Members of the Stockton Chorale are touring Ireland and Scotland for two weeks this summer, taking in the sights and, best of all, singing to new audiences. The following are updates from the road, written by director Ted Cetto.
DR. CETTO'S PERSONAL REFLECTION
(Not for the eye-rollers in the back
row, the grammar police, or those who detest my rambling missives.)
"Step we gaily on we go, heel to heel and toe to toe,
On and on and row by row, climbing Hollyrood Mountain."
Here's my song that I sing to the birds and bees as I hike up the Queens estate that sits behind her palace named Hollyrood in Edinburgh. It is nothing like Hollywood. She's in residence with 20,000 guest for tea today, oddly enough, she won't let me in. Must have found out I'm of Guidonian ancestry... Never have I seen so many Mercedes and women in hats/ men in kilts. Oh how I love a country where men can wear dresses! If you've seen The Queen with Dame Helen Mirren, this was the sanctuary that E II sequestered herself in after Diana's death. I cling ridiculously to the mount, though the cliffs are ten feet away, as I deplore heights. There is lightning and black ominous clouds are overhead. I dream the morbid headline: CHORAL CONDUCTOR BURNT TO A CRISP, UNFOUND, FRIENDS FLY HOME W/O HIM. But in Scotland the weather changes like a conductor's moods and here comes the sun again. I hear the band playing God Save the Queen below and am reminded of our own independence from this world of haves and have nots as it is July 4th.
My thoughts are pulled to a story of Trungpa Rinpoche (infamous Tibetan transplanter of Buddhism to the States in the '60s) when he first arrived in New York and looked out of the Empire State Building and wept. His students asked him, "Teacher, why do you cry?" And Chogyam said, "So many in this new land suffer and have not had the privilidge of hearing the dharma." I wonder if this is what the Queen feels when looking from this perch. "So many look to me, how can I help them all?" I wonder if this is what W thinks when atop the Washington Monument.
Let me close with another Zen story: When Dogen Zenji (1200-1251) left for Japan for China in search of the true teachings and returned w/o a sufficient answer, his followers asked him, "Master, What did you learn?" His cryptic reply, "The eyes are horizontal; the nose vertical." I love this story. People are people all over the world. Each wishing for happiness; each looking for love; each trying to do better for their children. No different than you or I. Even terrorists who try to stop the music of our dance have the same wishes. How lucky we are to have the privilege to travel to these foreign lands and share, what J. K. Rowling's Albus Dumbeldore called the greatest of all magics: music.
Day 9/10 - Edinburgh - The Final Entry
Before the news, just a little on our guides who are a very important part of this kind of group travel. We met Connor and Barbara upon arriving in Shannon Airport and we all quickly bonded in the Chorale familial way. You know us, musicmakers, hearts on sleeves and always ready for a hug, these two were a perfect match. Connor, a strawberry haired tenor, entertained us with ribald and sentimental songs on the bus with the sweetest tone and tons of Hiberian knowledge. And the care and patience through hospitals and illnesses was truly brilliant. Barbara, again with coloring of red, so patient with we harried Americans, was just as competent and beautiful. You know me, I was smitten from the first. In Scotland we changed guides, again supremely smooth in their bloody Scottish history (the Huns and the Visigoths have nothing on these barbarians), dressed in their tartan kilts! Not as helpful through our difficulties compared to our Irish guides, I chalk it up to cultural differences: the Irish smilingly interactive and full of joy; the Scotts a little more douer and tight lipped.
Ah, the Edinburgh Castle c. 1000. Home of Scottish kings, the crown jewels (oldest in Europe) and the Stone of Destiny used to coronate all the kings of England and Scotland since their inception. And, of course, the Great Hall, venue to The Stockton Chorale. Well, always a marketing plan in tow, we began outside in the piazza to wet the crowd's musical interest, and sure enough, it worked! We slew the big crowd with hits of their own (Mairi/Burns/Loch Lomond) and a few of ours (Colonial/Bile/Spirituals). Robin Jackson, UK representative for Kingsway International, said it was the best sculpted program he'd heard in ages. These people really know what they are doing in saving this spectacular concert for last. We all we're very pleased.
Let me finish this final column with thank yous. First from Curtis and myself, your gift of this trip will always reside in our hearts. For me, right up with my first kiss and the most special of life-affirming gigs. To Mrs. Pope who came along at the last minute to save my many clunky notes at the keyboard and is, at 85, an inspiration. Lastly, to Ed Almaas who was our tour coordinator working tirelessly over the past two years for all of us making our travels smooth. Thank you Ed. Home in a day, see you all soooooooooon!
Day 8/9 – Glasgow/Inverness
Hello, America!
First, we are all fine. The bombing on the news of Glasgow Airport was miles (5) away from our hotel.
