More creative writing, enjoy!!
It was midafternoon when we arrived. Just over the trees along the side of the gravel road, I could see a weathered edge of the Abbaye’s tiled roof and walls winking up at us in the summer glow. Lugging instrument cases, music folder boxes, and the conductor’s podium, we slowly made our way down a winding, dusty, and sweltering path, occasionally relieved by the cool shade of trees. As we trooped into the clearing at the base of the hill, my heart skipped a beat; there before us and in all of its quiet magnificence sat the Abbaye-de-Silvacane. It wasn’t the largest building I had seen in France, but it had a personality all its own – humble, poised, and dignified, and it almost seemed to be watching us like a protective yet stoic guardian. It was like meeting a hero I had only read about in books – a 16th century cathedral, sitting before me like a long-lost friend. Limitless history seemed to soar overwhelmingly like music notes from its dusky stone walls, slender windows and beautiful but quaint gardens. All I could do was stand and stare, agape in awe, until I was eventually interrupted by the sweaty and remarkably unamused equipment crew who were in the process of grumpily hauling double-basses down the slope. I shouldered my violin case and stumbled into the church.
The interior of the church was so incredible – the vaulted ceiling, supported by cool stone walls and elegant pillars, soared above us in its effortless expanse. Light filtered through the windows with a celestial aura. The center of the Abbaye was entirely filled metal chairs in preparation for the next two evenings’ performances, and pillows lined up on the stone half-walls for extra seating. We weaved a path through the church and climbed a short, steep flight of stairs to a small, brightly light room. I set my case and bag into an alcove in the wall next to my friend Katie’s, before hurrying back to help with the equipment. As soon as everything was inside and accounted for, we set up for dress rehearsal and got to work.
About midway through rehearsal, we discovered something perplexing – an echo. In all of our previous rehearsal locations, the acoustics had been just enough that we could hear one another, but not nearly to this extent. The longer we played, the more horrific we sounded, until we were eventually so discombobulated that our conductor, Herr Klaue, cut us off with a laugh.
“Disorienting, no?” he chuckled. “The echo in here lasts for 12 seconds, from the time it leaves your instruments to the time it finally stops. It shouldn’t be a problem for the audience, because all they’ll hear is beautiful music. For us, though, it will be a nightmare. Just remember – we’ve played this music so many times, you guys know what to expect, so just tough it out and I promise you all, we can get through this.”
We nodded and grimly got back to work. We managed to get through the pieces, but they just didn’t sound right. Our tiny audience, mostly composed of a camera crew and those who worked in the Abbaye’s tiny tourist shop, cheered us on and assured us that we sounded great. Eventually, Herr Klaue dismissed us and, after we put our instruments back upstairs, we filed outside to a line of sandwiches, fresh fruit, and juice, all prepared by a few wonderful ladies from our community. I grabbed a ham-and-brie sandwich and wandered into the nearby woods – not far, but just enough to have a bit of peace and quiet for the first time since leaving the States – and made camp on a smooth tree stump.
“EEE-HAAAAAAAAAAAWWWW!!!”
I froze mid-chomp, setting my sandwich cautiously back on my lap. I turned to see a strange onlooker – a donkey, peering curiously at me through a chain link fence about 10 yards away. I tiptoed closer and held up my hand to him; he nuzzled it gently and rubbed his nose against the fence; with a grin, I reached through and rubbed his ears. After a moment, I pulled my hand back and ran back to the gaggle of other students in search of my dear friend Noah. I eventually found him perched on a large rock with a few girls, all giggling as they tried to sort out which drink belonged to which person.
“Noah-Noah-Noah-Noah,” I chanted, tugging on his shirt sleeve impatiently.
“Hmm?” He turned to me, surprised.
“C’mon, c’mon, I’ve gotta show you something!!”
“Ooo, what is it?” He asked curiously, his eyes lighting up mischievously.
“It’s hard to explain, just c’mon!!”
He jumped up and together we skipped into the forest to my camp. The donkey was waiting for us, braying happily as we drew closer.
Noah squealed excitedly, flailing his arms with the wild abandon of a T-Rex.
“I KNOW, RIGHT?!” I flailed my arms as well. “He’s SUPER friendly, too, look!!”
