WSCM 08 Wrap Up

Oh wow, what a week it's been!

I've heard some absolutely amazing choirs, attended some fabulous workshops, and caught up with some old friends - it has been a brilliant time, really inspirational, and I've been so pleased that I got to be a part of it all.  That being said, I did also hear some choirs and attend some workshops that weren't all that... so here is my WSCM 08 wrap up:

Concerts:

My favourites were:  

Batida, who performed at the opening night gala with their funny skits about Hans Christian Andersen

Touche (jazz vocal acapella group)

Rajaton (popular and classical music acapella group) - their rendition of Abba's Fernando was simply brilliance.

Sunday 20th:

Workshops: 

1.  Keith Terry:  Body Music - this was so good I had to go and buy the DVD - thus beginning the punishing of my credit card...alas...  

2. Tone Bianca Dahl:  Communication - this was pretty good too although to be honest, I didn't learn anything new.  She was re-inforcing the use of common gestures to ensure the sound you want, rather than having to fully explain everything with words.

Concerts:  The University of Johannesburg choir were really good, but I didn't think much of Mikrokosmos.  And I skipped Key Cygnetures and Musica Intima because I wasn't really interested in a Kiwi group (and Art could care less about a Canadian one).  In the evening we saw the Svanholm Singers, who were an amazing male voice choir, and Ars Nova Copenhagen, who were also very good.

Monday 21st:

Workshops:

1.  Sigrid Johnson: Choral Blend.  This was sold out but I decided to go along anyway and see if I could get in, and I did - just!  I had to sit on a drum throne in the corner of the packed room!  This workshop again was nothing new for me - but it was really nice to have a refresher course on the different sounds you can get from your choir if you arrange the singers in a specific position.

2.  I skipped workshop 2 because nothing really interested me.

Concerts:  Art fell asleep in the Romanian Radio Children's and Youth Choir performance, and I fell asleep during the Anyang Civic Chorale Korean music presentation, but the highlights of the other concerts for me were definitely Rajaton, from Finland, and Voci Nobili from Norway.  Rajaton do a mix of jazz, pop, classical pieces - but the best one was their rendition of Abba's Fernando.

Tuesday 22nd:

Workshops:

1.  I went to the Eric Ortner masterclass for workshop 1.  In a way I wish I hadn't, I didn't learn anything new about conducting, that's for sure.  Basically he just had the workshop participants run through their pieces with Ars Nova, and then he would make musical adjustments - but give no suggestions on the conducting.  And he was quite awful to one boy, because he spent absolutely ages with another fellow who was doing some obscure thing that the choir couldn't actually sing, so they note bashed that a bit.  This left little or no time for the American fellow, who ran through his piece and then had Ortner tell him that he was a bit too young and needed to sing in more choirs first, gaining experience.  The poor fellow looked crushed - and he wasn't so bad, after all.  Then there was the other fellow who didn't even get to run his piece, I would feel seriously peeved if I was him!  I would've liked to have taken part in a masterclass but unfortunately I am now too old - TOO OLD!!!!  How?

2.  Vocal Rhythmic Music.  This workshop was really good, it was run by Touche, Vocaline and VoxNorth, which are all jazz or modern pop / rnb / hip hop acapella choirs.  I thought Touche's part was the best, they actually analysed the chords, whereas VoxNorth tended to show you how they "cheat" - using microphones and reverb to enhance the depth of the bass (even an octave doubler!).  But it was still a good workshop.

Concerts:

The lunchtime concerts, to be honest, were not all that today.  Coro Camerata Antiqua de Curitiba, Brazil, sang sharp the whole time, Calicantus from Switzerland I think were pretty good.  The second half of the lunchtime concerts featured an Icelandic group called Hamrahlídarkórinn, who were pretty good, and the Taipei Chamber Singers from Taiwan.  They had done the morning warmup, and put everyone to sleep with their attention to the pronunciation of some silly train song, but boy, that had been a good idea because everyone had a greater affiliation with that number when they performed it in the concert.  Plus the tenor doing the high "whoo" of the train woke me up, which was a good thing.  In the evening we basically caught the tail end of Musica Intima, which was good.  We then headed off for a late night concert of Rajaton, who seriously rocked.  I really liked them!