When last I wrote, we were crossing the Irish Sea from Belfast, Northern
Ireland to Stranraer, Scotland and from there by bus to Glasgow. Many
of
us, with our lives nervously ruled by nausea during travel, were
pleasantly surprised upon spying the boat that was like a floating world
with a casino, food courts, places for children to stay, all atop
hundreds of cars on the lower decks. Needless to say, the crossing was
smooth except for a little patch when the walkers-by looked like dancing
drunkards. Of course, it is Ireland/Scotland, home of Guinness and
whiskey, so perhaps they were – pubbing being one of the national
pastimes.
Glasgow, Scotland's largest city, is rough and tumble, reminding Lois Erickson of London. We stayed overnight at Jury Inn, a swanky, contemporary spot where a placard said “£200 per night” ($400 American). It was possibly the nicest of our lodgings.
The city center was beautiful with a large pedestrian mall and FANCY shops, as in most cities, and wonderful restaurants for us to choose from. Home to Sir Walter Raleigh and Robert Burns, Glasgow is one of Scotland's economic engines. One of the strikingly odd experiences was when Curtis went out for a 6:00 a.m. Stroll and there was his next-door-hotel-room neighbor NAKED and locked out of his room. This brought a whole new definition to “tying one on” and is affectionately now known as “Scotland in Full Bloom.”
Traveling northeast, we're off to Inverness and for our Sunday evening concert. Surrounded by charmingly Presbyterians in an 18th century picturesque church with an original King James Bible (1610). We sang divinely once again, some of our sick singers overcoming their desperation.
Monday morning: we're off to Cawdor Castle, a still lived in home with magnificent tapestries, art and gardens. This castle was Shakespeare's inspiration for Macbeth The guide wanted us to know that Shakespeare's spin and his allegiance to please James I, reversed historical truth and had King Macbeth as the crazy and Dunstan the hero. In reality, Macbeth was the only king of Scotland not to war with England and Dunstan the evil one.
Tomorrow, we're off to the capitol, Edinburgh, but not until we stop at the Duke of Athol's distillery. This is karmic for me, as I was born in Athol, Massachusetts; born to drink great Scotch. Hope I don't wake up naked outside my neighbor's door; Mrs. Pope might be shocked!
Ted
Day 7/8 - The Highlands of Scotland
Well, I've been avoiding this column, but it must be said as it was a big part of our adventure. We've had more illness on this tour than all other tour put together. Hospital visits, the whole monty. Chalk it up to the rigors of travel, close plane /bus quarters, or our excellent diction sending the germs far and wide, but about 50% caught something and half or those were pretty sick. For the majority, this was mainly in Ireland. As many of you know, due to copious amounts of amber nectar, angel's milk or fairy water coursing through my veins, I've remained undaunted with all microbes passing over my lintels as uninhabitable.
Which bring me to our journey from Inverness, through the famous Highlands and distilleries (Glenfiddich/Glenlivet, etc.) to the wee town of Blair Athol. Growing up in Athol, MA, this is a sure sign that in a former life I was a Scotsman. The distillery was very cool showing us each phase of production and plying us with the prized possession at the end of he tour. Lunch in Perth, and it was off to Scone Castle (nothing to do with the pastry), site of the famed coronations of the Scottish kings and the Stone of Destiny. And now, off to Edinburgh.
Our hotel is situated in the midst of Old Town. I counted six museums and twenty churches in a short walks circumference. What a city! A mini-London (9,000,000) with a population of 1,000,000. The greast panoply of the BIG city: the rich, the poor, the modern, the gothic, a melange of life's amazingness. Never bombed during WW II by the Luftwafe, it remains, like Prague, gorgeous. At present, I'm outside our hotel in Hunter Square with, whom I call, the young hoodlums: teens too young to get into the bars, but old enough to be wild at night. I love watching them as they remind me of my own. It's 10:30 and the sky is still grey-blue as we're 600 miles longitudinally above the Canadian/U. S. border. Tomorrow we sing at Edinburgh Castle, a precious venue. Can't wait!
Day 6 – Dublin
Uh oh! The Choral is passing about a bug and many are
queasy and coughing, but you know our merry band; ashen gray and feeling
awful the show must go on. Off to St. Patrick's, the Episcopal Cathedral
founded in 900 AD, a stunning edifice of buttresses and Gothic wonder:
Ireland largest church. It is here that we receive our highest compliment
so far from Graham the Rector of Music: "Best choir I've heard here
in years." I'm
sure it was the first time and the last that "Bile the Cabbage" was
performed in this hallowed space. The crowd enjoyed it immensely.
At the moment I'm sitting next to my pal Oscar Wilde, patron saint of poof-dahs, at a public park with young couples walking by, their hair on fire with Irish coloring, dressed in fashionable black, holding hands. The famous statue is painted and he's mischieviously reclining, wearing a green smoking jacket and wild purple pants. As many of you know, this forward thinker was too much for the Irish who sent him to England, where he continued to cause trouble. If Oscar is the omega, then Yeats is the alpha, who's work is on exhibit at the National Library. O lordy, such beauty and universality of spirit, it nearly brought me to tears. Ireland: true home of bards.
