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China Tour Blog #4: Vanilla or Chocolate, which shall I choose?
YPO Tour Possibility in Action (Part 2)
7/6/2007 7:50 AMVanilla or Chocolate, which shall I choose?
I promised to write a sequel to the "blog" about the "breakthrough" in my conducting as a result of my fall. The details are quickly fading from memory, but let me try to jot down a few thoughts.
The day after my accident was the day of the 8 hour train trip to Shenyang.
Dr Lee insisted that I should go to the hospital to have my chest x-rayed since the pain was now excruciating. I was actually sad to miss the train trip - I am always so busy on tour that I welcome any opportunity for extended journeys when I can hang out and get to know the kids better. But it wasn't to be.
It was decided that Kim Thompson would stay back to keep an eye out for Jennine and Dr Lee would take me to the hospital. It turned out to be one of the most rewarding days of the tour. My many hours with Dr Lee were a complete delight. He is one of the warmest, wisest, most thoughtful people I have met. He patiently explained many aspects of Chinese politics and history, which I certainly would not have been able to glean with our hectic schedule. I was enchanted by everything he told me and expressed the wish that everyone on the tour could be exposed to his knowledge and insights.
The hospital visit was a real eye-opener with such a guide and companion. As luck would have it, the leader of the local orchestra in Tianjin was standing in the foyer of the hotel when we were preparing to leave to find a hospital. He had been at the concert the night before and said he had been bowled over by the level of playing. He immediately offered to drive us to the best hospital in town where one of the doctors was a relation of his wife's.
On the long drive across town, I was able to question him in detail about the professional musical scene in China. He was surprisingly frank and told me some things that I doubt I would have been able to find out any other way.
He said that he thought that there was no professional orchestra in China at this time that could match the level that YPO had demonstrated at the concert (!) He said the level of musical sophistication was simply not there yet. He also said that he was quite sure that our performance of Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel had been a premiere in Tianjin - 113 years after its composition!
He revealed many interesting things about concert life in China. Most pieces performed at orchestral concerts are no more than 6 or 7 minutes in length (no wonder the presenters of our concerts were so reluctant to accept OUR programs. But how wrong they were!). The model for their orchestra concerts the New Year's Eve concert from Vienna, with the Waltzes, Polkas and Marches. That kind of program, he said, is endlessly replicated throughout China. The orchestra in Tianjin rehearses every morning from 10 am to 12.30. There are four rehearsals for each concert. No Mahler Symphony has ever been performed in that city. He invited me to come back and conduct the orchestra (that was the fourth invitation I had had to return). When I asked him how does it work if a conductor feels there is need for extra rehearsals, he responded that there was absolutely no problem because the orchestra was actually hired for 6 hours a day! However, only twice in his memory had a conductor actually used extra rehearsal time.
There were many other such fascinating insights into life in an orchestra consisting of government employees, without any protection from a union. I may report more at another time. The thing that struck Dr Lee and me most was how open and frank he was about everything, especially the recognition that the orchestra movement in China was in its infancy.
The visit at the hospital was wonderful. Dr Lee was treated with inordinate respect and graciously invited to participate in the diagnostic process, even though his specialty in obstetrics/gynecology. He quickly picked up from his accent that the main doctor in charge of my case came from the same part of China from which Dr Lee's mother hailed. Needless to say there was much bantering and gurgling over that!
The wait was reasonable, though the hospital was quite busy. I was attended to by three different people. I got two sets of X-rays (the doctor determined there was no fracture, but he pointed out that he could see that I had Chronic Bronchitis - something my doctor in Boston had not noticed!). I was prescribed a pleasant smelling Chinese ointment to rub on and some patches. The bill for the entire visit was just under $30! I do not believe that I could have been more effectively treated at Mass General and I dread to think what the bill would have been for a foreigner visiting Boston without any insurance!
As we left, Dr Lee pointed to a notice hanging on the wall which read:
You may not request an abortion simply to ensure the sex of your child.
