The downside of being so incredibly tired is that you never feel like you’ve slept enough. And then, when you’ve slept so much you’re no longer tired, you do silly things like stay up until 1 or 2 reading a new book, just because you can. And when breakfast is served until nearly 11am, why both getting up early? Which is why I’m yawning in large fashion on the train to Erfurt, on day 6 of this trip.
The concerts are over, I went to the Bayerische Staatsoper to see Ariadne auf Naxos with Corey and had the exquisite joy of sitting in the follow spot alcove for the whole thing, sipping a coke and stretching whenever I felt like it, and now the real work begins. Starting tomorrow, I’m in audition mode. No adventurous foods, lots of good sleep, lots of water, and a double dollop of moisturizer, because makeup does not sit well on dry skin. It’s been snowing quite a bit here so all of the land I can see from the train looks like a Currier and Ives tin – beautiful trees and rolling hills, dusted with white, just waiting to be visited by an angel or a horse-drawn sleigh.
I have my seat here in the quiet car, a table seat all to myself, and another two hours before I have to switch trains at Fulda.
I don’t know what is to come with this trip. When I stepped out of the Munich airport and into the lightly falling snow, I felt strangely at home. Walking through the bowels of the opera house with Corey, it’s as if something calls to me and says, “you belong here.” It’s possible that I could have the kind of career I want to have, if I’m willing to give up the comforts we’ve built living in the States, but once again I’m ahead of myself. For now, it’s me and the Deutsche Bahn and the peaceful countryside, whooshing past me at high speed. One Schritt at a time.
Sightseeing on the fly
Erfurt has a Strassenbahn, so I got to see a little of the city from the Bahnhof to my little hotel. Well, a hotel might be a gross overstatement of what it actually was. The word “hotel” was in the name, but it’s really more of a “pension,” a cross between a hotel and hostel – not so grungy as a hostel, but not nearly as nice as a hotel. I did have my own room and bathroom, but the Mitarbeiter were smoking in the kitchen and every time I turned on the fan in the bathroom, I would get a little cloud of yuck. Disgusting.
Rather than just hang out in the room, I decided to do a little sight-seeing, starting with the Dom. It’s a lovely old building, with lots of paintings and gilded things and not a single person inside. Isn’t it heartbreaking that people spent so much love and labor on a religious place of pilgrimage, and there are no pilgrims about? I spent a little quiet time with the Blessed Virgin, and then decided to visit the café. It’s my experience that there’s nothing quite like cathedral cafes, and this was no exception. Homemade Pflaumkuchen – my absolute favorite – and coffee out of the machine, which is actually better than most cups of brewed coffee I’ve had in Europe. It was a nice little stop before my very cold walk down to the old bridge. I made my way back to the hotel restaurant (there’s that word “hotel” again). Luckily, the food was everything I wanted it to be – hot, traditional and Preiswert. Sauerbraten, Thuringen’s own special kind of potato dumpling, and purple cabbage. YUM.
Slept reasonably well, ate breakfast, and even hitched a ride over to the Theater from the landlord. He offered to drive me to Dresden this afternoon, but I don’t know that I could manage so many hours in a car with a total stranger in a foreign language. Plus, Frank would string me up if I got in a car and drove three hours with a total stranger. I’ll give on this one. The audition was an interesting experience. I didn’t realize that most of these audition times I’ve been given are “start times,” and not actual times at which I will sing. So I was told 12 noon, and so were about 15 other people. We get a few minutes with the pianist, and then we are summoned over the loudspeaker to the Buehne. I sang passably well, certainly not my most spectacular, but the acoustic from where I was standing was just awful. Couldn’t hear a thing. But that’s over now. I’m back in the quiet car of the Deutsche Bahn, laptop with movies, a cup of coffee and a piece of Pflaumkuchen, on my way to Dresden. I have all day tomorrow to chill out and see the city, and then audition again on Friday. Between now and then, I will, I must find my zen place. The place where I can sing without fear or judgment, only enjoying this marvelous thing I’m so privileged to do. But for now, Colin Firth and Pflaumkuchen.
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