Rome Journal, I

Yes, I've been away. Physically far away, and also silent for some time in order to process recent events, because I didn't want to add unhelpful words to the torrent. But now, we're back, and I'll gradually add some photographs and entries from the journal I kept during the first two weeks of November, when we were in Rome - as it turns out, an entirely appropriate place from which to witness history, and try to record one's own impressions.

 Somewhere over the Alps.

November 3, 2016  7:15 am

Jonathan adjusts the electronic window shade in the Boeing 787 and the sun comes up. We're just about to cross Ireland and head out over St. George's Channel en route to London. I've slept at least two hours and feel fairly good as the cabin crew comes around with coffee, tea, muffins. But for the last hour I've been listening to Simon Rattle and the Weiner Philharmoniker play Beethoven's 5th. Earlier in the flight I'd listened to the 1st and 3rd symphonies, but now, after some sleep, and closer to Europe, I feel like hearing the 5th again.

It is, in a word, perfect: the storms of war, the foreboding beginning, the turmoil of the incredible third movement, and finally the resolution and hopefulness of the 4th. I pull off the headphones, shaking my head. This is a touchstone for me, this overplayed work of absolute genius. I rarely listen to it on purpose - of course we all encounter it on the radio, in the background - but when I actually do, each time there is something revelatory.  Ten years ago, when Kent Nagano had first come to direct the Orchestre Symphonique de Montreal, he did the full Beethoven cycle, and I heard the 5th one night from a seat on the side of the balcony: the live performance, very beautifully played, made me feel I had never really heard it before. And now, Rattle's early recording makes me listen hard again to Beethoven's commentary on the anxiety of his own times, during this week of our anxiety, and reminds me that the human spirit survives in spite of everything.

London, 11:30 am

The flight arrives late at Heathrow, and we have only an hour to change terminals, go through security yet again, and get to our gate. We're waiting for the train that ferries passengers between terminals when I realize that I've left my jacket, the only outerwear I've brought on the trip, under the airplane seat. I decide to head back, agreeing to meet J. at the departure gate. He leaves on the train, and I discover that it's impossible to go back: the doors only open one way, but I remember that there are customer service stations for arriving passengers with connections, so I head up the escalator, berating myself for my stupidity. The British Airways agent calls the arrival gate and explains the problem. "Go on through security," she tells me, "or you'll miss your flight. When you arrive at the gate, have them call again, and we'll hope that someone can meet you there."

I calm down, and go through the required process, find the gate for the afternoon flight to Rome, and ask the boarding attendant to make the call. She does, and suggests that I sit near the desk to wait: "They have the jacket," she says, "and they'll send someone over, but we're going to be boarding soon, so sit close to the desk so we can find you if they get here in time..." 

Then I look in the crowded waiting area for J., who should have arrived well ahead of me. But he isn't anywhere to be seen. There's no message on my phone. I send a text; I call but his voicemail picks up; I walk around a little, getting worried. They're calling the flight, but he's nowhere to be seen. Just then a young man arrives at the desk with a black parcel under his arm - it's my jacket! I greet him gratefully and sign a form, and then begin scanning the thinning crowd again. When almost everyone has boarded I see J. hurrying toward the gate, looking disheveled. "My prescription skin medication triggered the scanner, and they totally disassembled me," he said. "My phone and computer had been shunted off along with the carry-on, so I couldn't call you." So much for our decision to take only carry-on luggage! But we pull ourselves together, show our boarding passes, and get on the plane, hoping that all the glitches are now behind us. In a few minutes we're airborne, and soon over the mountains: when we cross them, it will be  Italy, for the first time in my life.

Comments

[Kathy Hughes]

I am sorry you had traveli issues!! But sounds like it was worth it...sometimes overcoming adversity makes it more special.!

