Today was our first full day in Erbil, the capital of Kurdistan in Iraq. It's been a relatively easy day. We were supposed to check out teaching facilities this morning, but a misplaced key meant that we couldn't get into our offices so the trip was off. We took advantage of the mishap to take a day off and do a little sightseeing (otherwise, in case you haven't noticed, this job has NO days off).
I thought Suleimany was pretty hot and pretty dusty. However, Erbil outdoes it on both fronts. Temperatures easily top 115 every day and the air is perpetually hazy and the dust coats everything.
Erbil is substantially larger than Suleimany and feels more like a city, both in terms of its density and also the pace that people seem to move at. We all immediately noticed how much less friendly and open the people seem here than in Sule; definitely more of a big city vibe. I'm sure we'll discover their charms as well.
The whole city, as I noticed from the airplane landing here, is laid out in concentric circles around the ancient citadel. The citadel is a massive edifice; something like a cross between a moutain, fortress, and apartment building. I only walked around the market at its base, so I wasn't able to go up to the top, but it appears there's a whole small town up there, although all I could see were the walls and balconies of some of the outer apartments.
The hotel we are staying in is just a 15 minute walk from the center of town (assuming you'd want to walk in the heat). Marc, James and I decided to hit the bazaar and see what was going on there. When we left the hotel, we told one of the friendly bellboys where we were going and he became genuinely worried: "be careful there! You are foreigners!" Be careful of what? "Everything!" We proceeded with caution, but after about twenty minutes there he actually tracked us down and made himself our guide. It was a touching gesture, especially since it was clear that he didn't expect us to pay him-- he just wanted to keep an eye on us.
The market was as you might expect: a warren of narrow allies covered by corrugated tin. A lot of dreck but some really spectacular jewelry here and there and nice carpets and cloth work. I'm thinking of picking up some smaller throw rugs and maybe some of the Kurdish "rosaries"-- beaded necklaces which seem to be used for prayer just like their Catholic equivalents. In one antique shop, while Marc and James were haggling over some piece of jewelry, I spied, deep in a dusty and disorganized case, a miniature Jewish menorah. It looked kind of beat up and I thought I might be able to get it for a low price as an interesting memento. But when I pointed it out to the shopkeeper he stopped haggling, got serious, and said, "not for sale". When I pressed him, he said asking price was US$700. The thing was probably two inches high; I'd love to know the story of how it got there and why he was unwilling to sell it.
Being Jewish is an interesting issue here. John actually asked me not to tell the Kurds that I was Jewish, advice that eventually became difficult to follow. One of the translators for the organization is one-quarter Jewish and he begged me to keep it quiet. On the other hand, my translator told me that Suleimany had a Jewish quarter-- I was sorry that I didn't have time to visit!
Somewhat bad news on the medical front: the sulfur treatment appears not to have been terribly effective. The itching is back as bad as ever and is now accompanied by a new rash on my upper body and face (which was unaffected before and was not part of the treatment). So I may be back to square one. Did the scabies not respond to the treatment? Was it scabies in the first place? Am I having an allergic reaction to the myriad creams and chemicals I've been putting on myself, outside of the original itch? I've decided not to go back to a doctor unless I can get to an American one, simply so I can discuss the situation in detail and not deal with the language barrier.
As things are, I'm finding myself seriously considering cutting the trip short. The discomfort is such that I find it difficult to focus for very long, and in this session in Erbil, I will be doing things which will require a lot of planning and thought. Teaching a general musicianship class and a conducting class with no materials would be a challenge for me under the best of circumstances (I am much more comfortable in rehearsal and private lesson settings) and right now between the itching itself and the lack of sleep I am worried about being effective at all. It would be a terrible shame to go home early for something as minor as an itch but I am miserable enough to consider it. I'll be consulting with John tomorrow. It will be the first day of classes but largely administrative so I have a buffer before making a final decision. Cross your fingers for me-- I'd rather stay!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Arrival in Hewler/Erbil
Khwa le-gel, Suleimani, Chony Arbil!
Sorry about the missed day. Concert and post-concert festivities had us busy until late last night and today was a day of travel. This post comes to you from the Chwardra hotel in Arbil (that name seems to be used only in print; everyone seems to call it by its alternate name, "Hewler" or "Hawler".