Wednesday 23rd:

This was Tivoli Day, so that meant that all day there were choirs performing in the Tivoli Gardens.  In the morning Art and I headed into Malmo, Sweden, on the train, so he could tick off another country from his list.  We made it to the Tivoli after lunch, heard some good choirs, but boy, the Winneba Youth Choir from Ghana were soooo disappointing.  This is because their conductor insisted on using a crappy keyboard (and its crappy jam track) to accompany the choir.  It was rubbish, and really spoiled the good work the kids were trying to do!

In the evening it was the Danish National Girls Choir, who were stunning, and the Danish National Vocal Ensemble, followed by VoxNorth and Vocal Line.  Very good evening! 

Thursday 24th:

Workshops:

1.  Sing n Move, Let's Groove:  this workshop was very good but the girl, Sanna Valvanne, from Finland - wow, she had definitely had WAY too many happy pills!  She was just WAY too cheerful for anyone's good!

2.  The African Tradition: The traditional music of Burundi:  oh boy, was this a waste of time.  I mean, the presenter was very sweet, very lovely, but knew nothing of Burundian music, or music in general - he was a literature professor.  He tried very hard, but seriously, I would've been better off straightening my hair.

Concerts: at lunch we saw the Adolf Fredriks Flickkör, from Sweden, who I really liked.  The kids were fab!  The second choir was the Schola Cantorum Coralina La Habana, Cuba, who we had seen at Tivoli Day - they were ok.  A little 'pitchy' as Sharon Osborne would say.  For the second concert, we skipped the Ghanaian group, as I just couldn't bear to hear another poor rendition of that dodgy keyboard, and then we heard Conspirare, from USA, who did this absolutely diabolical Jazz Mass - and the conductor was there and stood up for the clap and everything!  Now the choir were fab, but the Jazz Mass was just awful... fancy admitting to writing that!  In the evening we heard the Magnificat Children's Choir, from Hungary, who were fabulous.  Really, really good.  Loved it.  But hated the Cuban choir who sang after them, they were sooo off!

Friday 25th:

Workshops:

1.  Anton Armstrong: Interpreting the African American Spiritual with Integrity: now this was one of the best workshops of the whole conference!  I had heard Andre Thomas talk on this 12 years ago, and I was especially interested to hear Anton's take on the whole thing.  Just fab, it was really worth it.  Packed out, mind, but soooo worth it.

2.  Freddy Lafont: Rhythms of the Earth: Latin America:  this is the guy from Vocal Sampling.  He showed us how to do all the different percussion sounds from Latin music, using just your voice (oh and hands, for clave).  This was just wonderful.

Concerts:  This afternoon we heard a Canadian kids choir, Shallaway, who wrote their own opera.  It was ok. And this evening we gave Conspirare another go - and I'm sooo glad we did.  They were just gorgeous, beautiful harmonies, glorious tone, fabulous energy, just lovely.  Loved every second.

Saturday 26th:

Workshops:

1. Bob Chilcott: Finding performance energy through rhythm:  this workshop wasn't so bad, but it wasn't brilliant either.  It was just basically an opportunity to sing through Bob's music!

Concerts:  I can't really remember the lunchtime concerts, but the Indonesians were on again, and they were wonderful.  Sooo colourful, so exciting, so glorious.  And then in the evening, after Art had had to leave because he had to go to Frankfurt to get his flight to Cairo, and then I ran into Laurie, well, then, we went to the Britten War Requiem. Oh my goodness, this was just awesome - huge choral and orchestral forces at the front of the Cathedral, and then they had a boys choir, 2 soloists, a chamber orchestra and an organ up in the rafters!  Wonderful, wonderful way to end a totally fabulous symposium - roll on 2011, and the 9th World Choral Symposium in Puerto Madryn, Argentina!

Anyway, here are some pics:

Batida

The opening gala

Me and the Big Band (and the second dress!)

The Indonesian choir at Tivoli Day

It's A Small World After All!

