Think back. Think back 15 years.
Imagine your reaction if someone had said to you, in 1991,
"Google my blog."
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
tragic
While in Country Bordering Thailand, I was invited with some others to attend a performance by the national symphony orchestra. The four of us were the first foreigners to be invited to such a performance, and much was made of us. We were seated front and center, and the TV cameras spent as much time filming us as they did shooting the orchestra.
This orchestra was started only a few years ago--apparently when this country was allowed into ASEAN, the government decided to found this group to keep up with the Joneses. The members are mostly self-taught, because there aren't any music teachers in the country. A few of them have studied abroad for a few months at most, and some of the younger members are allowed to participate in the youth orchestra that we host at my university in Thailand.
The concert was the most bizarre musical experience I've ever had. At the end of the concert my hostess asked what I thought, and all I could say was, "tragic."
It wasn't that they aren't a great orchestra--I mean, a new group staffed with self-taught musicians playing on hand-me-down instruments isn't exactly going to be the Concertgebouw, nor should it, and that's just fine. It was more than that.
They had clearly rehearsed the music for hours and hours. Some aspects of it were right on--for instance, I've rarely heard a string section play such crisp, together pizzicato. But other things, like the tuning process, made me want to cry. Everyone played an A in unison, and then no one adjusted their instruments! It's as though someone had seen a video of an orchestra tuning, and said, "We should do that!" It was so clear that they didn't know what tuning was for.
Then there was the repertoire. They did a mix of standard-repertoire warhorses (first movement of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony, the famous movement of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, stuff like that) and patriotic songs. These included one with the title "The Stronger the Army Is, the Stronger the Country Will Be." While playing this music, every musician in this orchestra maintained a facial expression of despair. I've seen a lot of orchestras, and I've seen a lot of string players make goofy faces while playing. Some of them look ecstatic, some look passionate, some (thankfully) look merely alert and focused, and some look...well, constipated. But I've never, before this concert, seen a string player just look sad. And here was a whole orchestra of them, sawing away in morose concentration.
During the Schubert, the conductor got lost and conducted the wrong beat for a long time. One piece, a Mozart overture (I forget which one), they didn't even finish. They just stopped in the middle, at the point up to which they'd rehearsed.
Now, I don't want to sound like a musical snob, looking down my nose at an inferior orchestra. Let me say again, there's nothing wrong with not being a great orchestra. It's fine not to have a violin section full of Itzhak Perlmans. What was tragic about this concert were the things I've described--
The bizarre tuning process. Clearly they're trying to emulate other orchestras, but they don't understand what they're trying to do.
The absolutely wretched looks on all of the players' faces, combined with the aspects of the performance that made it clear they've spent many, many hours rehearsing this music.
The absolute lack of understanding of even basic ideas (like, not stopping in the middle of the piece) about the performance of Western music.
All of the above, combined with the fact that the government wants to use this orchestra to show that they are just as good as the national orchestras of Thailand, of Malaysia, of Singapore. These musicians are working hard, and no one is helping them (because there's no one in the country who can, and since it's the national orchestra, a foreigner couldn't possibly have anything to contribute), and unless that changes, they're never going to get any better.
This orchestra was started only a few years ago--apparently when this country was allowed into ASEAN, the government decided to found this group to keep up with the Joneses. The members are mostly self-taught, because there aren't any music teachers in the country. A few of them have studied abroad for a few months at most, and some of the younger members are allowed to participate in the youth orchestra that we host at my university in Thailand.
The concert was the most bizarre musical experience I've ever had. At the end of the concert my hostess asked what I thought, and all I could say was, "tragic."
It wasn't that they aren't a great orchestra--I mean, a new group staffed with self-taught musicians playing on hand-me-down instruments isn't exactly going to be the Concertgebouw, nor should it, and that's just fine. It was more than that.
