Have some catching up to do.
Writing in-flight on my return from ZRH. 5h40m to arrival.
I think I left off Saturday night after the Adriana Lecouvreur matinée in Salzburg. After being steeped in Wagner for three days, Cilea seemed like a bunch of Italians stomping around and yelling at each other. The melodies seemed so obvious. It was singspielish. Aria, récit, aria, duet, blah. Funnily, when our heroine dies in Act IV, the poisoned violets (generally viewed as one of opera’s more ridiculous plot elements) seemed normal. If I were to do this kind of trip again, I think I would end with Wagner in order to let the feelings linger a bit more. For cripes’ sake, I’m listening to Parsifal on my headphones now.
After returning to the hostel and properly freshening up, I went to the nearby Die Weisse, a Biergarten.
Had some spinach dumplings, salad, and a couple dunkelweiss and a jubilator. Then decided to check out the local hosteler scene, been a while since I socialized. Had a good chat with the bartender and a young German fellow who is interning in Salzburg marketing their soccer team(s). The barback offered some ideas for touring the local mountains. For lack of better thought I figured I’d go to Großglockner Hochalpenstraße, a 10k m+ road I did in 2010. But that would have been 3h in and 3h out, a big push to see one thing. I was mostly avoiding this , preferring to draw up my routes organically. So I was grateful for his advice. When I returned he was outside smoking, I showed him my GPS tracks, and he said “you went everywhere I said!” Yes, well, I must be a good listener.
Ride an hour, cappuccino. Ride an hour, lunch, ride an hour, ice cream. A good way to live. Every turn a picture postcard and all the bikes came out to play on a sunny Sunday. Dual-sport “adventure” bikes in spades, as well as light sport tourers, a good rep of Harleys (who can get in a proper lean, I’ll have you know), bigger tourers, some Brits and minimalists… I can’t think of anything I didn’t see. Roads too twisty to give the wave except in the rare straightways.
Picked a route that took me down into valleys as well as had two proper mountain ascents (and descents!) at Obertauern and Königssomething, will have to check my tracks. Loved the R Nine T in the Twisties, not that I’m dropping a knee or anything, but very responsive all-round. Not that the suspension (non-settable WTF?!) is anything to write home about. It’s also super fun to have sport tires for the first time in a long while.
8 hours in the Alps, freshened up for Medée by Cherubini at the Salzburger Festspiele. The first of this trip’s eight operas that I had not previously seen. It’s a bit of a rarity, but it’s the standard Medea story, picking up at Jason’s marriage to Dirce. Gotta settle down, get rid of the foreign woman, keep those kids tho, and think about the family dynasty. Medea get’s a day’s reprieve and kills Dirce and then her and Jason’s children as revenge. Deus ex machina not included.
New production by Simon Stone. This would have played very well at the Met, and I’m still not sure if that’s a sideways insult or not. Two concepts at play here. One: Contemporary setting. Very theatrically designed sets: like, every naturalistic detail, bordered (no, crossed) into the busy. But so! fun! to look at! Every scene is on wagons that fit beautifully into the proscenium, mostly along the bottom half but also the top. Has a diorama effect which parcels out the action (and plays well with distance) and creates very intimate (1/6 set) or very open (1/2 or even full set). But the action is also framed inside a silent film narrative. The overture opens with a screen that takes up the whole stage: B&W, handheld montage-like narrative of our Jason getting caught with Dirce when Medea comes home (one of the kids forgot his violin for the school recital.) The film works well, (it uses the actual singers), but between scenes it drags a bit – Medea’s pleading phone calls start to feel a bit like we’re watching La Voix Humaine by Poulenc, and at a certain point it stops adding anything. Kind of a miss there.
First act: Dirce prepares to wed Jason: bridal salon, bridesmaids fitting, fussing, twirling, racking dresses – it’s great. Medea here is sent into exile (modern day Turkey, ‘natch) and pleas to Jason from a ratty internet cafe, replete with phone booth and teenage gamers. Wedding eve: Dirce in her and Jason’s new modern Euro apartment, kids eat spaghetti, domestic life. Super modern, great. Scrim reveals the upper stage: international arrivals, Medea’s back asking Creon for asylum. Gets livecast as a news item into the Dirce/Jason living room TV at the bottom – so they can act/sing/respond to each other across sets. Boom. Medea gets her day’s reprieve to see the kids and process it all, shows at the wedding venue, chokes out a waitress and takes her uniform, walks in and stabs Dirce, and flees with the kids. Final scene: gas station, sedan pulled to the pump. Stage otherwise bare. Everything that was boxed in and parceled out is over now: this is Medea’s great reckoning. Aria; Jason shows up, she splashes gas everywhere, gets into the backseat with the kids, lighter in hand. Reasonably awesome stage effects as the car ignites, chorus, curtain.