Today I discovered just how small (and yet big) a world ours is.

Twelve years ago I attended the 4th World Symposium on Choral Music, in Sydney.  Their system was that for all the big concerts, you were allocated specific seat numbers - and so as a result, you always ended up next to the same people.  I thought they might've done that here, but that didn't.  Anyway, at that Symposium I was sat next to a lovely Canadian lady called Laurie.  We hit it off, and ended up at most of the voluntary concerts and workshops together.  At the end of the Symposium we traded email addresses, and then went our separate ways - me, to Brisbane (and then 2 years later to London), and Laurie, back to Canada.  And we managed to stay pretty well in touch by email for about 2-3 years, until one day, the computer I was using packed it up, and I lost everything - including my address book.  In those days I was using a computer-based mail programme, rather than an online one - so once the computer crashed, that was the end of it.  I lost touch with so many people that I had met on my travels who had become really good friends.  When I got a replacement computer, the email company I'd been using went belly up, and so I had to get a new address.

So anyway, back to the small world thing.  According to Choral Denmark, who organised the thing, there were between 3-4000 participants in WSCM 08, some 40 odd ensembles, and some 200 odd concerts.  So the chances of seeing anyone you knew was pretty slim.  Amazingly though, I ran into several people from Australia that I knew, including Paul Holley, who got me interested in choral conducting in the first place!  So that was really good.   I didn't manage to meet as many new friends this time as last time, because you weren't seeing the same people over and over, the thing was so huge.

Anyway, this afternoon Art had to leave the Symposium early because he couldn't get a flight out that would connect with his Texas flight if he stayed for the final concert this evening.  So this afternoon I attended the 2nd last concert on my own, and then tried to get into the masterclass presentation, but it was sold out.

As I turned away from the workshop ticket desk, a woman approached me with "You probably won't remember me..." but I did!  It was Laurie!

How cool is that?  Someone I haven't seen in 12 years, had lost touch with 10 years ago - and the sad thing is that she had been at the Symposium the whole time!  In fact, we worked out that she saw us on the first day, because she sat in the same row as us at the vocal warm up  - she had to scooch past - and she remembered Art.  And then we found out she had even been in some of the same workshops as me, but we just didn't see each other!

So even though it was almost the very end of the Symposium, it was so lucky that we managed to meet up again - we went and had dinner and then went to the final concert at the Cathedral - Britten's War Requiem.  The piece was absolutely awesome!

The next day Laurie's flight was mid afternoon, and mine in the evening, so we met up for brunch and had a good old natter - and most importantly, swopped emails and numbers again - so here's hoping we can stay in touch this time!

How small a world is it?

The Joys of Hostelling

Now I know that there are lots of advantages to staying in a hostel - well, actually, at the moment I can only think of one. The price. But recently, despite this dangly little carrot, I've begun to question what a 35+ something year old is doing in one.

The Sleep-In Hell, where we are currently staying, has been the starting point for this rumination. This is probably because it is the longest I've ever stayed in any one particular hostel (by the end it will have been 8 nights) and therefore I have had opportunity firsthand to experience over and over the disadvantages to the hostelling concept.

First of all, the dormitory. Now, in YHA hostels, or HI hostels, normally you get single sex dormitories. And normally I'm travelling with other girls, so that's not a problem. But in some privately owned places, like the Sleep-In Hell, the dormitories are mixed. And huge. We're fortunately in the small one (2 cubicles with 4 beds in each cubicle - but no door so you can hear everything they say in the next door cubicle), but tomorrow we have to move to the large one (20 beds, same layout with regards to the cubicles!). The disadvantages of mixed dorms are as follows:

