Twelve Days in Asia
Kathryn Aaron (MM [voice] expected 2010)
Waiting on the steps of Woolsey Hall at five o’clock on a Sunday morning to board a bus to begin the journey to Asia, I clutched for my passport and my score of the B-minor Mass. Half awake, half asleep: as long as I have those two items everything is fine. Boarding the flight for a fifteen-hour flight from JFK to Hong Kong, my thoughts had barely begun to focus on the adventure that was ahead of me. As we chased the sunrise over the North Pole, most of the members of Schola Cantorum and Collegium Players were still shaking off the cold sweat of final papers so recently delivered to eager professors as they drifted into the listless sleep that only economy seats on an international flight can provide. The first leg of the tour would begin in Seoul, Korea, a three-hour plane ride from Hong Kong that drags you across one more time zone smack into the center of a brand new day, Monday.
So began the Schola and Collegium tour of Asia which would see Seoul, Beijing, and Shanghai within a twelve day span. It is truly peculiar to be in such a foreign land on an eating and sleeping schedule that has been turned on its head. Your eyes, stomach, nose, and heart never know what is around each corner. Seoul is a bustling metropolis with soaring high-rise apartments, immense highways, new universities, and lots of shopping. It seems like everyone owns a car. As I gazed at the tank of live eels swimming next to the omelette station at the hotel breakfast buffet, for a fleeting moment I wondered how I would make it to the other side of such a tour.
Our first sightseeing excursion was to the Changdeokgung Palace, originally built in 1405 and one of five that dot the city of Seoul. Since then the palace has been sacked and restored several times over but the site remains the same. It is also our first taste of Korean history and architecture. Hot reds contrasted with cool blues, greens, and bright poppy oranges adorn the underside of the peaked slate roofs of a vast system of buildings and gardens. Rain mixed with patches of a sunny sky as we strolled beneath ancient maples, marveled at the phenomenon of “lake rock” and spied giant koi in large stone ponds. The gardens were filled with lush flora and fauna that were similar to the ferns and birds we have at home yet distant enough cousins to look completely foreign. A small blue bird of unusual and exotic markings playing in a rain puddle watched us march pass to the next point of interest. That is until Simon and Hilary Carrington strode past. Like a dog suddenly seeing its master after a long absence, the bird flew to Hilary’s arm and then rested upon Simon’s shoulder. Clearly, the palace was entertaining one of earth’s true princes!
Our first concert was three days after we landed. Anyone who has traveled abroad knows how we must have been feeling physically. Robert Mealy and Simon gently led us through rehearsal. We were a pack of race horses who had run a good race in New Haven but were nervous about being able to produce again. With the oppressive exhaustion of jet lag and the intense desire to impress a foreign hall bearing down on us, we were spooked. Simon and Robert, seemingly untouched by the rigor of travel and each with their own particular brand of magic, soothed our anxiety and demonstrated the kind of cool handed approach that would make this concert possible. As Simon raised his baton to begin the two-hour extravaganza that is J. S. Bach’s Mass in B-minor in a hall filled with people, I spotted the fifth row filled with nuns. Like a Mack truck, the importance of what we were doing struck me. My heart swelled with joy and sustained me long past the point where my body should have given up. It is a gift to visit such a distant foreign country but to be able to offer something culturally in exchange is extraordinary. Our offering was met with thunderous appreciation.
Beijing, still glowing from the 2008 Olympics, has a skyline that dwarfs Seoul. Non-unionized labor has allowed the major cities of Asia to develop at a seemingly unchecked and frightening rate. Like Seoul, Beijing has a passion for modern art and embraces a modern to post-modern aesthetic with ancient life living in its shadows. Rows and rows of apartments line the immense rose-covered highway system which is overflowing with cars. From the Great Wall to the Forbidden City, Beijing has a hustle and bustle to it that would rival any major U. S. city. Completing the incredibly steep climb of a section of the Great Wall was a major check on the list of things people should do before they die, but to be able to see Tian’an Men Square, and not only walk through the Forbidden City as a tourist but perform on its concert stage the same day left us overwhelmed.
Despite the heightened fears of swine flu, which led the Chinese universities to cancel some of the workshops originally scheduled, every place we traveled met us with genuine curiosity. Several members of Schola and Collegium had regular requests for pictures with babies and engaged couples. From haggling in the markets for pearls and treasures to drinking in the vibrant colors and tones of the Peking Opera to the sheer delight of watching Chinese acrobats perform, we happily moved about as one corporeal unit of 55 instrumentalists and singers. Soon our family would absorb our beloved tour guides as newly anointed members of the pack. Scott and Andrew deftly steered us through airports, rescued us from the threat of quarantine, gave us the edge when haggling for souvenirs, generously shared stories about their country and their lives, and introduced us to a clear liquor served in tiny crystal glasses at dinner with a similar texture and proof to that of moonshine.
Shanghai, the final leg, found us acclimated and almost well rested. Everyone sang and played magnificently, but it was time to go home. So we left the Longemont Hotel, our bellies full of dim sum, our hearts full of incredible memories, and bid a very fond farewell to our tour guides. Twelve days of performing and traveling through Asia had flown by like mere hours. One last dance through immigration on a group visa and we boarded together for the last time.
To lose an entire day, as we had at the beginning of the trip, is one thing but to be perpetually trapped in one that seems to never end is quite another. Thursday continued as our flight dragged us back in time to where we began. The bus from JFK deposited us back on to the steps of Woolsey Hall just shy of midnight. As I rolled my suitcase home over the newly finished Temple Street bridge across Trumbull Street to my quiet little apartment, I began to feel the restlessness of a world traveler. The alien quality of home and its solitude floated around me. My mind tingled with confusion as I could now read and understand every sign my gaze rested upon. I had suddenly shed the mental weight of a group and was on my own again. Seoul, Beijing, and Shanghai swept over me, and I looked at the stars. I found Orion’s Belt immediately. I smiled and sighed. I was home again.
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