Short answer: For.
Longer answer: I'm for marriage. I'm for giving people the right to choose their life partner and closest kin. I'm against bigotry and parochialism. I'm against rhetoric that amounts to unsubstantiated prophecies of doom. I'm for recognizing that we have much to learn, and have learned much, about sexuality and our own prejudices. I'm for treating our fellow citizens with respect. I'm for faithfulness and holiness in relationships. I'm for encouraging and supporting committed partnerships. I'm for making this intermediate step in our society's inclusiveness (not permissiveness) and equality (not special treatment). I believe that if we fail at this step (by which I mean the broader movement to recognize same-sex marriages, not just today's vote), it will make many people's lives worse, and our country's struggle to continue to be a land of freedom will be harder.
I'm for passage of the Marriage Equality Act.
Monday, June 20, 2011
marriage equality in NY
This post is a little unusual for me, but I’ve just recently realized what kind of affirmation I’m willing to publicly make on such a divisive political issue. On Facebook I posted a link to this article with the comment “Looking forward to seeing this get passed.” A friend wrote, “Not sure… (and not judging), but are you for or against gay marriage?” Here was my response.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Hadestown: a folk opera in three acts
It may seem silly or presumptuous to try to impose a three-act structure on a 57-minute album, but I think doing so is useful for understanding its operatic nature. I spent some time debating whether there is a two-act or three-act structure at work, but there are really far more arguments in favor of the latter, so that’s what I’ll present here.
Act I takes places outside of Hadestown. It opens with the courtship of Orpheus and Eurydice (“Wedding Song”) and ends with Orpheus seeking a way to follow Eurydice to the underground (“Wait For Me”).
Act II begins at the wall of Hadestown (“Why We Build the Wall”), which is known as the River Styx. It ends with an instrumental number (“Papers”), during which Hades discovers both Orpheus’ presence and the speakeasy Persephone has been hiding from him.
Act III opens in the bedroom of Hades and Persephone, as they discuss what is to be done with Orpheus (“How Long?”). The piece ends with Eurydice and Persephone remembering and honoring Orpheus (“I Raise My Cup to Him”).
This subdivision of the work makes evident several pleasing parallels and overarching features.
With regard to setting, Act I takes place in the “world of the living”, away from Hades’ supreme control, while the events of Acts II and III occur in or near Hadestown. This format is almost exactly the same as in the legend recounted by the D’Aulaires, the main difference being that it ends in the underworld rather than following the rest of Orpheus’ life.
Thematically, Act II is institutional and Acts I and III are relational. Act II begins by showing Hades’ power as lord of Hadestown and ends by uncovering the challenges to that power. In between Eurydice and Orpheus struggle (separately) with the isolation imposed by being in Hadestown. Eurydice’s aria “Flowers” in this act is the only number she sings solo, without interaction or commentary from other characters. The two numbers that start this act are not solos, but the only interaction is simple call-and-response, with a single strong personality (Hades or Persephone) speaking to a faceless audience (the workers of Hadestown, who replace the dead of the original myth), who dutifully give the elicited replies.
On the other hand, both Acts I and III open with duets—between Orpheus and Eurydice in the first case, Hades and Persephone in the second. Each of these songs is a conversation, in which a couple tries to sort out how to handle some difficulty presented to them. These duets are both followed by narrative sections (“Epic” parts 1 and 2); here Orpheus is showcased as the master poet and storyteller as he tells the tale of Hades. The crowd responds, either in a discussion of the merits of living in Hadestown (“Way Down Hadestown”) or in support of Orpheus and Eurydice being together (“Lover’s Desire”). (This latter number is again instrumental, and so it’s less clear what is happening. But at the end of the previous song, the workers have joined Orpheus in singing, and in the following Hades complains that they have begun rioting when the lovers kissed. It seems reasonable to infer that the entire town is responding to Orpheus’ plea, as in the legend.) In Act I, the attention then turns to Eurydice’s shifting loyalties, as she is seduced by Hades in another duet. In a twist, Act III instead leaves Hades alone with his thoughts. For the first time, he is forced to reflect on the fragility of his lordly status and to contemplate how to overcome Orpheus’ destabilizing presence. Human weakness impinges on the relationships: Eurydice feels she must escape poverty in Act I, and Orpheus cannot bear the uncertainty that his love might not be following him in Act III. Tragically, the lovers must be separated at the end of both these acts, and each must find aid from another companion. Orpheus calls “Wait for me” to the absent Eurydice as he follows Hermes’ directions to Hadestown. In the end, Eurydice toasts Orpheus “wherever he is now”, and she is joined by Persephone at the table.
Act III also sees another shift in the characters’ relationships. In Acts I and II, both Orpheus and Hades are supreme in their respective crafts. No one can sing so divinely as Orpheus, and no one can challenge Hades’ role as boss. Their conflict, until the end of Act II, is indirect. Orpheus is clearly the hero and Hades is the villain. Starting in Act III, their conflict becomes more direct and ambiguous. Orpheus uncovers Hades’ humanity and threatens to overturn Hadestown’s society. Hades, on the other hand, knows that he must maintain control of the town, at least in part to benefit its residents by providing them with work. He becomes a kind of antihero. As in the myth, the question is raised whether Hades is bad or simply fulfilling a necessary role in life (and death). The battle of wills is begun.
Hades, of course, is victorious. But the opera refuses to admit that Orpheus has utterly failed. Just by presenting his case to Hades in Hades’ own domain he proves his virtue. There is something of the existential here, but that is a topic for another post.