1. Boys. They smell.

2. Boys. They snore very loudly.

3. Boy Australians. Especially early 20-something ones. They have no consideration for others.

This was highlighted all too clearly for me the night before last. You see, unfortunately on that night, three of the four beds in cubicle one were occupied by young Australian male 20-something year olds, so their sense of hygiene is, shall we say, not very well developed, and in our cubicle, there were 3 boys plus me. So the smell of boy was very potent and woofy. One poor bloke actually noticed it himself and thought it was his thongs, so he went and put them outside - but trust me, it wasn't just his thongs! Now add to this mix the fact that poor Art has a little bit of a sinus problem at the moment which causes him to snore a bit. That's ok, I have my ear plugs, and my Zen, so I can block it out. And actually, the other night it wasn't Art snoring at all, but some other bloke in the next cubicle. But last night, the stupid young Australians in cubicle one just could not cope. First of all, when they got back, very late, poor Art was already off with the fairies, and these blokes were just being soooo loud, carrying on about their travel plans to Berlin because Denmark is soooo expensive (I have news for you boys, Germany isn't much better). Then when they finally settled down, and everything quieted down, Art's sinus problem kicks in a little. I get out my earplugs and I'm happy - but the Aussie blokes aren't. Their solution? To reach across between the cubicles (there's a little gap where you can touch the bed next door just near the window) and VIOLENTLY shake the bed in an effort to wake Art up. Now let me just point out, Art is a very deep sleeper - so they didn't succeed - but I'm in the bottom bunk, and they WOKE ME UP!!!! The inconsiderate so and so's! And then I couldn't get back to sleep!

So to make up for it, the next morning, when we had to leave the hostel at 7.30am for the conference, oh boy did I let them have it. I rustled all the plastic bags in my bag, unzipped and rezipped my bag several times just for the fun of it, coughed loudly and short of running my hair dryer made sure they knew in no uncertain terms that I was up and at 'em, getting ready for the day... and as I was leaving the room, I could hear one of them tossing and turning in his bed... serves the blighters right!

Whack For The Daddy-O, There's Lager In My Bra!

For the uninitiated, the title is a reference to an Irish song called "Whiskey in the Jar"...

Today Art and I attended a glorious afternoon / evening of concerts at the Tivoli gardens as part of the Symposium. As we had a half day today, we decided to head off into Malmö, Sweden (as Art wanted to tick another country off his list) for lunch. In the afternoon we went to several concerts in the Tivoli gardens including a nice little group from Cuba and a wonderful group from Indonesia (but more on those later). It was a lovely atmosphere, the Tivoli gardens is kind of like an upmarket theme park (dubbed as an 'amusement park and pleasure gardens' by the Danes), with lovely fountains, scary rides, ice cream parlours, people selling 'cheap' tat (but its really expensive), restaurants, a concert hall, rotunda and outdoor performance spaces. We had a lovely afternoon. The evening concluded with 2 concerts in the Tivoli Concert Hall, the Danish Radio National Girls Choir and the Danish Radio Vocal Ensemble, which were both pretty good, and then the fabulous jazz and modern music acapella groups, Touche, VoxNorth and Vocal Line. Personally of all these Touche were my favourite.

Anyway, you get the picture. We'd had a lovely time attending all these concerts, our ears were full of beautiful music, and so we got on the bus back to the hostel in pretty good spirits.

Unfortunately on the bus was an extremely drunk man with an unopened bottle of lager. He heard us talking in English and then started to sing some English songs, before staggering up off his seat as if to get off the bus, which was pulling into a stop. Unfortunately his balance was not all that, and he leeringly wandered over to the door which was right next to where Art and I were sitting, Art being sat closest to the door. The man reached up over Art's head to steady himself on the rail, and as he did so, lurched into it and smashed his unopened bottle of lager against the rail above Art's head!

Poor Art sat there, drenched in beer, covered in glass, and unable to open his eyes for fear of glass going in them and also because they were full of alcohol. He was completely saturated! He had glass all over his hair (lucky for him its short and you could easily pull it out), all over his face and arms, and the beer had soaked into his shirt, name badge and the book he was carrying. It was awful! I copped a little bit too, but no where near as much as Art - except for one unfortunate thing. You see, I was wearing a top with a low neckline - and I could feel straightaway lager and glass going down into my bra! But as if you can fish around in there on a public bus to get it out!

