Montpellier part one

It's been a busy couple of weeks. My sister Emily was visiting, Maggie was ill with a cold/flu, and we now have David and Greta from Vancouver staying with us at the moment. Needless to say blogging has not been a priority, although the longer I wait the bigger the task gets.

I was also away last week, and returned late last Wednesday evening from a trip to the south of France for an audition, and a visit and lesson with Pierre Fleta and his wife Claude, who live in the town of Millau, in the Cévennes mountains north of Montpellier.


Montpellier adventures: day 1: April 26th

I arrived by TGV train from Brussels in the late afternoon, and checked into my little hotel just a few steps from the station, and perhaps 100 metres from the opera. The weather was gorgeous: low twenties, quite dry, quite hot in the sunlight; a definite change from Brussels, where it was been cool and damp recently. The streets here are lined with palm trees and there is a definite mediterranean feel to the city.


The square of the Place Comédie is closed to cars, and is cross-crossed by trams and has extensive parking underneath it, a great idea. It's surrounded by many historic buildings, and a statue and fountain of the three graces, and it was a beautiful spot to sit in the warm southern sun and drink a glass of chilled rosé wine while watching the crowds wander around; the drink comes with a little dish of chips and some ripe olives and peppers to whet your appetite.

For a city of its size, Montpellier is lucky musically in that there are two excellent spaces for opera: the first is the Opera-Comédie, built in 1888, which accomodates 1500, and also has a 400-seat concert hall, called the Salle Molière. The second excellent venue is the Opera Berlioz (located in a complex known as the "Corum"), built in 1990, with an acoustically isolated and precisely tuned hall that seats 2000, and two smaller halls each seating less than 500.

I had an interesting time at the front desk of the Corum the day I arrived, chatting with receptionist. I have made it a habit - given the time and opportunity of course - to "case out" the places I'll be singing auditions in. I usually walk from where I'm staying to the opera house, find the artist's entrance, make and early contact with the concierge, find out if the audition is in the theatre or in a rehearsal studio, etc. I don't like any surprises, and I don't want to be figuring out logistical questions at the last minute. There are always times when I don't have the luxury of doing reconnaisance ahead of time, but when I have it, I use it.

Anyway, in talking to the receptionist I realized she wasn't a native french speaker, and she noticed the same of me; imagine my surprise to find out that she was Canadian, and from Acton, about an hour from Toronto! She said the phrase that she and I have both heard over and over again, "but you don't have a Canadian accent!" - which to the French and Belgians actually means a Quebecois accent - and we both had a good laugh. She and her husband moved to Montpellier eight or nine years ago, and they are really enjoying the climate and culture there while they raise their two daughters (ages 10 and 6).

I left the Corum and spent quite a bit of time that first evening exploring the city, wandering around its little streets and finding many bistros and restaurants tucked away out of sight in odd corners of the town. There are a great many young people here, and the tables are crowded everywhere much later than I would have expected. I was in the mood for something simple and inexpensive, and found it at the Café Molière just behind the opera house. A salade Niçoise big enough for two, with corn, tomatoes, tuna, anchovies, olives, red cabbage, carrots and cucumber, and a little bread for 8 euro 50, and a 1/2 litre of rosé for 5 euro. Delicous!

day 2: April 27th: lesson and visit in Millau
I rented a little fiat car, and picked up a nice bottle of red wine from the region. I also had a little box of Neuhaus chocolate from Brussels that I'm bringing, a souvenir of Belgium, and some photographs of Bruce's and my visit in the summer of 2005.

The drive up through the Cevennes was really striking... everywhere there are these villages and towns nestled in the rugged mountainous landscape, perched on the edges of cliffs, guarding high plateaus and mountain passes. There are many historical sites as indicated by roadside signs, including lots of old abbeys and forts, even some of the Knights Templar; I did stop in at a couple of places, including Roquefort, where that delicious blue cheese is made, but it was more to plan ahead for next time I visit, since I didn't have time for tasting on this trip, and carried straight on to Millau.