I stuck my hand back through the fence and rubbed the donkey’s cheek; he closed his eyes contentedly, pushing his face closer to the fence. Noah nervously reached his hand through and ever-so gently stroked the donkey’s ear.
We stood there for a moment in amazed silence, interrupted only by the occasional ‘whoop’ from the crowd near the Abbaye and the flick of the donkey’s tail.
“This donkey’s, like, the most hella rad animal I’ve ever met,” Noah eventually announced, grinning from ear to ear.
I nodded solemly. “I’m obsessed with this little guy, he’s AWESOME!!”
“He’s gonna, like… save the world someday,” Noah joked.
“He’s gonna be like Lassie the dog, only “Assie,” I teased, ruffling the donkey’s mane.
“OH MY GOD, YES!!” Noah crowed, high-fiving me enthusiastically.
“It’s official, little guy – we shall call you Assius, or Assie for short,” I told Assie, gently rubbing the tip of his nose.
Assie paid us no mind, replying only by pushing his nose further into my hand, silently ordering me to keep petting him.
A shrill whistle from the whistle broke our moment; we exchanged a glance and sighed sadly.
“Well, see ya later, Assie,” I said despondently, giving him one last pat before reclaiming my hand. Noah did the same, and together we trudged back towards the others, turning just once to wave goodbye as Assie brayed from his fence.
Once back in the church, we grabbed our concert clothes and the guys were shooed away to the bathrooms to change, which was a considerable hike from the church. As soon as they were gone, we filed down to one of the rooms just outside the inner courtyard downstairs and changed into our concert uniforms, a white polo with Blue Lake’s International logo and just for the girls, the most ridiculous palazzo pants we have ever seen. When we were again assembled upstairs, we tuned our instruments and waited for our first European performance to begin. Herr Klaue had told us earlier that we were not to go downstairs until it was time for us to play, as it showed the professionalism and finesse of the International program, as well as customary European concert etiquette.
Eventually, Herr Klaue himself trundled up the stairs and separated us into our sections. One by one, they filed out and sat down, all the while avoiding creating any noise. The hall was lively with the clamor of a massive audience; all of the seats were filled, and people lined the sides of the church and were craning to catch the eyes of their American host children. My hands vibrated with nervousness and excitement as I eyed the crowd, searching for a dear friend who was attending the concert that very night.
My stand partner, Tyler, leaned closer to me. “Hey, want to do an experiment?”
I eyed him, barely smothering a wicked grin. “Oh, pray tell,” I whispered back.
“I want to see if I shush the others, how many of them will shut up.”
During the rehearsals the previous week and a half, we had be trained to stop everything we were doing if we heard either Herr Klaue or one of the counselors shushing us. None of the students, however, dared to try to shush their peers, so this was territory ripe for the taking.
I nodded, flashing him a thumbs up. He grinned back, and silently counted down from three.
“Shhhhhh,” we said simultaneously, before ducking behind our music stand.
The entire orchestra IMMEDIATELY quieted. The audience, sensing that we were about to begin, followed suit, and the cavernous hall was suddenly as silent as a graveyard. We had gotten away with it, as all of the counselors were looking around for our conductor, but at a price. Tyler held up his watch: we were exactly four minutes ahead of schedule. SHIT.
The awkward silence that ensued eventually became so painful that our beloved concertmistress, God bless her soul, calmly rose and turned to us to tune. As soon as we were finished, the crowd’s murmurs eventually resumed, and order was restored. Tyler and I nodded in newfound camaraderie – we NAILED it! Then, Herr Klaue entered and signaled for us to stand, and thus our performance began. The first night went fairly well, with only minor errors. After we had finished and sang “The Lord Bless You and Keep You” (a Blue Lake International tradition for the end of every performance), we bowed one last time and filed back up the stairs to the room. My friend Mélodie was waiting for me, and after scooping me up into an enthusiastic hug and kiss on the cheeks, whisked my luggage and I away to her mother’s car, and off we drove to her friend’s house to spend the night.
We returned to the Abbaye and, after sadly bidding Mélodie and her family farewell, I rejoined the others back in the case room, now full with luggage; we were leaving for Germany at midnight, so we had to be ready. The choir was joining us today, but thankfully we were able to put them and their belongings in the rooms downstairs. We held another dress rehearsal, which only went on to show that the echo was far from gone; this time, it was abetted by our proud choir who had been joined by a local professional choir (another Blue Lake tradition).