The driver was extremely helpful, wouldn't move the bus on til he could see Art was ok, and then gave him an incident report slip so he could register it in case CCTV on the bus enabled a clear picture of the drunk (as if!). The other passengers were most helpful too, and extremely concerned - but I do think that part of it was that they didn't want us to go away with a poor impression of Danes, as one bloke kept pointing out "It was just an accident. He didn't mean to smash the bottle, he wanted to drink it later..."

But we were very lucky not to have been injured...

Clumsy in Copenhagen

Today I did a really dumb thing.

Just today? I hear you ask. Ok, I know I often do dumb things (ask my sisters about the time I jumped in the canal at South Bank on my way to dinner with Mum and Dad), but believe me, they're not always as spectacular as this.

See, the hostel where we are is a little way out of town, so we have to catch 2 buses (or 2 buses and a ferry) to get to the Symposium at the Opera House. As the conference starts everyday at 8.45am with a big sing, and as if you want to guarantee your place in a specific workshop you have to daily book your ticket for that workshop (so they're all taken very early in the day) we have to leave the hostel around 7.30am to have a hope. Now here's the thing: just who is awake at 7.30 in the morning when on holidays? Seriously?

Then there's something else I need to explain before I get to the heart of the story. In Copenhagen, there is a strong culture of cycling. As such, there are specific cycling lanes set up on every main road. The only thing is, they are in between the footpath and the main road, so if you want to get on the bus, you have to cross the cycling path. And the other problem is, the footpath is upraised from the road, and so is the cycling path - but it is lower than the footpath - so there are 3 levels. So, the bus pulls over at the stop (but can't drive up onto the cycle path), you step out and down on the cycle path, narrowly avoiding cyclists and so on (actually that's not true, they're pretty good at stopping for you at the bus stop), and then have to step up onto the bus - if the bus is pulled right over at the edge of the cycle path.

But this morning it wasn't. This morning the 5A pulled up a few inches away from the edge of the cycle path - close enough to look like it was right there in my peripheral vision, but far enough away for me to miss the edge of the bus, and totally fall on the ground in between the cycle path and the bus. I went over faster than a load of lemmings off the side of a cliff! Smack down on my ankle, and then straightover on my other leg - and then I couldn't get up! Art tried to pull me up but I couldn't put any weight on my ankle at all, and had to be half dragged onto the bus! Meanwhile the whole bus, plus the entire population of Copenhagen (well, those awake at that time of morning) were just gawking at me and trying to stifle a giggle or two...

Fortunately though, feeling came back fairly quickly to my ankle and I hadn't seriously hurt myself - no hospital visits required - so I was eventually able to walk around relatively easily at the conference later in the day... but oh boy do I have a real doozy of a bruise developing on my ankle... not to mention the one on my pride...!

Art and the Dreaded Orange Shirt

My mate Art is from Texas. Ordinarily that would not be a problem, however, as I have discovered recently, all Texans have an extra gene. This gene requires them to 'loud and proud' proclaim their inherent 'Texan-ness' to the entire world. This proclamation most often, for Art, takes the form of a bright, burnt orange t-shirt with "University of Texas" or other similar things Texan on it.

This really shouldn't be a problem, I mean hey, if you want to look like a walking Terry's chocolate orange, well hey, go right ahead (sorry Art, I know that sounds a bit racist - but then, everyone's a little bit racist!). But the problem is we are surrounded by lots of Americans who, the minute they see Art's shirt, make a beeline for him and then sidetrack him into 30 or so minutes of time-wasting conversation, when I really just want to go back to the hostel, or go get something to eat. For example, on Saturday, Art pulled two little old ladies sitting next to us in the restaurant, then there was the bloke who gave the Texan 'nod' to him in the street... then on Sunday, the workshop presenter Keith Terry came over and just had to shake Art's hand when he spotted his shirt in the room, then two blokes in the hotdog queue for lunch had to have a chat, then a Beverley Knight lookalike (she wishes!) cornered him in the foyer and tried to invite herself to dinner - and then at dinner yet another American woman muscled in on the conversation - all because of this flamin' shirt!

Oh well, I thought to myself, tomorrow's another day, he won't be wearing that shirt again... and then I found out he has 5 of them with him on this trip! Aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhhh, give me strength!