They had clearly rehearsed the music for hours and hours. Some aspects of it were right on--for instance, I've rarely heard a string section play such crisp, together pizzicato. But other things, like the tuning process, made me want to cry. Everyone played an A in unison, and then no one adjusted their instruments! It's as though someone had seen a video of an orchestra tuning, and said, "We should do that!" It was so clear that they didn't know what tuning was for.
Then there was the repertoire. They did a mix of standard-repertoire warhorses (first movement of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony, the famous movement of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, stuff like that) and patriotic songs. These included one with the title "The Stronger the Army Is, the Stronger the Country Will Be." While playing this music, every musician in this orchestra maintained a facial expression of despair. I've seen a lot of orchestras, and I've seen a lot of string players make goofy faces while playing. Some of them look ecstatic, some look passionate, some (thankfully) look merely alert and focused, and some look...well, constipated. But I've never, before this concert, seen a string player just look sad. And here was a whole orchestra of them, sawing away in morose concentration.
During the Schubert, the conductor got lost and conducted the wrong beat for a long time. One piece, a Mozart overture (I forget which one), they didn't even finish. They just stopped in the middle, at the point up to which they'd rehearsed.
Now, I don't want to sound like a musical snob, looking down my nose at an inferior orchestra. Let me say again, there's nothing wrong with not being a great orchestra. It's fine not to have a violin section full of Itzhak Perlmans. What was tragic about this concert were the things I've described--
The bizarre tuning process. Clearly they're trying to emulate other orchestras, but they don't understand what they're trying to do.
The absolutely wretched looks on all of the players' faces, combined with the aspects of the performance that made it clear they've spent many, many hours rehearsing this music.
The absolute lack of understanding of even basic ideas (like, not stopping in the middle of the piece) about the performance of Western music.
All of the above, combined with the fact that the government wants to use this orchestra to show that they are just as good as the national orchestras of Thailand, of Malaysia, of Singapore. These musicians are working hard, and no one is helping them (because there's no one in the country who can, and since it's the national orchestra, a foreigner couldn't possibly have anything to contribute), and unless that changes, they're never going to get any better.
she is the only one
So, while I was on my trip to Country Bordering Thailand,* I was lucky enough to have access to a car and driver. (I might never have found the music school, left to my own wits!) The driver is an employee of the woman I was staying with, who is also the owner of the car. He washes the car at least twice a day, either because he's really proud to drive it, or because his job is really boring when there's nowhere to go.
He's about my age and he looks like most of the other men I met: very clean-cut, no facial hair or shaggy haircut, neatly tied sarong instead of pants, red-stained teeth from betel. His father is also a driver for a white family.
On the last full day of my trip he came to work in the morning and pulled the car up to the door, and when my hostess saw him she exclaimed and applauded. It seems he was wearing a jacket (a freaking JACKET! do you have any idea how hot it was?) in the color that is associated with Opposition Party Whose Members Get Arrested All The Time. My hostess was wearing the same color; it turns out that that day was the anniversary of the founding of the OPWMGAATT.
We got going towards the school, and I noticed that he'd taken off his jacket and laid it carefully on the floor of the car. Not long after we'd left the house, we encountered the only traffic jam I ever saw in this country: it seems that on this occasion, the government decided the usual roadblocks and unpaved street (on what seems to be a main road) near Nobel Laureate's house just weren't enough for their peace of mind. They set up additional roadblocks, closing off the street completely, and fortified their position with soldiers. Guys with really big guns. So everyone in the city had to take a detour.
We went by the headquarters of OPWMGAATT (which the driver had pointed out to me the previous day--I think he took "the long way" just so he could show me). On this day, it was surrounded by a small group of people: those brave enough to come out and publicly declare their support for the opposition. He turned to me and started on the longest speech I'd ever heard from him at one time (usually he talked to me in single, staccato sentences that took him a little time to think out in English--this must have taken him a while to translate).
