copy of Eat Pray Love sitting on my lap. They soo know I can't understand them. I remembered a story that a couple I recently met told me, about how they had been robbed in their train compartment before the train left the station. Breathe. Anyway, I was fine, of course, and was relieved when the train arrived in Leipzig. Also, for all of the worries I had before leaving Waterloo, about what it would be like to be a "solo female traveller", I was reminded to be thankful for how few moments like this I have had.

Perhaps I was still looking through the lense that my train journey provided, but the area around the Hauptbahnhof (train station) in Leipzig is a seedy one. Or perhaps, as I walked out onto the streets of this city that Bach lived in for 27 years, I had imagined that I would hear organ music wafting from every window, stoic Lutheran fathers with no less than twenty-one children gathered at their sides. Something like that. Nope, seedy. My hostel in Weimar was located beside the bakery and the post office. Here in Leipzig, I can purchase any drug paraphenalia that I would like, just next door. Perfect.

Leipzig was quick to redeem itself however, as I walked the short distance from my hostel to the city centre this morning. A grand old city with pompous buildings, bustling with a thriving arts and cultural scene, yes, I can believe that Bach (and Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Wagner) all lived here. I felt this sense of reverence as I entered the Thomaskirche (St. Thomas church), gazed at the stained glass, the columns, the organs (there are two), and the small Bach museum (his tomb is in the building somewhere I believe, but not available for gazing upon). For all of my griping about learning each voice of my fugues separately, or whatever, there I was, standing in Bach's old stomping ground. Unbelievable. As I walked through this church, I thought lots of my dear childhood piano teacher, the woman that instilled a love and appreciation for Bach into me at quite a young age, and wished Leslie could be here with me at this moment. I returned this afternoon to attend an organ recital, where organist David Franke performed a number of works of Bach's, and then one of this own compositions. Granted, I have listened to very little good organ over the years, but this was organ like I have never heard organ before. The crunchy dissonance, the booming lower register that vibrated through the floors, walls, and pews, the variations in timbre, the suspensions that brought me to the edge of my pew, the way that each separate voice of each fugue could be detected so audibly, the regality of this instrument. Ahhh, glorious. The organ that Bach played is no longer here, but in 2000, to commemorate the 250th anniversary of Bach's death, the church had a new organ built called the "Bach organ", intended to be the perfect replication of what Bach would have played and written his music for.


Thomaskirche, Leipzig


Me and J.S. himself

Organ!

Tonight is another lazy kind of night, as I strive to get/stay well, and prepare to head to Berlin tomorrow (where I will stay for 5 nights - I am sooo excited to be staying put somewhere for a bit!). Before I sign off, I will share a few photos from Munich and Nuremburg as well.
Tschüß! xo