Here's a quip or two:
I find it harder and harder everyday to live up to my blue china.
Nothing
looks so like innocence as indiscretion.
– Wilde
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping
Than a child can understand.
– Yeats
The evening holds a trip to a traditional pub with a show of step dancers accompanied by live music.
Day 5 – Waterford/Kilkenney/Dublin
Leaving the port town of Waterford,
we're off to Kilkenney and up to the medieval watch tower for a beautiful
view of the city or a stroll around the city castle. The town is a quaint
mix of tourista-land and antiquity (1000 AD). Then back on the bus, for
the two hour ride to Dublin: Ireland's capitol - possibly the most beautiful
European city I've been in for melding of old and new: the Georgian and
Victorian architecture wedded gracefully with the modern.
At Trinity College, the crown of Ireland's public (free) universities, we saw an exhibit of the Book of Kells, the countries oldest, illuminated extant manuscript (900 AD) of the four Gospels. Absolutely fantastic! Then a stroll about the libraries and grounds of the college. My thought, "I should have studied harder, and, perhaps, I too might have attended such a posh place."
Off to dinner and another inter-linguistic marriage (refering to our sad experience at Paddy Gonzales): Luigi Malones - the Italian kin to sweet Molly Malone: infamous fish monger by day and men monger by night of whom we sang a couple of years ago. Delectable was this meal in everyway. A beautiful seaside stroll with the sun just setting at 10:00 concluded the day. Tomorrow a concert at St. Patrick's Cathedral at 1:00. Can't wait!
"We are the music makers; we are the dreamers of dreams."
– Arthur
O'Shaughnessy
Day 4 – Blarney/Waterford
Well, we did it! Despite the hygenic horror
stories we've heard, and slightly worried that the gift-of-gab (sometimes
mislabeled as eloquence) would make us even more verbose – undaunted
we climbed the
eighty-five, claustrophobic steps to the top of Blarney Castle and
kissed the famous stone. Our reward: a panoramic view from the castle
turrets. I also used it as an excuse to kiss everyone as one can pass
on the gift to those who can't climb. It's the gift that keeps giving.
From there we spent time in Blarney Woolen Mills helping to increase
the Irish Gross National Product. The haves indulging in the finest
cashmere; the have-nots settling for throws and a lovely green Mr.
Roger's cardigan.
Back on the bus, we head to the southern most port of Waterford: Ireland's oldest city founded by the Vikings in 914 A.D. We had a personal touch during the drive when Greg, our brogued bus driver who has exponential blarney, explained The Troubles to us. He's from Cork, a major city along our journey, where Michael Collins hailed from, and vehement anti-English sentiment prevails.
Tomorrow we're on to the famed Waterford Crystal Factory to watch the artists at work and again assist the Irish economy. In the evening, we have our first concert in the chapel of the Institute of Science and Technology. I can't wait.
That's all for now ye lads and lassies!
McTed O'Cetto
June 26, 2007 – Killarney
Not usually excited by sheep and shepherds, one highlight of the Ring of
Kerry, southwest Ireland’s panoramic loop of cliffs, the Atlantic,
quaint villages, and inspiring scenery; I was blown away by the remarkable
border collies manipulating flock of sheep through patterns not unlike
the Hokey-Pokey. The shepherd, meanwhile, entertained us with jokes of
many colors.
The spectacular sights of the Ring of Kerry’s grand Atlantic coast tour about 100 miles in length, flew by as we stopped at many rustic towns for lunch, shopping and air (the gales hit 50mph on some of the overlooks). We’ve all been soaking up the Irish cool weather and the long days with the sun setting at 10:00 p.m. and rising at 4:00 a.m.
I’m looking forward to our first, real rehearsal (the bus is not my cup-o-tea) in our hotel’s meeting room. Dinner and Guiness at Danny Mann’s Pub with Gaelic entertainment to follow. Yahoooooooooo!
Ted
June 25, 2007 – Traveling
When traveling, no news is good news. The uneventful trip, mostly
on time, enchanged by flight attendants' speaking the King's English and
a plethora of fellow flyers with Babel-ian drawls, is exciting, if not
from the anticipation of this Irish/Scottish tour, because of the comraderie
of new and old friends. Undaunted by exhaustion, our spirits and high and
ready for the first rehearsal on the bus ride from Limerick to Killarney:
The first time our joiners from Washington State, Southern California and
North Carolina will sing our repertoire. In honor of our touch down in
Shannon, here's a Limerick from Shirley Price:
There was a young maid from old Natchez,
Whose clothes were in rags and in patches.
When asked why she tore all the clothes that she wore,
She said, "When ah itches, ah scratches."
Full o'blarney,
Ted