Debrecen (not kidding this time)

Skip to the end of this for the sparknotes version. Pause briefly for pictures. Sorry they don't have captions.

I spent a good amount of time on the train to Debrecen wondering if I would do well in the competition. This is typical for most performers, I know, and nothing unusual for me. I find that how prepared I feel depends most on how I play in the days immediately preceding. For my recital, each day for a week before was a self-performance and analysis. I used mock audiences, set the lighting, even rigged my cell phone to go off part-way through pieces. That all led me to feel very confident for the real mccoy. This time I've felt rushed the whole way through. The days beforehand were played with a frantic element, which took away from my concentration. There were also days where I played beautifully, however. When this happens, the notes and phrases come on their own, and it all feels as natural as breathing. I'm trying to figure out why things go well and things don't go well. When it comes down to it, the simplest method is just to prepare your best and get a good night's sleep.

Sorry to all the people who just wondered "why did he write that?". Your time was wasted reading. Really, skip to the end.

[on the train to Debrecen] It's a beautiful day. The bleak Hungarian winter has been lifted, and the sun suddenly shows up every day. The train I'm riding in is old, with box compartments on one side and a hallway on the other. All the windows in the hallway are open and air is rushing through. Debrecen lies across the great plain, which stretches across most of Magyarország (the Hungarian word for Hungary). Riding across it, I see barren fields and ordered rows of trees. The towns along the way all have multicolored houses, usually with reddish roofs and small shacks stuck on at random places. Backyards consist of small trees, vines, and vegetable gardens, and often a laundry hanger, too. Shirtless men walk around, examining the spring soil and perhaps planning the season. I imagine walking through this part of the country. Living in the city has made my body feel weak - an afternoon in these fields would parch me.

"Ok, I'm tired of fields now. Bring the trees and mountains of my home!" And with that sentence, I fell asleep in my compartment for the rest of the trip, with the landscape passing by. As nice as this trip sounds, the day ended in disaster. I was woken up in Debrecen by the two other girls in the compartment. They told me to get off unless I wanted to go back to Budapest. I sleepily grabbed my trombone and rucksack and followed them off. They were both students of the Debreceni Egyetem, so I latched myself to them until we got to the school. They also both spoke English, and we chit-chatted until I finally awoke and realized... oh yes. I left my music on the train.

"Kibaszott szar, bazd meg a kurva anyad, szarjal sünt!!" I actually said that in fluent Hungarian, and was unfortunately looking right at my companions at this Eureka. Their faces drained of blood upon watching my sudden transformation into a raging, foul-mouthed gypsie. I hastily apologized and explained my transgretion. I left their company and quickly dropped my things in my room, and took the tram back to the train station. No dice, though. Another folder lost.

I will remind you of a previous entry where I described how tragically forgetful I can be. I won't spend the same time explaining how losing my music before a competition made me feel. Also in that black folder was a Gabrieli piece I am rehearsing with a large group. I think it's an original. Our next rehearsal will happen while Jack and I are in Vienna... I forgot to tell Guszti that. Oops.

A number of good things did happen that night. I did count them, but will call them 'mercies' instead of 'blessings'. At the time all the things going wrong were confronting me, and their combined force was overwhelming. I also needed to poop real bad, but couldn't find a bathroom with T.P.

At one point in the evening I was sitting alone in the lobby, locked out of both a concert and my room. I was contemplating all things dark, including my bursting bowels, when a very empathic man sat down next to me. He turned out to be the tuba teacher at Debreceni Egyetem, as well as an ex-policeman. We talked for a few minutes (in English and Hungarian) about teaching, gypsies, Hungary, America... but mostly just sat in silence. He must have sensed I was struggling with things then. I would like to dedicate my following success in the competition to this man. His temporary barátság really comforted me.

I roomed that night with Adam, another Zeneakademia trombonist whom I rarely see. This is the guy who before has abruptly terminated conversations with "BYE". This time, however, he was very friendly, and we hung out a lot over the two days of the competition. We're riding the train to Budapest together now. He is coming to Bard College soon, too! Apparently Bard also has a good Hungarian connection. I met a trombonist named Janós today who studies there! He knows Mary Weatherbee! Egy kis föld, ugye?

The trombone part of the competition spanned the mornings and afternoons of the 6th and 7th, with a concert after each. I was placed 3rd in the order, right after Adam, in a total of about 15 trombonists. The morning of the 1st round I woke at 7 for a good warm-up beforehand. Also made sure to get lots of sleep. ---- ok, I'm sticking in an edit here because I leave for Prague in 4 hours and I need sleep. The important stuff from this competition is that I played my very best, in some places even beautifully, I made some friends, walked around Debrecen, and got an honorary award at the end. I like to think of it as my "furthest distance traveled to compete" award. Now don't you wish you'd skipped right to the last paragraph?