I was vaguely playing in my mind with starting this post along the lines of "Last week I found myself in Spain..." (I write pretty much everything mentally first, and only when it's polished and shiny do I actually head for the computer.  This can lead to problems when I perfect an email, for example, then forget to actually send it.)  Firstly, though, it sounded a bit disingenuous.  I mean, I admit to travelling with the absolute minimum of planning and organisation - in this case, I don't actually speak Spanish, nor did I know exactly where the airport was, nor the ins and outs of getting from thence to Toledo, but I had actually booked the flights a few weeks beforehand and had a rough idea of where I should be heading, so I can't really claim to have "found" myself there, as it were.  The second thing was, I got to thinking about the phrase "I found myself..." and realised (after a couple of days there) that I had actually rediscovered a part of myself that has somehow got lost here in Germany.  I have no idea what it was - the light? - but the urge to paint was incredibly strong, indeed almost overpowering.  I realised only then that my paints had been gathering dust ever since I came to Germany.  Strange.  I'm not a particularly good painter, I simply like the process, and find it really helps when appreciating great art (shout out to El Greco's hand of Christ, as seen in the eponymous museum in Toledo, top left...).  I have tended to photograph rather than paint whilst I've been over here.  Must have simply been a different energy, a different vibe, as it were;  I returned on fire with artistic inspiration (I also fitted in a visit to the Prado whilst I was in Madrid for the weekend - what marvels!),  but strangely, whilst I have managed to prep a couple of canvases and even do a few preliminary sketches, the urgency, the necessity even, has evaporated.  Hmmm.

At least I have more to concentrate on than simply the audition.  I know singers for whom the audition is the be-all and end-all; I honestly can't do that.  Yes, if concentration is necessary, I concentrate.  But if there's the slightest chance to investigate the marvellous places I find myself when auditioning, I certainly take it.  I adored Toledo (I was there chasing down a Spanish touring company.  Totally normal to be squished between two sopranos in audition, therefore simply wandering onto stage, grinning out into the auditorium to an conductor whom I hadn't actually met, singing for, oh, three, four minutes, then sauntering off . . .  had I not a train to catch in order to paint Madrid red with a friend whom I'd previously only known online, it might well have seemed a long way to come for such a short audition opportunity.)

Should anyone be contemplating a visit to Toledo, I can thoroughly recommend my little hotel, La Posada de Manolo (website here).  Probably not for those who absolutely require trouser presses and international cable channels - I spend a lot of time trying to avoid such things when choosing hotels - but central, charming, quiet, clean, inexpensive.  Let me see if I can insert a video taken from the breakfast room in the morning, looking over the city.  It had been wonderfully quiet until I turned the camera on - cue delivery lorry below and random helicopter above!!  Not to mention, I left my bag there whilst spending the day trotting around the place, returning shortly before my audition to grab my stuff.  The lady on reception grinned whilst handing back my bag and coat, and presented me with an envelope.  I explained (well hopefully, as I said, my Spanish is not wonderful) that I'd already paid, and had simply left my excess stuff.  She said this was a present from the staff, because they loved my singing!  (All I'd done was test the voice out in the shower after breakfast.  I'd been rather ill due to a spot of nasty gastric flu, and hadn't sung for a week...).  They had presented me with a lovely necklace, engraved with a bird, in typical Toledan style.  Now if that isn't a good omen...

We'll call this one "Three Banana", shall we?  

I was with a friend who was visiting Mainz to experience the madness of our Fassenacht (carnival).  We'd got a little stuck earlier, having thought we'd just drop her luggage at the station and move on to a planned meeting with friends, and got into interesting logistical difficulties involving curtailed bus routes, multiple parade crossings and lack of any blasted left-luggage capacity actually left at the station.  Fortunately I am in possession of a key to a friend's flat not far from the station, so we went and deposited the baggage there, and then set off for the intended meeting-point.

It wasn't quite that simple!  Because of the delay, we found we couldn't cross several of the streets in town.  Tried, tried, tried, tried again; and eventually thought, oh well, it's a decent day (first of spring, methinks), we'll just circumvent the city via the Rhine, and rejoin my party from the other side.  We had sensible footwear on, being singers. 

Two hours, just about, it took us.  En route, my friend was inspired to take a slew of photos (she is also a keen photographer).  This was just after we'd finally indulged in a refreshing (translation:  much needed!) beer.  In the interests of safety, I took her beer in my unoccupied hand.

Haha, she thought, a mezzo with a beer in either hand - photo opportunity!  She duly snapped away.  At which point there appeared a banana demanding to be included in the photo.  Um, OK.  One banana.  Then another leaped into shot.  Two banana.  And at last, laughing happily, a third.  Three banana...

Absolutely glorious for the spirit!  I mean, who wouldn't want to be photographed with three happy unknown bananas?  It really exemplifies the carnival spirit for me, though.  Stay positive - who knows what's going to turn up in the near future (I am hoping that the portents are less than literal, mind, as bananas tend on the whole not to advance one's career as an opera singer...)?

Long live the carnival spirit!!