That night, I played a concert with my hostess. We were the entertainment at a reception for the OPWMGAATT, presented by the U.S. Embassy on the occasion of the anniversary of the movement's founding. As I think I mentioned before, the guests of honor were not in attendance because they'd been arrested.
My hostess had given the driver the night off--she thought she'd drive us there herself, both so that he could go home to his family, and so that he wouldn't have to be associated with such a politically charged event. Well, he didn't stand for that. He absolutely insisted on driving us there. After a conversation in This Country's Language, my hostess turned to me and shrugged. "He wants to go."
*Yeah, I know, this blog is on no one's radar and it probably doesn't matter if I shout out names, places, and dates, but...well, these people think freaking Yahoo! and hotmail are subversive...I think I'm going to keep being circumspect, if only to remind me (and my readers, if any) just how bizarre this place is.
He's about my age and he looks like most of the other men I met: very clean-cut, no facial hair or shaggy haircut, neatly tied sarong instead of pants, red-stained teeth from betel. His father is also a driver for a white family.
On the last full day of my trip he came to work in the morning and pulled the car up to the door, and when my hostess saw him she exclaimed and applauded. It seems he was wearing a jacket (a freaking JACKET! do you have any idea how hot it was?) in the color that is associated with Opposition Party Whose Members Get Arrested All The Time. My hostess was wearing the same color; it turns out that that day was the anniversary of the founding of the OPWMGAATT.
We got going towards the school, and I noticed that he'd taken off his jacket and laid it carefully on the floor of the car. Not long after we'd left the house, we encountered the only traffic jam I ever saw in this country: it seems that on this occasion, the government decided the usual roadblocks and unpaved street (on what seems to be a main road) near Nobel Laureate's house just weren't enough for their peace of mind. They set up additional roadblocks, closing off the street completely, and fortified their position with soldiers. Guys with really big guns. So everyone in the city had to take a detour.
We went by the headquarters of OPWMGAATT (which the driver had pointed out to me the previous day--I think he took "the long way" just so he could show me). On this day, it was surrounded by a small group of people: those brave enough to come out and publicly declare their support for the opposition. He turned to me and started on the longest speech I'd ever heard from him at one time (usually he talked to me in single, staccato sentences that took him a little time to think out in English--this must have taken him a while to translate).
I asked him if he'd ever heard her speak. You know, before they stopped letting her even stand outside her house and talk. He said yes, and the same look came over his face that Thai people get when they talk about the King. He repeated, "She has such power." Then he repeated his statement that he's not a member of the opposition.
I am not [OPWMGAATT]. For [Country Bordering Thailand], she is the only one. She has such power. She is the only one.
That night, I played a concert with my hostess. We were the entertainment at a reception for the OPWMGAATT, presented by the U.S. Embassy on the occasion of the anniversary of the movement's founding. As I think I mentioned before, the guests of honor were not in attendance because they'd been arrested.
My hostess had given the driver the night off--she thought she'd drive us there herself, both so that he could go home to his family, and so that he wouldn't have to be associated with such a politically charged event. Well, he didn't stand for that. He absolutely insisted on driving us there. After a conversation in This Country's Language, my hostess turned to me and shrugged. "He wants to go."
*Yeah, I know, this blog is on no one's radar and it probably doesn't matter if I shout out names, places, and dates, but...well, these people think freaking Yahoo! and hotmail are subversive...I think I'm going to keep being circumspect, if only to remind me (and my readers, if any) just how bizarre this place is.
Friday, October 06, 2006
bisy backson
This couple of weeks I'm working a lot, and then Husband and I are going on a trip to New Zealand (I'm so excited!!!), so I think there's going to be a little blog hiatus. I'll be back around Halloween.
from the comments thread
This is cut and pasted from my response to the comment on another post--once I got going I found I had a fair amount to say, so I thought I would bump it up here for the reading enjoyment of those who don't click on the comments.