Act I takes places outside of Hadestown. It opens with the courtship of Orpheus and Eurydice (“Wedding Song”) and ends with Orpheus seeking a way to follow Eurydice to the underground (“Wait For Me”).
Act II begins at the wall of Hadestown (“Why We Build the Wall”), which is known as the River Styx. It ends with an instrumental number (“Papers”), during which Hades discovers both Orpheus’ presence and the speakeasy Persephone has been hiding from him.
Act III opens in the bedroom of Hades and Persephone, as they discuss what is to be done with Orpheus (“How Long?”). The piece ends with Eurydice and Persephone remembering and honoring Orpheus (“I Raise My Cup to Him”).
This subdivision of the work makes evident several pleasing parallels and overarching features.
With regard to setting, Act I takes place in the “world of the living”, away from Hades’ supreme control, while the events of Acts II and III occur in or near Hadestown. This format is almost exactly the same as in the legend recounted by the D’Aulaires, the main difference being that it ends in the underworld rather than following the rest of Orpheus’ life.
Thematically, Act II is institutional and Acts I and III are relational. Act II begins by showing Hades’ power as lord of Hadestown and ends by uncovering the challenges to that power. In between Eurydice and Orpheus struggle (separately) with the isolation imposed by being in Hadestown. Eurydice’s aria “Flowers” in this act is the only number she sings solo, without interaction or commentary from other characters. The two numbers that start this act are not solos, but the only interaction is simple call-and-response, with a single strong personality (Hades or Persephone) speaking to a faceless audience (the workers of Hadestown, who replace the dead of the original myth), who dutifully give the elicited replies.
On the other hand, both Acts I and III open with duets—between Orpheus and Eurydice in the first case, Hades and Persephone in the second. Each of these songs is a conversation, in which a couple tries to sort out how to handle some difficulty presented to them. These duets are both followed by narrative sections (“Epic” parts 1 and 2); here Orpheus is showcased as the master poet and storyteller as he tells the tale of Hades. The crowd responds, either in a discussion of the merits of living in Hadestown (“Way Down Hadestown”) or in support of Orpheus and Eurydice being together (“Lover’s Desire”). (This latter number is again instrumental, and so it’s less clear what is happening. But at the end of the previous song, the workers have joined Orpheus in singing, and in the following Hades complains that they have begun rioting when the lovers kissed. It seems reasonable to infer that the entire town is responding to Orpheus’ plea, as in the legend.) In Act I, the attention then turns to Eurydice’s shifting loyalties, as she is seduced by Hades in another duet. In a twist, Act III instead leaves Hades alone with his thoughts. For the first time, he is forced to reflect on the fragility of his lordly status and to contemplate how to overcome Orpheus’ destabilizing presence. Human weakness impinges on the relationships: Eurydice feels she must escape poverty in Act I, and Orpheus cannot bear the uncertainty that his love might not be following him in Act III. Tragically, the lovers must be separated at the end of both these acts, and each must find aid from another companion. Orpheus calls “Wait for me” to the absent Eurydice as he follows Hermes’ directions to Hadestown. In the end, Eurydice toasts Orpheus “wherever he is now”, and she is joined by Persephone at the table.
Act III also sees another shift in the characters’ relationships. In Acts I and II, both Orpheus and Hades are supreme in their respective crafts. No one can sing so divinely as Orpheus, and no one can challenge Hades’ role as boss. Their conflict, until the end of Act II, is indirect. Orpheus is clearly the hero and Hades is the villain. Starting in Act III, their conflict becomes more direct and ambiguous. Orpheus uncovers Hades’ humanity and threatens to overturn Hadestown’s society. Hades, on the other hand, knows that he must maintain control of the town, at least in part to benefit its residents by providing them with work. He becomes a kind of antihero. As in the myth, the question is raised whether Hades is bad or simply fulfilling a necessary role in life (and death). The battle of wills is begun.
Hades, of course, is victorious. But the opera refuses to admit that Orpheus has utterly failed. Just by presenting his case to Hades in Hades’ own domain he proves his virtue. There is something of the existential here, but that is a topic for another post.
Two tellings
Here is the complete story of Orpheus as told by the D’Aulaires:
For comparison, here is the story included in the liner notes of Hadestown (the words in braces are the titles of tracks on the album):
The D’Aulaires’ illustrations to go with the story are of course beautiful. I will again emphasize that if you don’t have this book, you should. You can see some illustrations of the Hadestown characters here (also contains the above synopsis). The characters along the right, from top to bottom, are Eurydice, Orpheus, Persephone, Hermes, Hades, and the Fates. I’ll talk more about each of them later.
Orpheus’ music was joyful and gay, for he was in love with Euridice, a sweet young maiden, and she loved him in return. On the day of their wedding, his songs swelled out, filled with happiness as his bride danced on her light feet through the meadow. Suddenly, she trod on a snake and sank to the ground, dead of its poisonous bite. Hermes gently closed her eyes and led her away to the underworld. No more songs came from Orpheus’ throat, no more tunes rang out from his lyre. All joy had gone out from his life. He had to have Euridice back.
Weeping and grieving, Orpheus wandered about searching for an entrance to Hades, and when at the end of the world he found it, he did what no living man had ever done before: he went down to the realm of the dead to beg for the return of his beloved. His music had the power to move hard rocks; it might also move the cold heart of Hades. Hope gave him back his songs, and, playing and singing, he walked down the dark, steep path.