The Saga Of The Launch Dress

Saturday saw the first day of the World Choral Symposium, and the first day of many with regards to my serious wardrobe issues.

Allow me to explain. You see, unfortunately recently my clothes have suddenly shrunk. This is a serious problem because I don't have enough free cash to go around now buying new clothes, but because this is a World Symposium, I'm not really sure what the dress code is, but I suspect I'm going to need something other than jeans and a t-shirt to wear. If I can make anything else fit, that is.

The problem with this though is that given my propensity and intense dislike of all things related to the skill of packing, I found myself late on Thursday night hurriedly flinging things in my bag in the remote hope that some of it might be vaguely suitable. I remembered Jessie's advice, which was - "Pack it. All of it. That way if you need it, you'll have it." Oh yeah. But I only have a 20 kg limit with the airline!

So I thought that the best compromise would be to bring school clothes - the sort of things I would wear to school. I mean, they're not very dressy there at CEBS, so that should be ok - fitting in with the super casuals, and being remotely respectable for those in suits. And then I realised the one very big problem - the opening night. The opening night is on the schedule as a 'ball'. You know what that means - ball gowns. Do I even own one? Of course not! All I have is a little black number that looks a bit cocktailly, and the 'launch' dress (the dress I wore to our big concert celebrating Music as our specialism). Now the 'launch' dress is pretty spesh, so I thought perhaps that would do.

Of course, all day long on the Saturday I seriously stressed about it. I hate being female for that very reason - if you're a fella, you just put on shirt and tie and a nice pair of pants, and get away with anything. But as a woman? You can be seriously over or under dressed - and really commit those fashion faux pas. And the thing is, it says "ball" on the programme - surely that means ballgown? Plus, that dress cost me £100 and I've only managed to wear it once! I would really like to get more wear out of it...

Well after much deliberation and consternation, I finally came up with a totally foolproof plan - wear the 'launch' dress (but keep it seriously covered up with cardigan and raincoat - it was raining a little) and have the little black number stashed safely in the handbag in case the 'launch' dress is over the top! Perfect!

We arrive at the venue but unfortunately due to problems with the bus we were a little late - so we were just quickly ushered in to the opening concert - and my worst fears were confirmed, as seated around me were hundreds of people in jeans, casual slacks, simple skirts - and I looked full on like Cinderella off to her first ball... Suffice to say immediately the intermission came, and it was hurried apologies to Art as I sprinted off to the loo lest anyone see me in my Trinny and Susanna-less state, and laugh... and quickly jump into the little black number (which in my mind was looking a little over the top too)! Hysterics, hysterics!

I did some quick deep breathing, and then calmly sauntered out of the loos as if I had been wearing that dress all the time, and made my way casually over to where Art was waiting. On the way though, I passed several women who looked like "Barbie Goes To See The Queen", they were that done up. And then I checked around some more, and realised that I could've got away with the launch dress after all...

Quick! Dash back to the loos, get the 'launch' dress out - but alas, it is now too creased to wear after all... I now have no choice but to remain in the little black number...

It was very hard then to really enjoy the rest of the evening when all I could think about was the missed opportunity with the 'launch' dress, but I put my best foot forward, my chin up - and soldiered on. The concert was very good, I particularly liked the comedic group Bardot (I think that was their name) and also the jazz choir Touche, not to mention the big band afterwards...

But I still wish I'd stayed in that dress.

Copin' in Copenhagen

This week I am in Copenhagen for the 8th World Choral Symposium. My mate Art, who is teaching in Egypt, is coming too, so as I haven't seen him for about 3 years, it will be a nice opportunity to catch up. Anyway, I arrived late on Friday night after literally rushing from school (they were still in the middle of the farewell speeches but I had to go or I would miss my plane!). I am sooo excited, I have been sooo looking forward to this conference, and finally its here!

Anyway, it didn't exactly get off to a rosy start though. My flight with Sterling Airlines, a Scandinavian company I think, was uneventful but unfortunately a little delayed. So by the time I cleared customs, figured out how to get the train to Københavns Hovedbanegård (that's Copenhagen Central to me and you), and then worked out how to use the ticket vending machine and actually get the train - it was pretty late. The trains were very quick though, and very clean - so that was a pleasant surprise after the joys of London's trains.