Thanks. I've been turning this trip over in my mind, trying to decide what, if anything, more I want to say on this blog. I got some pretty good advice about what to say/what not to say (apparently if I want to get another visa in, which I do, I've got to avoid using certain googlable keywords...not that my blog exactly comes up first on any google searches, but you can't be too careful, I guess) from someone who lives there, but it's still difficult to know how much detail to go into. The government is trying to get tourists to visit this country, but both their own Nobel Laureate and Tony Blair have called for a tourism boycott. The people I met there, though, were so incredibly happy that I was there. Granted, I wasn't exactly the average tourist, but still, the people I met wanted to show me how things are. And I think that going there, and just seeing, can only be good. It's hard for a person who grew up in the U.S. even to imagine what this place is like. It's not that I think everything about the United States is wonderful--far from it. We've got our problems too, and all you have to do is watch the news to see some of them, but I really think that Americans (or maybe it's just me) tend to take things like the First Amendment for granted.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
it means "golden land"
Suvarnabhumi Airport, that is. Otherwise known as The New Airport. Otherwise known as It's How Far Away?
That means that the airport up north is now closed to commercial flights. That one is called Don Meuang. Otherwise known as The Old Airport. Otherwise known as Where The Heck Is Baggage Claim?
On my recent trip, I flew out of the old airport and into the new airport. It was the first day that the new airport was fully open, i.e. that it was being used exclusively. This after a few extremely confusing days in which both airports were semi-operational.
The new airport looks just like any other major international airport, which in my mind is a huge improvement over the old airport. There are signs. These signs are in English. There are now more than three desks at Immigration. Immigration, baggage claim, and Customs are all laid out in a straight line. OK, so you have to walk a gauntlet of about a half-mile of duty-free shops to get to Immigration, and there don't seem to be any bathrooms, but still, it's an improvement over Don Meuang.
I had an extremely easy time--my flight wasn't delayed, we didn't have to sit on the plane and wait for a gate, I didn't have any luggage to pick up, and I didn't have any trouble finding a taxi. Evidently I was lucky.
The newspaper has been carrying stories with headlines like "A Traveler's Woes." Apparently there have been some glitches--the system of gates isn't well-organized yet, and many flights are being boarded and...um...emptied (what's the word for that?) by bus. The baggage handling facilities are so inadequate that some of the soldiers (conveniently in town for the coup) have been assigned to carry baggage from the planes to baggage claim. Most ludicrous of all, the roads, the parking garage, the restaurants, and the bathrooms have been clogged with the ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE PER DAY who are coming up to the airport to sightsee.
That means that the airport up north is now closed to commercial flights. That one is called Don Meuang. Otherwise known as The Old Airport. Otherwise known as Where The Heck Is Baggage Claim?
On my recent trip, I flew out of the old airport and into the new airport. It was the first day that the new airport was fully open, i.e. that it was being used exclusively. This after a few extremely confusing days in which both airports were semi-operational.
The new airport looks just like any other major international airport, which in my mind is a huge improvement over the old airport. There are signs. These signs are in English. There are now more than three desks at Immigration. Immigration, baggage claim, and Customs are all laid out in a straight line. OK, so you have to walk a gauntlet of about a half-mile of duty-free shops to get to Immigration, and there don't seem to be any bathrooms, but still, it's an improvement over Don Meuang.
I had an extremely easy time--my flight wasn't delayed, we didn't have to sit on the plane and wait for a gate, I didn't have any luggage to pick up, and I didn't have any trouble finding a taxi. Evidently I was lucky.
The newspaper has been carrying stories with headlines like "A Traveler's Woes." Apparently there have been some glitches--the system of gates isn't well-organized yet, and many flights are being boarded and...um...emptied (what's the word for that?) by bus. The baggage handling facilities are so inadequate that some of the soldiers (conveniently in town for the coup) have been assigned to carry baggage from the planes to baggage claim. Most ludicrous of all, the roads, the parking garage, the restaurants, and the bathrooms have been clogged with the ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND PEOPLE PER DAY who are coming up to the airport to sightsee.
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