Rainy Day Expatriation

Shorter hair and shorter recital dress. Trips to the hair salon and the tailor connected by a walk in England's dreary rainy weather.  And I got a chance to chat with two people in Cambridge with no affiliation to the university.  As I waited for some friends to arrive at the Oz the tailor's to pick me up, I spoke with the Turkish ex-pat for an hour in his small and modest shop while the rain came down.  I felt a new ability to listen that I had earned from my time living so far away from home.  I can't possibly understand what  it must have been like for him to decide to leave his home to avoid the army 15 years ago, to get caught with an illegal passport at Heathrow Airport and spend 3 months  in prison then 3 more years waiting for his asylum to be granted.  I can't understand the change from Turkish to British culture, or living with so little money for so long, or having such little contact with family and friends.  But what little I could understand from my own experience in Japan--of being at such a distance from what is familiar, about the loneliness and isolation that one can have in such a situation--gave me the ears to hear him in a new way.   England gave us the perfect weather for such a chat, with no pressure to leave the shelter we had, in a place so far away from home.  

A Day in Cambridge

This morning I took a walk through the fens, a green pasture area with creeks and bike paths.  A bridge was undergoing maintanence and I had to asked an older gentlemen how to get to Chaucer Road.  "Ah Chaucer road, well yes you see unfortunately that's the way you would go, but I would suggest, I would suggest....," and then he continued in his soft British accent to give me directions of the roads and paths, the forkings and turns that I would need to take to get to Chaucer Road.  I continued along his perfect directions and jogged to my destination to make up time for the diversion (detour).  In my jet lagged state I had scheduled my appointment for a day later, and so found myself with a free morning.  I walked into town, stopping in churches and college gardens, looking into shoppes, and headed down Jesus Lane toward Jesus College in Cambridge.  I got stuck in its gardens and lawns and every path seemed only to lead to a locked gate, a garden shed, a bordering wall.  The gates finally opened when a helpful woman used her badge to electronically unlock them.  I headed back through town and rested for some lunch.

In the afternoon I came back to the apartment where I'm staying to rest and practice.  I sat and watched the sky for an hour as it shifted from one weather front to another, the rain clouds sweeping in, clearing away to sun.  The little back yards of these English row houses and the open field beyond them seem made for open skies of godlike proportions.  

In the evening we went to a pub and learned about white beets and cumin as a pizza seasoning and fish seasoned with fennel.  Our dishes were garnished with water cress.  

Open Fields

Last morning in London for the time being.  We left the crowded city  and took a train to beautiful Cambridge through huge green pastures and blue skies.  Spring is peeking through.

Westminster Abbey

Today we visited Westminster Abbey and took in the glory of much of England's past.  A patchwork of memorials and tombs, of architecture from the 11th century to the present.  Historical traditions that have been continued since it's founding are still being performed: coronations, weddings, funerals, some in the same furniture and configurations.  Feeling time and its stretch from then to now, and the way that new additions to history are still welcomed within the walls.  London seems to be filled with time and a reminder that we are creating what will be written and discussed in the years to come.  That as we live will in some way be set in marble statues, set in stone.  

To London, To London

I flew in a daze of Dramamine and the sounds of Chinese surrounding me.  Two hours before the end of the flight I finally decided to take off my eye mask, and sat in the still-dark airplane cabin, thinking inside myself.  In preparation for our descent, the cabin crew had us raise the blinds and I saw the green fields and row houses of England.  I'm in England, England!  Where people on the tube hold books with covers I can read, books from the library.  Where I understand all the signs and the words that I say are understood by others.  Where the people are tall and the buildings are old in a new way, a way different from Japan.  Everything is bustling and tomorrow the city of London awaits.

Before Leaving

I'm sitting on the airport limousine bus, bound for Kansai International Airport which is my gateway to England.  Behind me is a friend from the orchestra, one who is traveling tonight to Paris.  We're all excited to have a chunk of time free to explore the world, see friends and family, or rest.  This particular friend is perhaps one of the best companions for this bus ride.  Her enthusiasm, or rather passion, for flying far exceeds any that I've ever encountered.  She knows all the planes in all the airlines, the different models and makes.  She knows about their food and service ratings, their fare and reliability.  For her, flying is perhaps one of the most exciting things to do.  She frequently posts pictures of planes that she sees in the sky, noting their model and airline, and shares pictures from within the cabin as well.  I'm happy to have her attitude so close to me as I prepare for a long flight.  I enjoy the removal from the world that flying brings, being outside of geographical space and time.  I enjoy the anticipation of what is coming, and the opportunity it can provide for reflection.  I do not enjoy motion sickness, or dry cabins, or jet lag.  But to be with this friend is a chance to focus on all the good that is coming, despite my body's reluctance.

This afternoon we had our last concert of this project.  Our conductor planted several surprises for us and the audience beforehand.  During Satie's Parade he had one of the percussionist bring him a drink, presumably from the empty bottles that he has to play shortly thereafter.  In the encore, a fast-paced flamenco dance piece (to which he danced rather than conducted yesterday) he had my stand partner throw a flower to him which he put in his teeth as he stomped his heels.  He walked into the orchestra and gave it to the principal oboist.  At the bows, he presented it to a young girl in the first row.  It's been fun to have him.

And now for something different.  Saying goodbye to people after the concert, making selections from the convenient store, bowing to those around me as I get in line for the bus--the impending departure gives an oppotunity to feel their worth  in a new way.  Looking forward and looking forward some more.

A Patient Audience Member

I rarely use the stage door so I'm not sure how long one of our audience members has been waiting before and after concerts to collect my signature on his program.  He has been collecting the autographs of all the HPAC members, and when I happened to run into my friend on the 1st floor backstage, she told me he was waiting outside and that he had asked that she let me know.  And so I went outside and found him patiently waiting there.  Perhaps I should take the stage door more often.  It was so nice to have the exchange with him, and such a kind gesture for him to wait.