His silvery voice floated down through the dark like a gentle summer breeze and its magic moved the iron gates of Hades. They sprang open and let him in, and Cerberus, the three-headed watchdog, lay down at his feet and let him pass. The whole dark underworld stilled and listened to Orpheus’ music as he entered the realm of the dead singing about his great love, begging to have Euridice back. The fluttering souls hushed. Those condemned to eternal pains stopped groaning, and their torturers, the avenging furies, the Erinyes, dropped their whips and wept tears of blood.
Hades, the pitiless king of the dead, sat on his black marble throne with Queen Persephone at his side. Even he was so moved by the music that tears rolled down his sallow cheeks and cold Persephone sobbed. Her heart was so touched that she turned to her husband and begged him to let Euridice go back to the sunny world above. Hades gave his consent, but he made one condition: Orpheus must not look at his bride before they reached the realm of the living. She would walk behind him, but if he turned, and looked at her, she must return to the underworld.
Overcome with joy, Orpheus started up the dark path, and as his music faded into the distance, gloom again descended over the underworld. The way was long, and as Orpheus walked on and on, doubt began to creep into his mind. Had Hades deceived him? Were the sounds he heard behind him really Euridice’s footsteps? He had almost reached the upper world, and could already see a dim light ahead, when he could bear his doubts no longer. He had to turn and see if she really was there. He saw her sweet face, but only for an instant, for again Hermes appeared at her side. He turned her about and led her back to the dark gloom below. Faintly, Orpheus heard her whisper farewell. He had lost her forever through his lack of faith.
Orpheus never again found joy on earth. He wandered into the wilderness to grieve in solitude. He sang, but now his songs were so mournful that tears trickled down the cheeks of wild beasts and the willows wept.
A band of wild nymphs stormed through the woods shouting to Orpheus to join them. They yelled and carried on so loudly that they could not hear his silvery voice and were not touched by its magic. They wanted him to dance with them, but he had not heart for their revelry, and in a fury they threw themselves over him. They tore him to pieces and tossed his body in a river. The river stopped its gurgling to listen, for the haunting voice of Orpheus still issued forth from his dead lips as he floated down to the open sea.
The Muses grieved over him. They searched the sea till they found his body on the shores of the island of Lesbos. There they gave him a proper funeral, and at last he could rejoin his beloved Euridice as a flitting ghost in the underworld.
For comparison, here is the story included in the liner notes of Hadestown (the words in braces are the titles of tracks on the album):
Hadestown begins in the open air, in a world of poverty. Eurydice asks her lover how he will provide for her in these dark times—Orpheus is sure that the world will provide {Wedding Song}. Orpheus sings, and his singing draws a crowd {Epic Part One}. An old train depot, and everyone’s talking about Hadestown, the walled city under the ground {Way Down Hadestown}. There’s Hermes, the hobo guide and messenger; Persephone, in transit, suitcases in tow; Eurydice, who is more than curious about Hadestown; and Orpheus, who wants no part. When Hades calls, Eurydice receives him {Hey, Little Songbird}. He seduces her: she should leave Orpheus and join him in the wealth and security of his underworld. Eurydice succumbs {Gone, I’m Gone}—was she pushed, or did she jump? The Fates provide an explanation {When the Chips Are Down}. Orpheus is determined to follow Eurydice, and Hermes gives directions {Wait For Me}. Meanwhile, in Hadestown, Hades indoctrinates his worker-citizens {Why We Build the Wall}. But when he turns his back, Persephone presents another side of the underworld, in a speakeasy where she plies her contraband and takes an interest in the newly arrived Orpheus {Our Lady of the Underground}. Eurydice, unaware that her lover is near, laments her decision {Flowers}. Orpheus moves toward her, but is intercepted by the Fates. The rules are the rules—there’s no going back for Eurydice—it’s better not to struggle {Nothing Changes}. Orpheus challenges the Fates {If It’s True}. A fight scene: Orpheus and the speakeasy are exposed {Papers}. In the royal bedroom, Persephone appeals to her husband on Orpheus’ behalf {How Long?}. Orpheus sings again, and this time, Hades hears him {Epic Part Two}. An uprising begins, in Hadestown and in the heart of the king {Lover’s Desire}. Hades comes up with a plan: Orpheus can have Eurydice back if he can walk out of the underworld a few paces ahead of her and not turn around to make sure she’s there {His Kiss, The Riot}. Orpheus and Eurydice begin their ascent {Doubt Comes In}. Later, Eurydice and Persephone sing a reverse elegy for Orpheus {I Raise My Cup To Him}.
The D’Aulaires’ illustrations to go with the story are of course beautiful. I will again emphasize that if you don’t have this book, you should. You can see some illustrations of the Hadestown characters here (also contains the above synopsis). The characters along the right, from top to bottom, are Eurydice, Orpheus, Persephone, Hermes, Hades, and the Fates. I’ll talk more about each of them later.