Elena Sitkhina was a beast of a Medea. Jason was way out of his range, off voice, very poor showing. Kowalijow as Creon, fine. Cherubini – eh, I don’t think he’s got a ton to offer. Everything seemed very arpeggiated. (There’s a passage that sounds for all the world like proto-Philip Glass.) I don’t think his arias hang super well within the drama. Maybe I’ll rethink this on a relisten.
Is the production a success? 18th century and older works usually benefit from over or under production. Look at all the spare baroque stuff that’s being done now – I can look at a color-transition scrim and someone in a bonkers pile of organza sing an aria da capo any day of the week. These productions give the work room to breathe: we can rest in the contemplative midst of the aria, a pause in time. Overproduction can work, too: fill in all the workaday details so we are steeped in the time and place (esp if re-set in time.) But the latter approach can be so distracting – I really don’t need to see Medea’s kids have their third pillow fight in as many acts (they aren’t even singing roles!) and without a cinematic way to take focus off of them (the way a camera could) there is little to keep my eye from darting to these sideshows.
Penne arrabiata at a tucked-away restaurant by the University Square down from the Festspielhaus. Had the lovely realization that I haven’t eaten a proper meal indoors in 9 days. Everywhere a café or bistro with outdoor seating, usually covered, and an empty restaurant inside. Also lots of outdoor high-tops which can be a nice reprieve from being in riding posture for too long.
This morning an early rise (4:45am) to return the bike to Zurich. About 400km in about 4 hours, made good time though most of my company was SLO/RO/PL truck drivers. Bus then train to the airport, quick shower in the lounge Have to be somewhat considerate of my seatmate. My boots reek and I haven’t taken them off all flight. I think when I get home I’ll have to put my jacket in a storage tote with baking soda and activated charcoal.
What worked:
Man, this whole itinerary just hung together perfectly. Never fewer than two nights in one place, days riding and nights at the opera. This wasn’t a trip for art museums or city walking, but I am so grateful for the time just idling over a coffee with a view to the Alps/countryside/Altstadt while strains of the last night’s (or upcoming) music filter thru my head.
Obviously the bike was a great sexy beast, and I won’t say my lower back hurts because then I’d sound old. Anyhoo, that much saddle time on any bike takes its toll. It hasn’t extinguished the desire for a large-bore Euro bike, tho.
Minimalist packing: tail bag and backpack really worked, and while no one wants to do laundry on vacation, I fit it in to my schedule and no complaints.
I did get some sideways looks at my motorcycle boots. (I am also especially self-conscious having recently learned that only Americans wear brown shoes with suits of any color.) But also at moto parking in Salzburg last night a late-50s guy in a tuxedo – or to the Germans, ein Smoking – straddled his Vespa, his wife in cocktail dress jumped on behind, saw me tucking my program under the pillion strap of the beemer and gave me a quick expression of camaraderie.
What didn’t:
Really disappointed I didn’t see the new Tannhauser, which is a big buzz. Gotta remember that the productions at Bayreuth I did see are new to me, and that’s enough. I’ve also never seen Tannhauser so it would be cool to say I’ve only seen it in Bayreuth, which would be such great fun to trot out when I want to feel particularly insufferable. I feel kinship with Wagner, the world’s greatest dilettante.
Couldn’t fit anything of Cecilia Bartolli from Salzburg into my sched. She doesn’t fly on airplanes or somesuch nonsense so there’s no opportunity to hear her in the States.
Not talking to anyone much esp at Bayreuth. There weren’t a ton of singlets and my German still sucks. I think I could re-do this trip in 5 years and that would give me enough time to finally get down to the Goethe Institute and get some actual German in my head.
I brought some Thomas Mann short stories and only read one. I had better luck with the Wagner commentaries, surprisingly.
I never take enough pictures.
What’s changed:
I feel like I hit a lot more construction traffic than in 2010.
Rest stops are dirtier, coffee is worse.
Hostelers spend a lot of time on electronics.
Gas still frightfully expensive.
What hasn’t:
Driver ability still excellent. I’ll do my mileage tally later but I saw zero collisions or fender-benders. Never noticed a distracted driver weaving or not keeping pace with traffic.
Motorcycles still kings of the road. Everyone gives way to pass (passing on the left is not a hostile move in EU), park (er, almost) anywhere, toll reduction (only one tunnel toll cash pay – the rest done by weekly/monthly/annual sticker – just buy it at a gas station or service shop and you’re good to go. Not every country does this but AT and CH do.
Things I haven’t figured out yet:
Why, when I would order milchkaffee or kaffe crème in vending machines and get coffee with room for milk but usually no other milk to be found?
Whether Parsifal’s Kundry is immortal or living multiple lives?
Why I have to pay €2 for a one-sheet cast list at the opera?
How some of the tallest nations in the world build theaters that have my knees feeling pressed? Salzburg especially, with straight seatbacks like some kind of Lutheran masochist fantasy.
If I eat my salad before my entrée, am I being judged?