By this time in the trip (the fifth day), I was suffering serious deprivation from the lack of a proper cup of tea. So our friend the Concert Master said he would drive us to a place where they sold only tea. It was, in fact, a tea emporium - perhaps as many as nine different shops selling only tea and tea paraphernalia. We went to the first one and were greeted by the most charming, high energy sales lady who showered us with attention.
We were seated at a table, where for the next forty minutes her father, a somber but kindly man, took us through the most elaborate tea-tasting ceremony I had ever experienced. One tea after another was discussed, chosen, rinsed, sieved, poured over, re-washed and drunk, followed, of course, by further discussion, assessment, rinsing, re-working and final rejection. I think we must have tasted eleven different kinds of tea. I never could have believed that I would be able discern the differences between so many blends of what were essentially all Chinese Green Teas, but the tiny distinctions, like between styles of composition, gradually began to emerge.
However, since none of them bore any resemblance to what I call a real cup of "grown-up" English tea, none of this helped at all. The two patrons smiled sweetly when I tried to describe, through Dr Lee, what I was really looking for and politely assured me that there was no such thing "in all the tea in China". Dr Lee offered to buy some tea in order to make the whole elaborate experience worthwhile for the shopkeepers, but they wouldn't hear of it.
What they did get from the experience was a beautiful compliment from Dr Lee addressed to the young woman who was helping her father in the store. He said she had an extraordinary energy as a salesperson - that rare combination of enthusiasm and grace which can make shopping one of the great pleasures in life. I have a feeling that that young lady, who had told us that she harbored dreams of being in the travel industry, might have emerged from our encounter with a sudden widening of her professional horizons. They both seemed as enchanted by our encounter as we were.
When we emerged it was lunchtime, so our violinist friend drove us to a restaurant, known throughout China, where the white pastry things that we had each morning at breakfast originated. The difference between the taste of those things at this restaurant compared with what we were served each day at our hotels was equivalent to that between a Steinway Concert Grand and a Pleyel Electric Piano. It was one of the best meals I ever had, made the more enjoyable, of course, by further deep insights into Chinese life from my wonderful companion.
We came back to the hotel, rested - I worked for a couple of hours - and then we all went to the airport (once again driven in two cars by the concert master and a friend). While we were waiting for the plane, a complete stranger walked up to us and handed us a copy of the rave review that had appeared in the morning's paper about our concert the previous evening.
We flew to Shenyang and arrived at that lovely modern hotel attached to the concert hall at about the same time as the rest of YPO. Of course, if I hadn't had my accident, I would have spent the day with all of the kids on the train and another other set of wonderful experiences would have unfolded. Perhaps my presence might have discouraged the enthusiastic exchange of conversation and alcohol on the train and Kim's suitcase might not have ended up in Outer (or was it Inner) Mongolia! (That's another story for another blog!).
What did happen was wonderful, memorable, eye-opening, heart-warming. Wouldn't it be amazing if we could take a bird's eye view of our lives and manage to say, whilst lying in agony on the pavement after a fall from a bus: "I wonder what THIS experience will bring?". Of course I couldn't have known then that my conducting was about to transform, that I would find out all about about the workings of Chinese orchestras, have a hands-on experience of the Chinese medical system, learn about the rarified world of Chinese tea drinking, have a glorious meal in a unique restaurant and gain extraordinary insights into China's culture and politics, oh yes, and make a wonderful new friend for life. But it would be something if we could treat life simply as an unfolding of experiences, none of which are wasted. To realize, in other words, that the things that happen are neither good or bad in themselves, even the very painful ones. Every event, every conversation, every encounter can provide a gateway to Possibility. We always think that everything depends on making the right decision: which college, which girl (or boy) friend, which instrument to play, decisions, decisions, decisions. That is the mentality of a world where reality is fixed. In a world of Possibility the decision creates the reality. So there is no right or wrong decision. It's like ice-cream: Vanilla or Chocolate? Doesn't matter. Whatever we choose unfolds uniquely. How fascinating! Have a perfect life!
Best wishes
Ben
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