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Hadestown: a folk opera
The album Hadestown astounds me at practically every level. It has stellar performances, poetry, and musicianship. But for me, it bears relistening (at the rate I've been doing so recently) because of its structure and storytelling in addition to those other elements, which one expects from any good album. Not only do I find myself singing the songs over and over, out loud or in my head, I keep thinking about them—how they unfold and how they tie together. I’ve had enough thoughts about this album that I decided to start writing them down, in what I expect will become a series of blog posts. I consider myself more of a music analyst than a music critic, however (an amateur one in either case), and so most of my thoughts are about the construction of the work and the execution of the storytelling. I won’t be trying to assess the quality of the performances or suggest potential improvements (I will point out flourishes I particularly like), even though as I said before they are enough to recommend listening by anyone with even a casual interest in folk rock, blues, or spirituals. (You can get the whole thing streamed via Quicktime here, and hopefully you’ll decide to buy it.) Instead I wish to study what this piece accomplishes in a narrative and poetic sense, and details of the recording will mostly be mentioned only to underscore that focus. Some things I’ll say will be obvious; hopefully some will be less obvious.
The concept of the album is simple: it is a retelling of the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice in the setting of a fictional post-apocalyptic Depression-era America, through the medium of American folk music. Orpheus is an impoverished poet and songster who has found the love of his life in Eurydice. She, rather than being poisoned by snakebite as in the original, is seduced by Hades and the promise of lavish comfort to journey to the underground mine of Hadestown. Orpheus follows her and pleads with Hades to let Eurydice return above ground with him. Hades, struggling to maintain control and order in his domain, is eventually persuaded to let them go, but only on the condition that Orpheus walk alone with Eurydice behind him, and he cannot turn to look at her. As in the original tale, Orpheus is plagued by enough doubt that he cannot help turning near the end, and the lovers are separated permanently by Hades' decree.
(It’s worth mentioning that I learned the story of Orpheus and Eurydice from D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths, which will always be for me the definitive telling of all the stories it covers. Less well-known but just as enjoyable and informative is D’Aulaires’ Book of Norse Myths, which I credit with providing me the only chance I have of understanding the setting of Wagner’s Ring Cycle.)
The “folk” element in the subtitle is evident, but why “opera”? It’s more than just because this piece tells a story set to music over the course of several songs. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice has appeared again and again in opera and theatre. Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo (1607) was arguably the first true opera, and it was cited in my music history class as an indicator of the beginning of the Baroque era in music. Subsequently, the story was also used as the basis for operas by Gluck, Offenbach (who used the occasion to compose his famous Can-can music), and Glass, in addition to a ballet with music by Stravinsky. By the time Anaïs Mitchell came along to give it a new treatment, it couldn’t be as anything but an opera. The force of musical history is too strong.
Still, I’m not sure anyone had heard anything quite like this album before. It’s an opera in an American musical medium, like Porgy and Bess before it, but it draws on a somewhat different set of elements—Appalachian ballads and traditional call-and-response numbers and folk songs of the 1960s. I personally had not heard of any of the performers (including Mitchell herself), apart from Ani DiFranco (who plays the part of Persephone, Hades’ wife and queen), before receiving this album (it was a gift from my in-laws), although they seem to be well-known and well-respected in the folk music community at large. In any case they come together and tell the story masterfully. It may just as well be described as an oratorio, because the musical setting stands on its own without any staging. The styles of the songs are immediately familiar, but like any great storyteller, Mitchell has imbued every level of the work with layer upon layer of additional meaning. This is what captivates me, and what I want to explore.
The concept of the album is simple: it is a retelling of the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice in the setting of a fictional post-apocalyptic Depression-era America, through the medium of American folk music. Orpheus is an impoverished poet and songster who has found the love of his life in Eurydice. She, rather than being poisoned by snakebite as in the original, is seduced by Hades and the promise of lavish comfort to journey to the underground mine of Hadestown. Orpheus follows her and pleads with Hades to let Eurydice return above ground with him. Hades, struggling to maintain control and order in his domain, is eventually persuaded to let them go, but only on the condition that Orpheus walk alone with Eurydice behind him, and he cannot turn to look at her. As in the original tale, Orpheus is plagued by enough doubt that he cannot help turning near the end, and the lovers are separated permanently by Hades' decree.
(It’s worth mentioning that I learned the story of Orpheus and Eurydice from D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths, which will always be for me the definitive telling of all the stories it covers. Less well-known but just as enjoyable and informative is D’Aulaires’ Book of Norse Myths, which I credit with providing me the only chance I have of understanding the setting of Wagner’s Ring Cycle.)
The “folk” element in the subtitle is evident, but why “opera”? It’s more than just because this piece tells a story set to music over the course of several songs. The tale of Orpheus and Eurydice has appeared again and again in opera and theatre. Monteverdi’s L’Orfeo (1607) was arguably the first true opera, and it was cited in my music history class as an indicator of the beginning of the Baroque era in music. Subsequently, the story was also used as the basis for operas by Gluck, Offenbach (who used the occasion to compose his famous Can-can music), and Glass, in addition to a ballet with music by Stravinsky. By the time Anaïs Mitchell came along to give it a new treatment, it couldn’t be as anything but an opera. The force of musical history is too strong.
Still, I’m not sure anyone had heard anything quite like this album before. It’s an opera in an American musical medium, like Porgy and Bess before it, but it draws on a somewhat different set of elements—Appalachian ballads and traditional call-and-response numbers and folk songs of the 1960s. I personally had not heard of any of the performers (including Mitchell herself), apart from Ani DiFranco (who plays the part of Persephone, Hades’ wife and queen), before receiving this album (it was a gift from my in-laws), although they seem to be well-known and well-respected in the folk music community at large. In any case they come together and tell the story masterfully. It may just as well be described as an oratorio, because the musical setting stands on its own without any staging. The styles of the songs are immediately familiar, but like any great storyteller, Mitchell has imbued every level of the work with layer upon layer of additional meaning. This is what captivates me, and what I want to explore.