I arrived mid-afternoon and after a quick stop at the Maison de Tourisme for a map, found the right villa. Unfortunately Madame Fleta was indisposed; she is physicially weaked since her illness of several years ago, and was not feeling well enough to be up and about, but was still in fighting form mentally and full of spirit, so we visited together for half an hour before Pierre summoned me into the studio and we set to work on my audition arias. He made sure to leave the door open for Madame to listen, saying that it would be a tonic for her: educated at the Sorbonne, she has a good ear, a polished sense of taste, and a great interest in opera, having worked as a singing agent for many years, and having supported her husband in his artistic career for many more.

I've got to say it was magical again to work with Monsieur Fleta, who was such a great mentor and role model for Bruce, my own teacher. As a student of something quirky and internal like singing, you often have to hear the advice of your teachers more than once; you also come to forget to do certain things because they have become automatic; then as your voice matures and changes, and the material you are singing changes, you have to return to your bag of tricks, your set of strategies and techniques, some of which you haven't had to examine for years, to approach things differently. Little tics, problems and bad habits can creep in without you noticing, so you need the assistance of an experienced set of ears, who can help you approach things from a different direction, and help you sing better. What a incredible resource this experienced and generous man is, after the long and varied career he has had, and how lucky am I to be able to learn from him.

He noted that had lost a little weight since 2005, which he thought was a good thing (he had mentioned discreetly but audibly to Bruce that I was peut-etre, un peu gros last time we met), so this made me smile. Both he and Madame were complimentary of the colour of my voice, and we were able to approach certain difficult passages with a more free voice and greater ease, such that I felt much more confident than before in my upcoming audition. His perspective was inspiring, and his performance suggestions very sensible and dramatic. I really do miss the regular working sessions with Bruce, but this is a good complement to his teaching.

We talked afterwards, the three of us, and I realize that Fleta hasn't taken on any students since arriving in Millau, and isn't looking for any, being happy to be retired. Nonetheless he and Madame told me that I should come back, and am welcome to stay there with them any time, and that we would work together on the voice. It was very generous, and I plan to return soon.

We talked for perhaps an hour together, had a strategy session about which houses I should write to next; he suggested a couple of directors whom I should contact in his name, and then I bid them bon soir with promises to pass their warmest regards on to Bruce, and left to drive back to Montpellier.

Lyon

I just got back this evening from Lyon, and am feeling very positive these days...

Not only did I have a great time in Avignon, last week, but just yesterday I took the TGV down to Lyon in about four hours, and holed up for an overnight stay in a hotel while watching "Qui veut gagner une million?" / "Who wants to be a millionaire?", which actually wasn't too difficult to follow, until we got in to French pop songs of the 1970s. I crashed quite early (travel takes it out of you) and rose early, warming up in the hotel, then went to the Opera house, which was renovated in 1993 and has an interestingly "updated" look. You can see a modern-looking black half-cylinder in the photograph above, but at ground level it has lots of the old opera house still intact, as you can see in the photo below.

I met the pianist, we rehearsed and then I went off to have lunch and try to stay calm, then returned for 1:30, and sang a very good audition. I was a very tiny bit intrigued by the video camera, as that is the first time I think I've been taped in an audition, but I wasn't terribly jittered by it, and feel quite satisfied in my vocal characterization(s) and performance. I had a chance to sing Zurga's aria from the Pearl Fishers, and then they asked for the Count Almaviva aria from "Le Nozze Di Figaro".

It was actually a lot better to sing it second today, as I felt a lot more warmed up than I have previously, starting with it. I had a good listen to my own audio recording of the audition, and I have nothing to be ashamed about in how I performed, and lots to celebrate, which is a good feeling. Now we wait and see, as usual, and start to think about the next one... (For anyone out there wondering if I ever get offered a job immediately after an audition, the answer is no, I don't, that's not how it works in the opera biz).

Lyon is very large, the third largest city in France after Paris and Marseille, and can claim up to almost two million inhabitants. It lies at the confluence of the Rhône and the Saône rivers, and has been inhabited since pre-roman times. The most notable landmark is the Fourvière Basilica in the hill overlooking the town, which was completed in 1896. It's staggering; I took the metro and funicilaire up to have a look, and the mosaics in the church are quite remarkable, although quite modern by european standards.