The directions for the hostel, though, were not very good - just said to catch the bus 5A and get off at Ravnsborggade. Of course, no bus at anytime of the day is going to accept a 100 Kr note for a 20kr fare... so I had to try to get some change. Also, I didn't know if you can buy your ticket on the bus or if you have to buy it in advance at a kiosk like in some other countries (Czech Republic, Spain, most European countries) so I tried to ask someone but turns out he didn't know either. Eventually I managed to negotiate the bus system and arrived at Ravnsborggade at just after midnight. Now can I point out that this part of town is not the nicest part, and at midnight on a Friday night its full of drunks and party revellers. And here I am pulling along a wheelie duffel bag trying to find a hostel... I had to eventually call them, I couldn't find it - and once I got there, I wished I hadn't.

The hostel is the Sleep-In Green, and the sister hostel to Sleep-In Heaven. I think a more appropriate name for this hostel would be Sleep-In Hell. The first thing that greets you on your way to reception is a stairwell full of graffiti, which you pass for 2 flights, until you get to the reception, manned by a hippy dude with several piercings. There you receive your door code for your room, which changes every day (so you always have to go up there to get the new code) - and then you receive your bed in the dingiest, most minging 20 odd bed dorm. The dorm is divided into cubicles of 4 beds in each, but there are no doors, no curtains, and the exit lights and so on are on 24 hours a day so its never completely dark. Put it this way, unlike in other hostels, where you have to faff around with a torch if the others in your room are sleeping and you need stuff from you bag, here, you can just look in your bag by the light of the exit lights.

But the most galling thing, in this day and age, is that the cubicle we're in doesn't have a power socket. So no recharging of mobile phones, mp3 players, no drying of hair (and definitely no straightening!)... and I'm going on a professional conference for a week! How on earth am I to manage?

So I had a poor night's sleep, and then the next day asked for a cubicle with a power point, which fortunately they found.

I am coping, but only just... bring on the conference though!

When The Fat Lady Sings...

This week I did something that I've always wanted to do in London but just never got around to. And I did it twice!

I'm talking about going to the Opera. I absolutely love opera, so when I first arrived in London, I went to see La Boheme at the London Colisseum, and I was soooo bitterly disappointed! This is because the performance was conducted by the English National Opera, and their thing is to sing the opera in English, no matter what. This is completely stupid. If an opera is written in a specific language, it should be sung in that language. Plus, English is the worst possible language for opera - with all that warbling, you have a snowflakes chance in hell of figuring out what they're harping on about. Suffice to say I was not impressed.

But I don't think I can blame that poor experience on my laziness in getting to see the Royal Opera at the Royal Opera House. I think its kind of like being a tourist in your own city - you never do it. It's there, I can go whenever I want, so I don't go. So this week I decided finally to take the plunge and NIKE! Just do it...

Now the first thing about the Royal Opera is that the tickets range from the extremely reasonable to the extremely absurd. For example, for The Rake's Progress, which is the opera we saw, the price range was from £6 to £556 per ticket! As it was we ended up in the amphitheatre for £43, the cheapest tickets still available. But I have to say, I don't care that it cost £43, I don't even care that it was Stravinsky and so not the opera I would've really wanted to see - it was just amazing! What an awesome experience! To quote Melissa, when we went to see Turandot at the Sydney Opera House for her 21st birthday - "I don't know if I can go back to being a pleb after that!"

The Opera House is just enormous. We thought that actually we had really good seats, because when you looked out at the stage, it looked really close to you - that's because you're used to other theatres where the stage is actually smaller - but then you're sitting closer, right, as the theatre is smaller - so all things being relative this stage looked enormous and we thought we were right there - til they opened up the curtain and the people literally looked really tiny! I mean, you could see everything alright, but no chance at seeing facial expressions or anything. Fortunately I'd brought my binoculars with me so we got to see quite a lot.