Yesterday, of course, was the final concert in Suleimany. It was quite a marathon (one of the film crew called it "Wagnerian" in length). For logistical reasons, we decided to do one large concert of all the theater, dance and music programs together instead of two separate evenings. The result was one four-hour-long extravaganza.
We had a dress rehearsal earlier in the day. I gave the band a lecture about extra focus in concerts and we ran the pieces with touch-ups. After we were through, I told them what joy it gave me to work with them, how much I had learned from them, and how glad I was to have had the opportunity. I said I hoped that we would have more opportunities to work with them in the future, both here and in my home country. When the translator said this, they bowled me over with a shouted "inshallah!" (may it be god's will). I responded with an "inshallah" of my own and dimissed them with a "Al-Hamdu Lillah"-- an Arabic expression that literally means "praise be to god" but is used so frequently by everyone here that it seems to have lost its religious connotation. After the rehearsal I was mobbed by students wanting my e-mail address, photos with me, or just to hug me and cling to me (men are very physically demonstrative here). Tears in everyone's eyes.
The concert began at 6 with the hall packed absolutely to the gills. The hall seated 700-800-- we probably had half again as much. They tried their best with security but things were chaotic. Soldiers serve as ushers here. They actually locked the doors to the hall when the performance got started so no one could leave or enter-- a somewhat terrifying fire hazard. On the other hand, there's something to be said for having armed ushers-- a group of teenagers started getting rowdy in my section and a guy strode over and gave them a warning. Sometimes I wish we could arm ushers at US concert halls with automatic rifles too...
The childrens dance and theater was adorable, of course. The theme of the program was "You Can't Stop the Music", and there were several numbers from Hairspray as well as some other classics. The audience was ecstatic about everything; wild cheers erupted at every opportunity. Gene put up a bunch of jazz groups that ranged from an EXTREMELY laid back group of 7 blues guitars to to a rousing rendition of "Chameleon" on guitar, soprano sax and 'oud (the traditional Arab instrument) complete with hip-hop dancing. An amusing error occurred earlier in the program; it was so noisy backstage (and the sound system so poor) that the dancers couldn't hear what piece was being played and ended up coming out to a laid-back Coltrane number instead. They made it work okay-- it was hip-hop in very slow motion.
There were also a number of theater scenes in Kurdish, and a number of small dance troupes of varying ages. Talent level, as always, ranged from just this side of clueless to some really engaging stage work. The stage and sound system were not ideal-- no lighting system to speak of so we brought in a couple light trees and disco lighting. The sound guy was not terribly competent and didn't speak English so there were a lot of false starts. The audience remained enthusiastic about everything.
The hall was so packed that I was glad there was some attrition as the program went on. When we finally got to the band, about three hours in, we were down to a 90% house (as opposed to the standing room 150% house we started with.
The band gave me some nail-biters. Despite the lecture about extra focus in the concert, they still went wild in the intro to the Brahms right at the beginning and we nearly had a train wreck right out of the gate. Amazingly, the trumpets stepped up (they lead a chorale section about 30 seconds into the piece) and we managed to get on track. It was still a little wobbly but we got through. The trombones blasted the last note as loud as they could and I gave them a look that made one of them hang his head. I'm beginning to hone my "nasty conductor" skills.
The next piece was the medley of American river songs (Deep River, The Water is Wide, and Shenandoah). After wishing the audience "Ewaratan Bash" (good evening) I did a quick talk on the importance of rivers in America and Iraq and described what each song was about. The band settled down and did some nice responsive work in the songs.
Finally, of course, was the Danse Diabolique. Before we played, I brought Mr. Najat to the stage and asked the audience to appreciate the work he did with the Wind Ensemble. Appreciative applause, and I know he enjoyed the gesture. The band did a great job with the the piece-- as well as they had played in any rehearsal. Even the trombones managed to move from a monotone to two notes for ther solos. The piece has a rousing conclusion and the audience loved it. They jumped to their feet with raucous cheers and I managed to get a curtain call or two out of them. Backstage, the people from American Voices who knew the band were astounded-- they said they had never heard wind playing like that here. I was very proud of my guys.