[Natalie]

What a nightmare, Beth! So glad you and Jonathan managed to sail through it virtually unscathed. This sort of experience is the kind that makes one wonder whether air travel is ever a good idea1

[Marly Youmans]

Ben just went to London--and the start was entirely disheveled, and we ended up having to drive him to NYC late the night before.... and the trip was wonderful, so I'm expecting the same form this story!

[Marly Youmans]

Typo, my enemy! "From" not "form."

[Roderick Robinson]

Strange the relationship we have with music, how it ebbs and flows.With something as familiar as the fifth you ask yourself when did I last hear it all the way through? And it may have been years, yet it seems it was always there. The fifth (Eric Kleiber, Concertgebouw) was the first LP I ever bought, in the early fifties when only mono was available. Played over and over since in those days the cost of an LP was a significant percentage of my disposable income and I couldn't afford another LP for some time. Then, of course, reaction set in and it was left on the shelf. Only to be revivified and rediscovered in a live performance (Klemperer, Phiharmonia) at the Festival Hall in London.

More recently another rediscovery. At my singing lessons my teacher deliberately picks out comparatively difficult pieces (O Isis und Osiris, She came thro' the fair) intended to illuminate different skills. These I practice at home along with other simpler, narrower-range songs I've dug out myself and which I sing for fun. Dowland's Come Again, Sweet Love Doth Now Invite being typical. But the recordings showed I was making a hash of the first three notes which (dotted crotchet, quaver, semibreve) couldn't have been simpler. But where had I first heard the song? Janet Baker, of course. I played her version and she immediately gave me the answer: more briskly, greater emphasis on the third note. But then I played her again, and again... Normally I'm obsessive, wanting to sing all the time, risking hoarseness but this... this was a reminder why, at eighty, I suddenly felt the need to learn how to sing. For the joy of it, naturally but also to be a tiny part of it, better able to comprehend the joy.

Heathrow! And they want to add a third runway! The third visit to New Zealand just over a decade ago left us both with the conviction that that would be the last long-distance flight for us. That there'd be no more panicky stratagems to find a seat with more leg-room, no more hours spent reading simply to pass time. My heart bled for you both but there was grim confirmation we'd made the right decision.

[mary]

I so enjoyed reading a long post from you again. Looking forward to hearing more about Italy after seeing all the wonderful photos on Instagram.

[Hattie]

The Alps. I miss them. We lived in Switzerland for 13 years. They are much more severe than people think and always inspiring.

[Blork]

This photo of the Alps just kills me because I saw the exact same view when I flew from Montreal to Rome via London back in 1998. I was stunned at how close the mountaintops seemed, and amazed at the details I could see. At one point I saw a chalet (literally a "swiss chalet") at the top of one of the mountains and it was so close I felt like I could see in the windows. I wondered what it was like for people in the chalet to see planes fly over so close. One of my standout memories from that trip.

[Beth]

Thanks, Kathy! It all turned out fine.

Natalie, well, we have no choice but to travel to Europe by air, so one just has to put up with the hassles. I was interested to see that security regulations for leaving Montreal were less stringent that for entering the EU.

Marly, yes, it all gets better from here!

Robbie, I understand why you don't want to take long flights anymore. For us, this is the period of life when we've finally got the time and the funds to be able to travel, so we will unless it gets a lot more awful. We flew on BA and they were good this time, on all four flights, it was just Heathrow... but about the music, I love your statement on why you are singing: "For the joy of it, naturally but also to be a tiny part of it, better able to comprehend the joy." That is so much the same for me. Yesterday, all day immersed in Healey Willan and many others, culminating in the 1 1/2-hour Advent Lessons&Carols service - what a joy that was.

Thank you, Mary, for saying that - and there's more forthcoming. I'm awfully glad to see that some people are still reading here!

Hattie - I wanted the plane to land so I could be in those mountains again myself. We will go, I hope. I would love to be in Switzerland again, and also the French Alps near Mt Blanc and Chamonix, which I thought were incredibly beautiful and yes, severe!

Ed, the views on both flights were amazing! I didn't see any buildings but I wasn't in the window seat ;-)