It was just a beautiful experience and one I will not forget ever. I have to say that although it was Stravinsky, and there is no way I could ever remember any of the tunes (to be honest there weren't any) - I just loved every minute of it. And even though the opera was written in English, I was very glad they still had the surtitles, because opera singers being the warblers they are, you just wouldn't have understood it any other way.

So that was a lovely experience. Then, two days later, they were showing live broadcasts from the Opera House on big screens set up by BP all over the country, one of which was in Trafalgar Square. So, seeing as the opera was Le Nozze Di Figaro, and seeing as I really like that opera and if there had've been tickets, would've seen that instead of The Rake's Progress, I decided to go. I brought along a little picnic of sushi and headed off for Trafalgar Square. Unfortunately, by the time I got there it was absolutely packed! This meant that I had to position myself off towards the side, in front of one of the fountains, but I luckily had a pretty good view. Well, at least I did until literally dozens of people kept walking past, staring at the screen as if to say 'What on earth is this?' and then stopping directly in front of me. I got so sick of it I actually said something - and then they were most apologetic - but what is it about people that they get so pre-occupied with something that their peripheral vision doesn't allow them to take in the surroundings and therefore realise that they are blocking someone? So bizzare...

I managed to stay for the first two acts but got so cold sitting there on the concrete that I had to leave at the interval. But what an awesome experience....

Mamma Mia - Here We Go Again!

Today I ventured back to the lovely (alas, not!) Croydon My Vue cinemas on Purley Way with my friends Laura and Sara to see Mamma Mia.

I have to say, I thought the film was just stunning.  I saw the musical a few years ago with my sister Melissa, when she was visiting London with my at the time 9 month old nephew Harry (seeing as he is now 7... that gives you an idea of how long ago that was...).  We had easily the best night of our lives (well, maybe Turandot at the Sydney Opera House for Mel's 21st might've been marginally better...), left the theatre singing all the songs... it was awesome.  And so I was anxious that the movie live up to that fine standard - and I was not disappointed.

I was however disappointed that the lovely (alas, not!) Croydon My Vue cinemas on Purley Way would sell tickets to clearly under 8 year olds, clearly unaccompanied by parents, to a film which is clearly a musical based on songs from the 70s / 80s, when the so called under 8 year olds weren't even a hint of a twinkle in their parents' eyes...  Who thinks an 8 year old would enjoy a bunch of ABBA songs?  By the 5th or 6th song the kids were clearly restless, and started talking through EVERYTHING and running up and down the aisle...not to mention at the end, during the credits (when Meryl and the girls are singing Dancing Queen), one of the boys grabbed one of the girls by the arm and proceeded to practically rip it out of its socket, causing her to scream piercingly loudly - with no challenge by anyone in the audience...The reason for that though is obvious.  What are we up to now, some 20 deaths in London due to gun and knife crime?  There were 4 more in England today alone...

It begs the question then, will I ever go to a cinema in England where the movie is not spoiled by under-age troublemakers...?  I doubt it...

Although I have actually experienced a troublemaker child-free cinematic English experience, and only recently too.  I went to see The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian, at the Empire Theatre in Leicester Square.  The cinema there is absolutely humungous, and simply gorgeous - and the sound is not too loud and you don't get blocked by some dipstick sitting right in front of you.  Plenty of leg room too...  and no troublemaker children.  The only reason I can think of though for this is simply - the price.  At Croydon you'll pay £7.50 as an adult to see a film, £5.25 for kids.  At any of the Leicester Square cinemas, you'll pay at least £13.50 as an adult, and I don't know what as a kid, but that would seem to me to be a huge deterrent for delinquent youths.

Maybe I'll just have to stick with Leicester Square for all my cinematic experiences...

On another note, I will say that I stayed for the duration of the trailers, and therefore witnessed an example of Health and Safety gone mad.  There was a disclaimer at the end about the dangers of smoking - harping on about the smoking depicted in the film as being just for artistic purposes, smoking damages your health, yada yada.  Has the whole world gone mad, that we now need this sort of Nanny State message at the end of our films?  Oy ve...

Meanwhile, enjoy the Mamma Mia and Prince Caspian trailers...