The roman founding of Lyon was in 43 BC, and as Lugdunum it became the capital of Roman Gaul, giving birth to two roman emperors, including Claudius. There are some roman ruins still extant today, most notably the large amphitheatre on the hill near the basilica. I'm not sure, but I have the feeling that some sort of spectacle is still performed there regularly, as they were rebuilding the stage when I was there for a visit this afternoon.

I'm here in Brussels for a few days and then am off again to the south of France, this time to visit with and sing with my teacher's teacher Monsieur Fleta, who lives with his wife near Montpellier. This will be the first time I visit them for quite a while, so I am very excited to make the contact again. We talked quite extensively on the telephone recently, and they sound in good humour and health, and he was highly complimentary of my french. I think travelling around France alone, and trying to make yourself understood, ask for directions, order a beer and even explain why you are there at all does wonders for one's confidence. I'm sorry to keep coming back to the language thing but it is a big deal for many people, and I'm proud of our progress as a family.

Anyway after a couple of days visiting with Monsieur et Madame Fleta, I will also be auditioning for the Opera de Montpellier, before returning on the 30th. I'll be spending some time with my sister Emily who is stucturing a Brussels visit around an Italy trip, and there will be some more opera seen during that period (Medée at La Monnaie), plus the celebration of Duncan's fifth birthday... then it's Malcolm's 9th, and then Queen's, and then we're getting close to coming home to Canada for our vacations...

So it's a busy time right now, and there's lots to do. Until next time...

Les voyages

I haven't posted in a while; having Maggie and the kids around for holidays has kept me too busy to sit at the computer for long. We did a fair amount of travelling during the two weeks we had off together, and I spent a few days in Provence this week (this is a picture of a me visiting a famous bridge in Avignon), and just returned yesterday.

Maggie has already blogged three times about our Easter holiday; I'm including links to her posts in this one so that you can read her eloquent descriptions of our adventures. In brief, we went to Edinburgh for three days to stay with Rob and Viki Freeland (see Maggie's posts here and here) then came back to Belgium for the rest of the first week. We socialized a bit with our neighbors and celebrated a birthday of Duncan's friend. I went to Liège to see the opening performance of Lalo's Le Roi d'Ys, which was lovely, and had a rising young Canadian soprano playing one of the leads. The story was based on an old Breton legend, and the music was stirring and quite beautiful.

My post-show euphoria didn't last long, however: although I left the opera promptly at 22:30, I was astonished to discover that there were no more trains back to Brussels! After a frustrated and disbelieving search through the train schedules, I decided to stay over in a hotel near the station and take a 7:00 train home the next day.

I arrived home rather wearied from the night's adventures, only to pack while Maggie picked up the rental car (a nice mid-size Mercedes diesel). We left around noon and set off for Hamburg to visit with Max and Séverine, our friends whom we had met during their visit to Canada in 2006. They have recently built a beautiful eco-house in Bad Bramstedt, near Hamburg, and are expecting their first child shortly. Here's Maggie's post for more.

On the way home from Hamburg we went for a late breakfast/lunch with Séverine's father Walter, whom we also had met in 2006. Walter showed us around his beautifully finished home and garden in Ebstorf. He is a musician and retired schoolteacher with a passion for classical music, so while we shared an elaborate German style breakfast to the sound of opera arias, we had plenty of time to catch up while the boys had fun climbing trees and looking at the goldfish in his outdoor garden pond.

While driving back into Belgium, we passed through the Netherlands, and imagine our surprise when while scanning through the radio dial, we heard the sound of Steve Patterson hosting CBD radio one's "The Debaters". The topic? Minor league hockey.

For a moment we were all reminded of weekend car trips home from the cottage, and after our cheering subsided, we realized that we had picked up a transmission from the Canadian contingent of the AFNORTH base near Aachen, on the German/Belgian border. It didn't last long, but we felt pretty good for hearing it, since our only source for Canadian culture these days is the online newspaper editions of the Globe, Star and (gulp) National Post, along with occasional visits to McLeans online. I wonder if I can get an international subscription to the Walrus?