Spring is here.  There is a definite headiness in the damp green air, and unexpected small carpets of flowers keep bursting out around me as I cycle through the city - here bright blue speedwell, there small, intensely yellow crocuses - wonderful!  However, as with all seasonal changes, it is a perilous time for singers.  Half the theatre seems to have been ill with one thing or another over the last couple of weeks.  Occasionally this leads to glorious opportunities - I simply couldn't resist sneaking into the back of the auditorium for the beginning of a performance last week, half made-up and unnoticed, to catch our tiny but ferociously competent assistant director playing a police officer, instead of the normal six-foot-something bass (she then slipped into a sexy secretary's dress to execute pretty damn complicated dance steps because the mezzo singing that part was also ill); however most of the time it simply means frustrating lacunae in rehearsals and stress due to unfamiliarity in performances.

I reckon I've got away with it lightly so far (she said, fingers crossed).  I have had a cold for the last few days (I *knew* there had to be an explanation for feeling so other-worldly and forgetful last week!), but am grateful that my last performance and the one coming up tonight are in my capacity as an actress rather than a singer - you can get away with a heck of a lot, vocally, if you're just speaking.  Especially if you're miked up and can ask the nice sound guys to pump up the volume a bit as you've unaccountably lost the entire top half of your voice... 

And when you're even the slightest bit ill, of course, there's the question of comfort food.  My first choice would always be Heinz Tomato Soup with thickly-buttered white bread... and I just can't get those over here; the alternatives are not quite right (and who would have thought that you can't get Heinz soup in Germany??). One small sad niggling downside to the ongoing adventure of being an expat.

Still, fortified with my witch's brew of a cold-killing soup (involves more garlic than you'd think possible, chicken bones, ginger and chili), and half-drowned in herbal teas and freshly-squeezed blood-orange juice, onwards and upwards!

Pride goeth before a...

yes, I'm pretty certain I mentioned the ability to fall convincingly before. However I thought it would be old news by now, in the last throes of rehearsal and on a stage currently awash with water, blood and grapes. Seems not. While I naturally welcome any praise, it would be nice if the backstage talk was slightly more weighted in favour of my vocal performance, and less in terms of how "quite simply awesome was my fall and how did I do it?" (obviously I paraphrase slightly from the German). Oh well. We're all good at something. Now to work it into all my future roles...

And I should at least sleep well tonight. I've been refraining from too much alcohol in the middle of these rather demanding rehearsals, and piously declined an invitation to a drink with friends after tonight's final Hauptprobe. I cycled home in a self-satisfied haze, only to discover my lovely neighbours gardening on their balcony in the pitch black. A tentative greeting was met with an enthusiastic and unturndowneable invitation to come and see their "garden park" (window boxes on the balcony; red, white, red, herb garden ("lavender, rosemary, sage; sage, rosemary, lavender!") then red, white, red again). Although I am taking the colours on trust as when I got whisked in and presented with what I was assured was a clean chair (and what I equally assured them didn't matter, as most of my clothes were tonight black, and the remaining bits were pretty well covered in blood and whatnot from the stage, it made no difference) and a plastic glass of very nice bubbly (they were very sweetly mortified to have no champagne glasses in their office), it was velvety dark and warm in a summer-evening way; such a pleasure! It's so easy to stereotype nationalities; and an utter pleasure to note that no-one seems to have told this wonderful couple that they ought to be "German" about things. They are enthusiastic, volatile, passionate, tactile, creative... I'm so glad I had the good fortune to stumble across them (trans: I sang so loudly in the flat, they came to see who was making the noise). There's really nothing like a totally surreal evening of nice bubbly in the dark, with conversation trying desperately to explain, in a language that seems further and further from possibility the later it gets, the plot of Salome to evangelical Christians unused to "modern" opera... I love this life!

Fresh beginnings

Goodness me, what a cliché... spring really is in the air today, and with the surprising warmth comes a renewed sense of hope and expectation - combined with the formal start of rehearsals for the Strauss, it's the pathetic fallacy in action - life imitating art yet again!

At the Konzeptionsgespräch (initial meeting to explain the concept) I met new colleagues for the first time, listened intently to the director's explanation of his interpretation of the piece (I'm proud to say I understood pretty much all of it, although my brain got a little mushy towards the end and I probably lost a few threads), and saw the set models and costume drawings. Pure vanity, I'm the first to admit, but I can't help holding my breath as the latter are fanned out and shown for the first time - never mind all the deep psychological stuff, do I get a fabulous dress?? Luckily I wasn't disappointed today. The costumes are unfussy and fairly modern, and I loved the shape of my dress and particularly the strong colour, which will help my portrayal of this particular character. Some great ideas, loved the look of the set, and am very much looking forward to working with this director. Hooray!

Wandering back through town, my eye was irresistibly caught by a display of brightly-coloured primulas. Now, I am a little worried about succumbing to the seasonal nature of German decoration; my cynical British nature does its best to resist the tide, but in this case the combination of a little sunshine amidst the rain, jubilant birdsong and irrepressible optimism from the Konzeptionsgespräch meant that I was helpless in the face of the avalanche of spring flowers. I felt compelled to buy a bagful of primulas to plant between the herbs on the balcony; cheerful narcissi in a yellow pot already wave by the side of my monitor; and I even got suckered into a tray of sprouting tulip bulbs, despite having planted my own. Mind you, the latter were mainly because the warning label made me laugh: For planting ONLY!!, it said. Strictly NOT FOR CONSUMPTION!!! What?? thought I, before realising that in a language which doesn't differentiate between bulbs and onions, you probably can't be too careful!