Sunday, July 04, 2010
musical reasons to go to church
I have in mind a longer post about all the times we’ve been to church since we got here, and all the different places. But other things (i.e., work, World Cup, sleeping and eating) have gotten in the way of writing. So I just thought I’d share some of the pieces I heard today during the two services I attended.
At St. Cyprian’s (with the Old Catholics): the youth group had a band that was helping lead some of the worship. As a response (after the sermon or communion, I don’t remember which), they sang “Ain’t No Rock”. Been a long time since I heard/sung that one.
At the Münster Cathedral (the centrally-located, largest church in town): today was the “Tag der Kirchenmusik”, and all of the church choirs (the program says there were four, but most were in the organ loft, so I can’t confirm that) joined in to assist the mass. Among the pieces were a lively “Gloria” (I haven’t been able to confirm the composer—maybe Rutter? Except you know how well looking for Rutter’s Gloria online works when it’s not the BIG one), Mendelssohn’s “Denn er hat seinen Engeln befohlen über dir” (“For God commanded angels to watch over you”—I mostly know this one through the St. Olaf Choir, so I was pleased that the choir carried it off admirably at the psalm), Barber’s “Agnus Dei” (quite a bit faster than it’s usually performed, but it worked well for the smaller chorus and for the length of time communion took), and a setting of the Magnificat to end the service, Richard Shephard’s “Song of Mary” with all the choirs participating (hadn’t heard this one before—it was wonderful!).
It’s great when the church functions, at least in part, as a bastion of great music. (Also when parentheses function as a crutch in place of actual structure to an essay.)
At St. Cyprian’s (with the Old Catholics): the youth group had a band that was helping lead some of the worship. As a response (after the sermon or communion, I don’t remember which), they sang “Ain’t No Rock”. Been a long time since I heard/sung that one.
At the Münster Cathedral (the centrally-located, largest church in town): today was the “Tag der Kirchenmusik”, and all of the church choirs (the program says there were four, but most were in the organ loft, so I can’t confirm that) joined in to assist the mass. Among the pieces were a lively “Gloria” (I haven’t been able to confirm the composer—maybe Rutter? Except you know how well looking for Rutter’s Gloria online works when it’s not the BIG one), Mendelssohn’s “Denn er hat seinen Engeln befohlen über dir” (“For God commanded angels to watch over you”—I mostly know this one through the St. Olaf Choir, so I was pleased that the choir carried it off admirably at the psalm), Barber’s “Agnus Dei” (quite a bit faster than it’s usually performed, but it worked well for the smaller chorus and for the length of time communion took), and a setting of the Magnificat to end the service, Richard Shephard’s “Song of Mary” with all the choirs participating (hadn’t heard this one before—it was wonderful!).
It’s great when the church functions, at least in part, as a bastion of great music. (Also when parentheses function as a crutch in place of actual structure to an essay.)
Saturday, June 19, 2010
zweiter Samstag in Bonn
The main conference of the summer is done. This week, dozens of mathematicians from all over the world gathered to discuss their interest in flat surfaces (think of polygons from high-school geometry on steroids), foliations (think of layers piled on top of each other to fill up space in different ways), mapping classes (think of “how many different ways can I, or my kid, put clothes on, rightly or wrongly?”), expansion constants (think of how much a balloon stretches as it inflates), moduli spaces (think of how many different shapes a single kind of object—say, a rectangle or a person—can have), and many more topics. Believe it or not, these things are all related. And most of the talks were very good. It was well-paced, with only four lectures a day (I've been to some conferences with seven or eight!), and the organizers deserve a great deal of credit.
I would also count “living in Bonn” as a success so far. Let’s talk food for a moment. I’ve had my spargel (twice, once at home with lemon-butter sauce and once at a restaurant with hollandaise), and schnitzel, and pizza with schinken (ham), and currywurst, and… What’s that? You want to know what currywurst is? Well, I definitely plan to have more. It’s a bratwurst sausage served with curry powder and ketchup sauce. Also French fries (here, called “pommes”, as in “pommes frites”). And beer. Because the thing I’ve had more often than anything else, even strawberries, is beer. (I mention the strawberries because they’re my favorite fruit, they’re even more plenteous than spargel right now, and, ironically, they are called “erdbeeren” in German—“beer”, of course, being German for “berry”, since “bier” means “beer”. Now I want to see if I can find, or invent, beerbier.) My favorite beer to get here is weizen, which invariably comes in the largest (half-liter) size, and which I get to myself because Hannah doesn’t like wheat beer.
Anyway, back to the wurst. We made that lunch today after shopping at the Marktplatz, because there’s a popular currywurst stand right there. According to Wikipedia, it’s been around since the late 1940s, when ketchup and curry powder first arrived in Germany. It’s both amusing and yummy. Another import Germans seem to adore is ice cream. Soooo many gelaterias around. I’ve only indulged in that once. And the moment I really realized I was not in France (I know, you’d think the black-red-gold flags painted on everyone’s faces would give it away, wouldn’t you?) was when I tried to buy bread at 8:00 at night and all of the bakeries were closed. I guess at that time of night you should only being eating meat. Or ice cream. With beer in either case.