Afterwards, Mr. Najat invited me to have dinner with him and the wind orchestra. It was nice to actually sit down and meet him for a bit. He lived in Denmark for 25 years (his wife is still there) and studied at conservatory in Poland. He also spent a year in Nashville. I know that he has been difficult for our organization to work with and perhaps has done some underhanded things; on the other hand, I have some sympathy for him. It was like this in China too-- in these kinds of settings, you must politically defend your territory like a dog, or you risk losing everything and sometimes you learn to be difficult and Machiavellian. I was glad to end the time in Suleimani on Mr. Najat's good side; if American Voices goes back there, I hope that he will allow his band to participate, and if we left him angry, he could forbid them from going.
This morning we traveled to Erbil, in considerably less comfort than the outgoing trip. Where we had a a caravan of air-conditioned SUV's and a security detail on the way out, this time we had two mini-buses with broken air-conditioning and a tendency to fill with exhaust fumes. No escort at all, so we had to stop at the various checkpoints. Usually when it was clear that we were a bunch of foreigners, we were waved through. At one point we were asked to show our passports, which was a bit of a nail-biter since we have technically overstayed our visas (long story, they'll be renewed tomorrow) but the guards glanced at the documents and waved us through. The translators traveling with us told us that most of the soldiers are totally illiterate anyhow, so they wouldn't be able to decipher the documents in any case.
The hotel here is somewhat nicer than Suleimani. I'm enjoying having real sunlight in my room, and a separate shower stall. Today was the first time in three days that I've been allowed to shower and change clothes, so finally I don't smell like sulphur. I still itch though (even after the bugs are dead you continue to itch for a while) and I'm on a secondary treatment, so I'm still smeared with with ointment.
Tomorrow we check out the site for teaching in Erbil.
Sorry about the missed day. Concert and post-concert festivities had us busy until late last night and today was a day of travel. This post comes to you from the Chwardra hotel in Arbil (that name seems to be used only in print; everyone seems to call it by its alternate name, "Hewler" or "Hawler".
Yesterday, of course, was the final concert in Suleimany. It was quite a marathon (one of the film crew called it "Wagnerian" in length). For logistical reasons, we decided to do one large concert of all the theater, dance and music programs together instead of two separate evenings. The result was one four-hour-long extravaganza.
We had a dress rehearsal earlier in the day. I gave the band a lecture about extra focus in concerts and we ran the pieces with touch-ups. After we were through, I told them what joy it gave me to work with them, how much I had learned from them, and how glad I was to have had the opportunity. I said I hoped that we would have more opportunities to work with them in the future, both here and in my home country. When the translator said this, they bowled me over with a shouted "inshallah!" (may it be god's will). I responded with an "inshallah" of my own and dimissed them with a "Al-Hamdu Lillah"-- an Arabic expression that literally means "praise be to god" but is used so frequently by everyone here that it seems to have lost its religious connotation. After the rehearsal I was mobbed by students wanting my e-mail address, photos with me, or just to hug me and cling to me (men are very physically demonstrative here). Tears in everyone's eyes.
The concert began at 6 with the hall packed absolutely to the gills. The hall seated 700-800-- we probably had half again as much. They tried their best with security but things were chaotic. Soldiers serve as ushers here. They actually locked the doors to the hall when the performance got started so no one could leave or enter-- a somewhat terrifying fire hazard. On the other hand, there's something to be said for having armed ushers-- a group of teenagers started getting rowdy in my section and a guy strode over and gave them a warning. Sometimes I wish we could arm ushers at US concert halls with automatic rifles too...
The childrens dance and theater was adorable, of course. The theme of the program was "You Can't Stop the Music", and there were several numbers from Hairspray as well as some other classics. The audience was ecstatic about everything; wild cheers erupted at every opportunity. Gene put up a bunch of jazz groups that ranged from an EXTREMELY laid back group of 7 blues guitars to to a rousing rendition of "Chameleon" on guitar, soprano sax and 'oud (the traditional Arab instrument) complete with hip-hop dancing. An amusing error occurred earlier in the program; it was so noisy backstage (and the sound system so poor) that the dancers couldn't hear what piece was being played and ended up coming out to a laid-back Coltrane number instead. They made it work okay-- it was hip-hop in very slow motion.
