This morning, slightly restless and nervous about the dryness in my nose and wondering whether or not I could ever really wake up, Kristi played the perfect stage mom and herded me into readiness with breakfast and tea. She took me all the way to the train and made sure I got where I was going. The train to Düsseldorf is so fast, I hardly believed that we were able to get there so quickly. In the time it took me to put on my makeup, we were there and I was finding my way to the U-bahn. I think my sense of direction is only betting better, and I found the opera house in no time. Warmed up and really started to feel like myself again, met with the pianist, who was marvelous, and then just chilled until it was time to sing. I went first, to facilitate eating lunch before the train. I started with Fire, they asked for the first Queen, and then the second Queen. The house is beautiful, but the use of upright pianos on the stage, I am convinced, is some kind of hazing ritual. They put you up there with all the set pieces and this junky little instrument that’s nearly impossible to hear, they make you stand halfway back so they can see how you project in the house. The more I sing her, the more I feel like the 2nd Queen and I are coming to an agreement. I promise not to beat her too badly, and she promises not to make me pay for it. And then, when it’s all said and done and I know I look like a million bucks and they’ve heard me sing pretty darn well, they thank me very very much for coming, and say that they have all my contact information and will be calling me very soon. Squee!!
This means I’m more than halfway done with auditions. Basel is tomorrow and then München on Friday. And you know what? I think I’m really getting a handle on this. I know how to be charming, I know how to be polite in this foreign language, I know how to sing, and this is just an opportunity for me to share that with some new people. I enjoy being here, and I feel like my kind of singing fits in over here a lot more than in the States. But before I get too far ahead of myself, I have to say a big thank-you to my sweet family members, who let me chill out at their place for the weekend, and to my friend Kristi, for housing me for two nights in Köln and being so incredibly level-headed and normal, despite all of my singer crazy. Most of all, I’m saying a thank-you to Dr. James McDonald and his wife, Dr. Annie McDonald, without whom I would still be a little early music singer who never wanted to cause a stir with her singing, and whose guidance made it possible for me to embark upon this insanity in the first place. I’m an opera singer, on an ICE train from Düsseldorf to Basel, I haven’t had to ask anyone a thing in English for the last eleven days, and there’s a very good possibility I’ve garnered some work, or at the very least, the interest of some prominent opera houses in Germany. To Dr. J, I send my deepest thanks and gratitude, for helping me become the singer I never knew I could be, and for setting the example for the kind of teacher and mentor I wish to become.
Rule Number One: Never Panic
I know I’m American because I never expect trains to be on time. I know I’m German because the punctuality of German trains lightens my heart in a way that most people find unnatural. So when my ICE train came to a stop outside of Mannheim, I was a little surprised to hear the very cordial voice come over the Lautsprecher to tell us that there were people on the platform and therefore the train could not pass. I was even more surprised when another ten minutes went by before the cordial voice came back to tell us that the police had been called to deal with this problem. Another ten minutes later, my connecting train to Basel long gone, I found myself very glad that I had availed myself of Uncle Licky’s Layer Rule because the Mannheim Bahnhof was downright cold. Nary a Starbucks in sight, so no free internet to make the time pass, but I did do a few laps around the shopping area, just to stretch my legs. So now I’m back on the train, settled happily in my table seat in the quiet car, listening to Midsummer Night’s Dream, taking in the industrial landscape, only a few short hours away from dinner with Cristi and an overdue visit with Eugene. Naptime?
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