(Funny how being around another language will affect you. At the end of that last paragraph, I typed “schould” about three times before I got it right.)
One last food comment before moving on: we of course consumed lots of coffee during the conference. So once this morning arrived, the first thing I wanted to do was get coffee. We went to Einstein Kaffee, a coffeehouse I pass each morning on the way to the institute, which had intrigued me. Turns out to be a very American-style coffeehouse, a couple of steps up from Starbucks, not like a French café at all, with lots of seating inside and out, and hip background music. There are two Starbucks nearby, but we’ll probably go to Einstein while we’re here if we want that ambiance. In the meantime, biergartens it is!
In the middle of the week we went on a hike with several of the conference participants. One of the organizers, who has a bit of a reputation for leading people on far lengthier and more strenuous hikes than they expect, clarified that in his terminology this was just a “walk”. We covered about 10 km in all, and reached the top of Löwenburg in the Siebengebirge. This is very nearly the highest point in the area (one of the other peaks in the Siebengebirge is just a few meters higher), and the view was spectacular. Hannah spent most of the hike talking with other opera buffs, and together on top of the mountain they attempted to trace out the geography of Siegfried’s journey from Wagner’s Ring cycle among the valleys and other peaks below. They had hoped to visit the Drachenfels, where Siegfried was supposed to have slain a dragon, but since we didn't make it there they decided that the ruins of the castle we reached was the home of the dwarf Hagen. We could see the Drachenfels from our location, and there was also much discussion as to which mountaintop had held the sleeping Brünnhilde. (If you’ve heard Anna Russell’s summary of the ring cycle, you are probably fighting to withhold laughter by now. If you haven’t, you should. Or perhaps schould.) By the end of the trip, Hannah was lecturing on the sources and symbols of the Lord of the Rings, and getting quite an audience in the process. Male mathematicians, it appears, enjoy discussing culture with an intelligent, pretty woman.
A few other random things about this week… The country has had an up and a down thanks to the World Cup. On Sunday night, after their team defeated Australia 4-0, the streets were filled with cars and noise. Everyone became much more subdued yesterday when they lost to Serbia 0-1. But all of the restaurants and biergartens have several flat-screen TVs set up, and when any game is occurring, you can hear how it’s going from anywhere in town.
As we wandered around the market this morning, we were surprised by the activity in the Münsterplatz (just a couple hundred meters from the Marktplatz). Whereas last Saturday we found an artisanal fair full of sculpture and fountains, today there was Bonn’s “Energietag”, with all sorts of companies showcasing their products for conserving and preserving energy and water. There were a solar cooking demonstration, a couple of different kinds of solar panels (the first time I’d seen any up close), a system for funneling sunlight inside using something more like a periscope than a skylight, and that’s just the stuff I could figure out without reading German.
We still need to find some concerts to attend. I thought seeing a play might be another option; however, the nearby theatre is showing Der Fremde (L'Étranger) by Camus, in German, and I realized that apart from that sounding incredibly depressing, we’re not yet ready to see a play performed auf Deutsch. Going to be searching for organ and chamber recitals in the area.
So that’s a little about what’s going on here. I may post another, more mathematically focused entry for anyone interested in some of what went on in the lecture hall.
I would also count “living in Bonn” as a success so far. Let’s talk food for a moment. I’ve had my spargel (twice, once at home with lemon-butter sauce and once at a restaurant with hollandaise), and schnitzel, and pizza with schinken (ham), and currywurst, and… What’s that? You want to know what currywurst is? Well, I definitely plan to have more. It’s a bratwurst sausage served with curry powder and ketchup sauce. Also French fries (here, called “pommes”, as in “pommes frites”). And beer. Because the thing I’ve had more often than anything else, even strawberries, is beer. (I mention the strawberries because they’re my favorite fruit, they’re even more plenteous than spargel right now, and, ironically, they are called “erdbeeren” in German—“beer”, of course, being German for “berry”, since “bier” means “beer”. Now I want to see if I can find, or invent, beerbier.) My favorite beer to get here is weizen, which invariably comes in the largest (half-liter) size, and which I get to myself because Hannah doesn’t like wheat beer.
Anyway, back to the wurst. We made that lunch today after shopping at the Marktplatz, because there’s a popular currywurst stand right there. According to Wikipedia, it’s been around since the late 1940s, when ketchup and curry powder first arrived in Germany. It’s both amusing and yummy. Another import Germans seem to adore is ice cream. Soooo many gelaterias around. I’ve only indulged in that once. And the moment I really realized I was not in France (I know, you’d think the black-red-gold flags painted on everyone’s faces would give it away, wouldn’t you?) was when I tried to buy bread at 8:00 at night and all of the bakeries were closed. I guess at that time of night you should only being eating meat. Or ice cream. With beer in either case.
(Funny how being around another language will affect you. At the end of that last paragraph, I typed “schould” about three times before I got it right.)
One last food comment before moving on: we of course consumed lots of coffee during the conference. So once this morning arrived, the first thing I wanted to do was get coffee. We went to Einstein Kaffee, a coffeehouse I pass each morning on the way to the institute, which had intrigued me. Turns out to be a very American-style coffeehouse, a couple of steps up from Starbucks, not like a French café at all, with lots of seating inside and out, and hip background music. There are two Starbucks nearby, but we’ll probably go to Einstein while we’re here if we want that ambiance. In the meantime, biergartens it is!