It's funny, but Maggie had applied previously to the school at AFNORTH, and recently visited their school and met with some colleagues. While the schools are beautiful, the teachers positive and the students well behaved, some people never leave the base and its enclave of familiar US culture; the big bases have department stores with all of the familiar products, and you can almost pretend you haven't left your native soil. Seems kind of twilight zone-ish to me; isn't the whole point of an international career the new adventures you have, getting to know the new country and its people? In that sense we are lucky that things have worked out as they did...

Then we passed into Belgium, and saw a sign written in Flemish by the side of the road... I remarked to Maggie that it was great to see a familiar language at last!

We spent the rest of our holiday socializing, with our neighbors and then on the final weekend with some of Maggie's colleagues, at a restaurant called Chez Leon, in the rue des bouchers just steps from the Grand'place. Duncan ordered the moules frites, and surprisingly ate them all; I guess he's really starting to adapt to the Belgian lifestyle.

This week saw us return to the normal routine of school and work, although for me that routine was to be short-lived, as I headed south to Provence for an audition in Avignon. I flew to Nimes, and from there took the train to Avignon, and was struck by the fields of grapevines, purple flowering trees and chocolate-brown tilled earth on one side of the track, and the craggy, misty mountains that rose on the other side.

The colours in Provence seem to be drawn from an entirely different palette than I am used to seeing in Canada, or in Brussels. Everything seems sepia-shaded, with a warmth that oozes from the stones, the bleached terra-cotta roofs of the houses, the faces of the inhabitants, and the soil. It's like an old photograph come to life, although instead of looking worn-out or thin, Provence is old - yet lively - the way an old leather jacket is old; lived in, creased and distressed yet exceedingly comfortable.

The opera house was quite beautiful both inside and out, made of the same stone as much of the surrounding buildings. I toured the inner part of the city by foot, something that is very easy to do because of the human scale of these old places: unlike a new city, it actually is possible to walk across the old town in a matter of half an hour. The palace of the Avignon popes is an intriguing part of history, a monument to a time in the fourteenth century when Avignon, not Rome, was the heart of the Catholic church.


I arrived at the opera house in the afternoon, and met with the accompanist while the dress rehearsal for Rigoletto was going on. It was exciting to be there while the costumed cast ran up and down stairs, humming their bits, and I was energized for the run-through of my pieces. The accompanist and I got on well, and we talked a little bit about France, Brussels, and Canada; I was complimented, in fact, on my Brussels accent! It's not surprising, since Brussels French is what I'm hearing daily. I must say that it's great to be able to converse freely and confidently in my adopted language.

The audition went well, and it was a pleasure to sing in the historic theatre. Afterwards I relaxed in the hotel, ate a picnic lunch and started to think about the journey home.

That started fairly early the next morning. My train left Avignon at 9:00 and arrived in Nimes about a half an hour later, and as I had a bit more than an hour before the bus left for the Nimes airport, I took a walk from the station towards the city centre, and soon saw the most famous landmark of Nimes, the amphitheatre, which dates from the second century. It was built just a few years after the colosseum in Rome, and is the best preserved of perhaps 230 Roman stadiums that survive.


I climbed up to the top and was greeted with a dramatic view of the city. The Arènes of Nîmes is built in an oval shape 133m long, 101m wide and 21m high, seats 24,000 spectators, and because of its many corridors and exits allows for the stadium to empty of spectators in about four minutes! These passages are called vomitoria as they allow spectators to "spew" out of the stadium at a high rate of speed, and not because of any literal meaning, although there would likely be some queasy stomachs after some of the gladitorial combats. Let me put it this way: the word arena comes from the Latin word harēna, which means sand, and there was lots of it on the floor of the amphitheatre to sop up the blood. Yikes.

I didn't have much time to see anything else in Nimes, and in fact was just in time to take one of the last seats on the bus to the airport. From this point on the journey home was pretty tedious, beset with delays, starting with an hour on the runway waiting for a window to take off, continuing with another hour's delay taking the bus from Charleroi to Brussels Midi station, and culminating with another delay on the Louisa streetcar home. As it was, I checked out of the hotel in Avignon at 8:30 AM, and walked in the door at 6:30 PM in time for a nice dinner of steak frites that Maggie had prepared. I guess I have nothing to complain about, although I was pretty tired, but I was glad to be home.

Until next time...