There were also a number of theater scenes in Kurdish, and a number of small dance troupes of varying ages. Talent level, as always, ranged from just this side of clueless to some really engaging stage work. The stage and sound system were not ideal-- no lighting system to speak of so we brought in a couple light trees and disco lighting. The sound guy was not terribly competent and didn't speak English so there were a lot of false starts. The audience remained enthusiastic about everything.
The hall was so packed that I was glad there was some attrition as the program went on. When we finally got to the band, about three hours in, we were down to a 90% house (as opposed to the standing room 150% house we started with.
The band gave me some nail-biters. Despite the lecture about extra focus in the concert, they still went wild in the intro to the Brahms right at the beginning and we nearly had a train wreck right out of the gate. Amazingly, the trumpets stepped up (they lead a chorale section about 30 seconds into the piece) and we managed to get on track. It was still a little wobbly but we got through. The trombones blasted the last note as loud as they could and I gave them a look that made one of them hang his head. I'm beginning to hone my "nasty conductor" skills.
The next piece was the medley of American river songs (Deep River, The Water is Wide, and Shenandoah). After wishing the audience "Ewaratan Bash" (good evening) I did a quick talk on the importance of rivers in America and Iraq and described what each song was about. The band settled down and did some nice responsive work in the songs.
Finally, of course, was the Danse Diabolique. Before we played, I brought Mr. Najat to the stage and asked the audience to appreciate the work he did with the Wind Ensemble. Appreciative applause, and I know he enjoyed the gesture. The band did a great job with the the piece-- as well as they had played in any rehearsal. Even the trombones managed to move from a monotone to two notes for ther solos. The piece has a rousing conclusion and the audience loved it. They jumped to their feet with raucous cheers and I managed to get a curtain call or two out of them. Backstage, the people from American Voices who knew the band were astounded-- they said they had never heard wind playing like that here. I was very proud of my guys.
Afterwards, Mr. Najat invited me to have dinner with him and the wind orchestra. It was nice to actually sit down and meet him for a bit. He lived in Denmark for 25 years (his wife is still there) and studied at conservatory in Poland. He also spent a year in Nashville. I know that he has been difficult for our organization to work with and perhaps has done some underhanded things; on the other hand, I have some sympathy for him. It was like this in China too-- in these kinds of settings, you must politically defend your territory like a dog, or you risk losing everything and sometimes you learn to be difficult and Machiavellian. I was glad to end the time in Suleimani on Mr. Najat's good side; if American Voices goes back there, I hope that he will allow his band to participate, and if we left him angry, he could forbid them from going.
This morning we traveled to Erbil, in considerably less comfort than the outgoing trip. Where we had a a caravan of air-conditioned SUV's and a security detail on the way out, this time we had two mini-buses with broken air-conditioning and a tendency to fill with exhaust fumes. No escort at all, so we had to stop at the various checkpoints. Usually when it was clear that we were a bunch of foreigners, we were waved through. At one point we were asked to show our passports, which was a bit of a nail-biter since we have technically overstayed our visas (long story, they'll be renewed tomorrow) but the guards glanced at the documents and waved us through. The translators traveling with us told us that most of the soldiers are totally illiterate anyhow, so they wouldn't be able to decipher the documents in any case.
The hotel here is somewhat nicer than Suleimani. I'm enjoying having real sunlight in my room, and a separate shower stall. Today was the first time in three days that I've been allowed to shower and change clothes, so finally I don't smell like sulphur. I still itch though (even after the bugs are dead you continue to itch for a while) and I'm on a secondary treatment, so I'm still smeared with with ointment.
Tomorrow we check out the site for teaching in Erbil.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Oh say can you see...
Today was the final day of rehearsals before the dress and gala concert. The band will keep me on my toes until the last minute. I tried running the easy pieces at the beginning of the rehearsals and they nearly fell apart. They do know how to make a much better sound now, though. Anyway, it's unlikely that anyone in the audience knows "Deep River", "Shenandoah" and "The Water is Wide". Or Brahms 1 for that matter. The band kind of rocks on the Danse Diabolique (at least, that's what I think) but that's fast and sound doesn't matter as much.