In the middle of the week we went on a hike with several of the conference participants. One of the organizers, who has a bit of a reputation for leading people on far lengthier and more strenuous hikes than they expect, clarified that in his terminology this was just a “walk”. We covered about 10 km in all, and reached the top of Löwenburg in the Siebengebirge. This is very nearly the highest point in the area (one of the other peaks in the Siebengebirge is just a few meters higher), and the view was spectacular. Hannah spent most of the hike talking with other opera buffs, and together on top of the mountain they attempted to trace out the geography of Siegfried’s journey from Wagner’s Ring cycle among the valleys and other peaks below. They had hoped to visit the Drachenfels, where Siegfried was supposed to have slain a dragon, but since we didn't make it there they decided that the ruins of the castle we reached was the home of the dwarf Hagen. We could see the Drachenfels from our location, and there was also much discussion as to which mountaintop had held the sleeping Brünnhilde. (If you’ve heard Anna Russell’s summary of the ring cycle, you are probably fighting to withhold laughter by now. If you haven’t, you should. Or perhaps schould.) By the end of the trip, Hannah was lecturing on the sources and symbols of the Lord of the Rings, and getting quite an audience in the process. Male mathematicians, it appears, enjoy discussing culture with an intelligent, pretty woman.
A few other random things about this week… The country has had an up and a down thanks to the World Cup. On Sunday night, after their team defeated Australia 4-0, the streets were filled with cars and noise. Everyone became much more subdued yesterday when they lost to Serbia 0-1. But all of the restaurants and biergartens have several flat-screen TVs set up, and when any game is occurring, you can hear how it’s going from anywhere in town.
As we wandered around the market this morning, we were surprised by the activity in the Münsterplatz (just a couple hundred meters from the Marktplatz). Whereas last Saturday we found an artisanal fair full of sculpture and fountains, today there was Bonn’s “Energietag”, with all sorts of companies showcasing their products for conserving and preserving energy and water. There were a solar cooking demonstration, a couple of different kinds of solar panels (the first time I’d seen any up close), a system for funneling sunlight inside using something more like a periscope than a skylight, and that’s just the stuff I could figure out without reading German.
We still need to find some concerts to attend. I thought seeing a play might be another option; however, the nearby theatre is showing Der Fremde (L'Étranger) by Camus, in German, and I realized that apart from that sounding incredibly depressing, we’re not yet ready to see a play performed auf Deutsch. Going to be searching for organ and chamber recitals in the area.
So that’s a little about what’s going on here. I may post another, more mathematically focused entry for anyone interested in some of what went on in the lecture hall.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Spargel, spargel, spargel
It means “asparagus”. Bonn is in high spargel season, and it's everywhere. My strongest first impression of Bonn comes from walking through the vegetable market hearing gravelly voices calling, “Spargel, spargel, zwei kilos drei euros!” The spargel that's available, by the way, is fat white asparagus, unlike any I've seen. Hannah claims that in the US white asparagus is generally considered a luxury. All of the restaurants are serving it; some are even announcing a “Spargelfest” and have their entire placards advertising dishes based on spargel (usually with hollandaise sauce). Hannah and I have invested in our own spargel and plan to cook it tomorrow. More on that when it happens.
First things first (or second, since I seem to have allotted first place to the supreme pleasure of the word “spargel”, spoken either aloud or internally). So, first things second, and we left for Germany late Thursday afternoon. All aboard Aer Lingus, where the uniforms are the color of clover and the planes are named after Irish saints (Hannah noticed this in Dublin). It was a relatively short flight from JFK to Dublin—only about five hours of air time. Once the taxiing and waiting on the runway time was factored in, about seven hours on the plane. So there wasn't a lot of time for sleeping. I watched Shutter Island up through dinnertime. (It is a good movie, which I would recommend for anyone who likes drama with a dose of suspense and just a tinge of horror, without really being horror-genre. Also for anyone who thinks that Leo DiCaprio and Ben Kingsley sounds like a good pairing. Once again Martin Scorcese proves his love for Leo.) After that, I tried sleeping for a while but was awake again after about a half-hour. Tuned in to “Big Bang Theory” (which I only ever watch on planes, but do so whenever possible) and “Mad Men” (which I had heard many good things about, but not seen before). Enough about in-flight entertainment…
How could we tell we were in Ireland from inside the Dublin airport? All the Jameson whiskey in all of the stores. One entire hallway was covered with it, the way one might see a string of windows showcasing diamond necklaces in the chic part of the mall. Also the fact that all of the clothes in the shops were green. Bright green. The same color as Aer Lingus uniforms. And we were reminded that Ireland uses the euro instead of the pound for currency, which was fortunate since we had euros on hand. Got some proper coffee. That was the reminder that we were in Europe, and happily were going to be in Europe for some time.
It wasn't a long layover in Dublin, and we were shortly on the way to Frankfurt. A couple of days ago, when I was checking the weather for packing purposes, I learned that this region gets a lot of rainfall in the summer, so it wasn't too much of a surprise when we got on the plane that it was announced thunderstorms in Frankfurt were delaying our departure. The pilot came on several times and explained how she was arguing with the Frankfurt airport control to push up our push off time as much as possible. This was great for two reasons. One, our pilot was a woman! Neither Hannah nor I recalled that happening in some time. (Additionally, I think I heard her say the co-pilot was a “Sir”. Sometimes it seems too bad we don't have knights in the US. Or royalty, for that matter, as I read a opinion columnist recently suggesting we have a titular king and queen who could take care of the photo-ops while the president takes care of actually fixing things. But I digress…) Two, our pilot was totally taking on the entire Frankfurt air system! Well, that's what it sounded like to us, anyway. We might have been a bit punchy at that point. I spent most of the time between landing and taking off in Dublin pestering Hannah with my chipperness, and promptly slept over all of England and France (and Belgium, perhaps?).