“Don’t forget, you guys and girls,” Herr Klaue warned us at one point, shaking his baton sternly. “We have to be OUT of here by eleven, no later, because we have to arrive in Wittstock, Germany, on time in order to stay on schedule.”
After we were dismissed for dinner and had grabbed our food, Noah and I ran into the woods and back to Assie.
Noah and Assius
After giving him a bit of cheese and a pat on the head, Noah and I settled down on the fallen tree and talked… we talked and talked until the sun was just beginning to set over the Abbaye. The shrill call of our counselor’s whistle summoned us back to the Abbaye, and we dejectedly bid Assius farewell one last time. We shuffled back up to the church, changed into concert uniform, and awaited the start of the performance. On our way down the stairs into the hall, all four soloists were waiting to high-five the orchestra members.
“You’ll do great!!” Zachary, the tenor soloist, cheered.
“You guys are AWESOME!!” Jared, our baritone soloist, added.
We settled down in our sections and calmly waiting for Herr Klaue to signal us to rise. Tyler and I didn’t attempt to shush the orchestra this time around, not only because we didn’t want to give our new favorite pastime away but also because the choir doesn’t shush for anyone except their director and sometimes Herr Klaue. Eventually, we were signaled, and the performance began.
Almost immediately, we began to fall apart: the choir, both Blue Lake and local, weren’t following Klaue consistently so eventually he had to start conducting by their speed, not his, in order for us to stay afloat. During the second movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, we became so discombobulated by the echo, the choir, and the indecipherable conducting that everyone in the orchestra randomly stopped playing at the exact same time, with the exception of our percussionist. Smoothly, though, we picked the piece back up and finished the performance without hitch.
As Herr Klaue, the director of the choir, and one of our counselors handed out gifts to the community, Tyler and I eyed our watches; it was 11:15, we were already late and we still had to pack everything up, get on the busses, and take attendance. As soon we were dismissed, we leaped into a packing frenzy. I was a member of the music library crew, and it was my responsibility to make sure all of the first violins’ music was accounted for and was not left at any rehearsal or performance avenue. As soon as my violin was put away and I passed it on to a friend to put in the trailer, I ran downstairs to grab the folders; no one was supposed to touch the folders besides the music crew after rehearsal, but already the folders were lying on the floor or in haphazard piles along the wall. I grabbed as many as I could find belonging to the first violins and counted them up; to my horror, I was missing one folder. I ran back up to the head of our crew, Abigail, and explained my problem. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only music crew lackey to return without folders – we were missing four in all, and no one knew who had taken them or where they were put. As Abigail and I tore through the Abbaye, we managed to find two of them, and a third lying precariously in one of the window ledges. By this point, I was near tears, but I refused to let Abigail, who was also a dear friend, see and be concerned.
“Alright, shit,” Abigail whispered, her eyes wide with panic. “Head up to the busses with the others, ‘kay? I’ll go back through the music cases once we’re out of here and find it, don’t worry!”
I nodded and ran off to where the others were gathered outside the buses. It was now midnight, and everyone was tired, cranky, and above all else, entirely stressed out. The choir was waiting on their bus, but we had to wait until the trailers at the end of our buses were packed before we loaded up. I felt tears pricking my eyes. “You’ve done it now, Sydney! You lost a music folder after our very first community, how the HELL could you have possibly done that?!”
Then, a shout from the buses interrupted my gloomy reverie.
“SYDNEY!! IS THERE A SYDNEY GRIFFIN OUT THERE?!”
“I’M HERE!!” I shouted back, moving into the light.
Abigail was standing behind one of the crates, waving a folder and practically crying with joy. “Sydney, we found it!! OH MY GOSH, WE FOUND IT!!”
“YES!!!” I whooped, jumping into the air with pure, undulated happiness.
We nodded companionably at one another – that was a traumatizing scenario for the both of us. Meanwhile, the tech crew had finished packing up the trailers, and finally, we filed onto the buses. As soon as we took attendance, we settled down for the night. When we woke back up, we would be in the midst of our next adventure: Germany.
Living With Relish 