Mr. Najat is still hanging around-- I made an announcement about concert dress being white top and black bottom (and NO hats) and he immediately stepped in to alter it to all black. Who am I to differ? John Ferguson, the director here, still worries that he's going to step in at the last second to and try to conduct the concert. That would be an interesting bit of drama.
Tomorrow's concert will have a prelude in the lobby, and I'll be accompanying a couple of my wind students-- an Albinoni oboe concerto and a movement of a Bach suite. None of these hats fits me very well, but I sure have a lot of them at the moment. The one thing I'm barely doing is playing my horn-- I broke a string on a valve and I'm trying to find a replacement string here. I may use one of Marc's used gut strings!
After band rehearsal today I gave the trumpets one last sectional. Those army guys are persistent. We kept on hammering away at stuff, and even after it was scheduled to be over, they kept on asking to rehearse more sections or to play something through one more time. It was fine with me, although my Fasil (the translator) gets tired at the end of the day. He's kind of been the limiting factor in my lessons since he won't stay late and the other translators are busy with the other teachers. And I can't fake my way in Kurdish at all.
At the end of the trumpet sectional, one of the guys brought out a little crumpled sheet of music. It was "Star Spangled Banner" with "Department of Defense" emblazoned across the top of it. They wanted me to help them with the style! I made sure they knew what it was (they did) and then I gave them a good coaching. I mean, if they're going to do it, they should do it right). So I sang it for them in as heartfelt and patriotic a manner as I could, and then I played it for them. They told me they want to memorize it. The general feeling here in Kurdistan is pro-US, no question.
It reminded me of an incident earlier in the week with Gene Aitken, the jazz teacher. When I was going through the boxes of music to decide what the band would play, I came across Star Spangled Banner. It seemed to me to be wildly inappropriate, and I kind of chuckled as I pointed it out. Gene told me he thought I ought to do it. I said it seemed not quite right for the situation. A little miffed, he said he had just done it in Nepal. I retorted that we hadn't invaded Nepal recently and he got annoyed and said "whatever". A minute later he tossed "Anchors Aweigh" (the American Navy march) at me-- I think he just wanted to piss me off. There's always more than one point of view. Obviously, many Kurds wouldn't mind playing the US anthem, but it was as much about what I felt comfortable with as anything else. If we were going to play for an American delegation, then it would be a nice gesture. Otherwise, who does it really benefit?
After rehearsal today, one of my army trumpet players offered me a ride home in his cab. I guess when he's not on duty, and not playing trumpet, he's driving a taxi. I declined the ride because I like unwinding on the walk home, but I thought it was a nice gesture.
This evening we went back to Zara's cafe, the Western-style supermarket towards the center of town. My cellphone mysteriously sends and receives text messages there (who knows how much they cost me). The place was filled with families shopping. Obviously the upper crust here but it was packed. I even heard a little girl chattering in English with her parents, even though all were clearly Kurdish.
I'm coated in my second layer of sulfur tonight. Did I mention that I'm NOT to change clothes until the treatment is over? I guess the idea is to get this set saturated in sulfur while the other ones are laundered or boiled or burned. My undergarments are acquiring a distinct yellow tinge. Thanks all for writing about scabies experiences. Makes me feel a little less dirty...
Mr. Najat is still hanging around-- I made an announcement about concert dress being white top and black bottom (and NO hats) and he immediately stepped in to alter it to all black. Who am I to differ? John Ferguson, the director here, still worries that he's going to step in at the last second to and try to conduct the concert. That would be an interesting bit of drama.
Tomorrow's concert will have a prelude in the lobby, and I'll be accompanying a couple of my wind students-- an Albinoni oboe concerto and a movement of a Bach suite. None of these hats fits me very well, but I sure have a lot of them at the moment. The one thing I'm barely doing is playing my horn-- I broke a string on a valve and I'm trying to find a replacement string here. I may use one of Marc's used gut strings!