The Frankfurt airport has a train station attached, so after some wandering about and getting (English) directions from a friendly official, we ended up at the Fernbahnhof with tickets to Bonn. The train was punctual, and once we got on, we discovered it was stuffy and un-airconditioned. This would have been much less tolerable had there not been a team of young, drunk, male athletes who sang the entire trip. The times they sang in English was to wish happy birthday (twice) to their teammate Markos, and when they broke into John Denver's “Country Roads, Take Me Home” (which was a little surreal). Most of their singing was words they made up to short tunes they knew. Most memorable was when a women's soccer team boarded the train and the guys sang “Jetzt kommen die Frauen! Oh oh-oh-oh-oh!” The two teams proceeded to have singing competitions at each other. The men's team won, I think, but they also failed to capture as much attention from the women as they would have liked.
Once we got off the train, we only took a couple of wrong turns in getting to the apartment where we're staying. Our apartment is just north of the Marktplatz, which is full of fruit and vegetable stands. There is a large pedestrian section of town with cobbled roads lined with all sorts of shops and biergartens. There will be more to tell about the town once we've seen more and gotten more familiar with it. But I just want you to know, we have great access to a lot of spargel merchants.
First things first (or second, since I seem to have allotted first place to the supreme pleasure of the word “spargel”, spoken either aloud or internally). So, first things second, and we left for Germany late Thursday afternoon. All aboard Aer Lingus, where the uniforms are the color of clover and the planes are named after Irish saints (Hannah noticed this in Dublin). It was a relatively short flight from JFK to Dublin—only about five hours of air time. Once the taxiing and waiting on the runway time was factored in, about seven hours on the plane. So there wasn't a lot of time for sleeping. I watched Shutter Island up through dinnertime. (It is a good movie, which I would recommend for anyone who likes drama with a dose of suspense and just a tinge of horror, without really being horror-genre. Also for anyone who thinks that Leo DiCaprio and Ben Kingsley sounds like a good pairing. Once again Martin Scorcese proves his love for Leo.) After that, I tried sleeping for a while but was awake again after about a half-hour. Tuned in to “Big Bang Theory” (which I only ever watch on planes, but do so whenever possible) and “Mad Men” (which I had heard many good things about, but not seen before). Enough about in-flight entertainment…
How could we tell we were in Ireland from inside the Dublin airport? All the Jameson whiskey in all of the stores. One entire hallway was covered with it, the way one might see a string of windows showcasing diamond necklaces in the chic part of the mall. Also the fact that all of the clothes in the shops were green. Bright green. The same color as Aer Lingus uniforms. And we were reminded that Ireland uses the euro instead of the pound for currency, which was fortunate since we had euros on hand. Got some proper coffee. That was the reminder that we were in Europe, and happily were going to be in Europe for some time.
It wasn't a long layover in Dublin, and we were shortly on the way to Frankfurt. A couple of days ago, when I was checking the weather for packing purposes, I learned that this region gets a lot of rainfall in the summer, so it wasn't too much of a surprise when we got on the plane that it was announced thunderstorms in Frankfurt were delaying our departure. The pilot came on several times and explained how she was arguing with the Frankfurt airport control to push up our push off time as much as possible. This was great for two reasons. One, our pilot was a woman! Neither Hannah nor I recalled that happening in some time. (Additionally, I think I heard her say the co-pilot was a “Sir”. Sometimes it seems too bad we don't have knights in the US. Or royalty, for that matter, as I read a opinion columnist recently suggesting we have a titular king and queen who could take care of the photo-ops while the president takes care of actually fixing things. But I digress…) Two, our pilot was totally taking on the entire Frankfurt air system! Well, that's what it sounded like to us, anyway. We might have been a bit punchy at that point. I spent most of the time between landing and taking off in Dublin pestering Hannah with my chipperness, and promptly slept over all of England and France (and Belgium, perhaps?).
The Frankfurt airport has a train station attached, so after some wandering about and getting (English) directions from a friendly official, we ended up at the Fernbahnhof with tickets to Bonn. The train was punctual, and once we got on, we discovered it was stuffy and un-airconditioned. This would have been much less tolerable had there not been a team of young, drunk, male athletes who sang the entire trip. The times they sang in English was to wish happy birthday (twice) to their teammate Markos, and when they broke into John Denver's “Country Roads, Take Me Home” (which was a little surreal). Most of their singing was words they made up to short tunes they knew. Most memorable was when a women's soccer team boarded the train and the guys sang “Jetzt kommen die Frauen! Oh oh-oh-oh-oh!” The two teams proceeded to have singing competitions at each other. The men's team won, I think, but they also failed to capture as much attention from the women as they would have liked.
Once we got off the train, we only took a couple of wrong turns in getting to the apartment where we're staying. Our apartment is just north of the Marktplatz, which is full of fruit and vegetable stands. There is a large pedestrian section of town with cobbled roads lined with all sorts of shops and biergartens. There will be more to tell about the town once we've seen more and gotten more familiar with it. But I just want you to know, we have great access to a lot of spargel merchants.
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