After band rehearsal today I gave the trumpets one last sectional. Those army guys are persistent. We kept on hammering away at stuff, and even after it was scheduled to be over, they kept on asking to rehearse more sections or to play something through one more time. It was fine with me, although my Fasil (the translator) gets tired at the end of the day. He's kind of been the limiting factor in my lessons since he won't stay late and the other translators are busy with the other teachers. And I can't fake my way in Kurdish at all.
At the end of the trumpet sectional, one of the guys brought out a little crumpled sheet of music. It was "Star Spangled Banner" with "Department of Defense" emblazoned across the top of it. They wanted me to help them with the style! I made sure they knew what it was (they did) and then I gave them a good coaching. I mean, if they're going to do it, they should do it right). So I sang it for them in as heartfelt and patriotic a manner as I could, and then I played it for them. They told me they want to memorize it. The general feeling here in Kurdistan is pro-US, no question.
It reminded me of an incident earlier in the week with Gene Aitken, the jazz teacher. When I was going through the boxes of music to decide what the band would play, I came across Star Spangled Banner. It seemed to me to be wildly inappropriate, and I kind of chuckled as I pointed it out. Gene told me he thought I ought to do it. I said it seemed not quite right for the situation. A little miffed, he said he had just done it in Nepal. I retorted that we hadn't invaded Nepal recently and he got annoyed and said "whatever". A minute later he tossed "Anchors Aweigh" (the American Navy march) at me-- I think he just wanted to piss me off. There's always more than one point of view. Obviously, many Kurds wouldn't mind playing the US anthem, but it was as much about what I felt comfortable with as anything else. If we were going to play for an American delegation, then it would be a nice gesture. Otherwise, who does it really benefit?
After rehearsal today, one of my army trumpet players offered me a ride home in his cab. I guess when he's not on duty, and not playing trumpet, he's driving a taxi. I declined the ride because I like unwinding on the walk home, but I thought it was a nice gesture.
This evening we went back to Zara's cafe, the Western-style supermarket towards the center of town. My cellphone mysteriously sends and receives text messages there (who knows how much they cost me). The place was filled with families shopping. Obviously the upper crust here but it was packed. I even heard a little girl chattering in English with her parents, even though all were clearly Kurdish.
I'm coated in my second layer of sulfur tonight. Did I mention that I'm NOT to change clothes until the treatment is over? I guess the idea is to get this set saturated in sulfur while the other ones are laundered or boiled or burned. My undergarments are acquiring a distinct yellow tinge. Thanks all for writing about scabies experiences. Makes me feel a little less dirty...
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Greasy and smelly
Ewarat bash (good evening) from Sulemani!
I first must say how moving some of the comments on the last post were to me. I am reminded again how lucky I feel to have such passionate and feeling friends and family. And I must say, I was playing a bit of the devil's advocate in the last post. As many of you know, I asked myself the question of whether I could put a life together without playing the french horn years ago and discovered the answer was an emphatic no-- I couldn't help but play. And in the past few years, I've found that, to a somewhat lesser degree, I cannot help but teach as well.
So I do what I do, and the students do what they do. From the moment I heard of the opportunity to be here, I think it was invevitable that I would come. And I have no regrets that I have.
That said, inspiring and fulfilling as it is to work with students who have so little opportunity, it is amusing to what degree we approach the same mix of attitudes and degrees of talent, seriousness, inflated self-perspective, and attitude that I would expect from any mix of high school and young college students. Of course, in this setting, the very normality of it is comforting and somewhat encouraging. We truly are so much more the same than we are different. Music is a wonderful high-level common denominator, but a lower-level one is the constitutional inability of a seventeen-year-old guy to read a dynamic or practice slowly! And I love it all.
Today was an interesting day for entirely different reasons. I may be wandering into the dangerous blog terrain of TMI, but it's an amusing story.
I have been alluding a little to a medical problem that I have been having. The short version, for those who haven't seen me recently, is this: I have been itching. All over. Intensely. All the time. This started about five weeks ago, and I haven't really had a decent night of sleep since then. I had been to three doctors in the US and they all had diagnosed it as some sort of allergy. They ruled out some of the scarier possibilities, like skin cancer and other umentionables, but none of them could come up with a diagnosis that made the slight different. No treatment seemed even to alleviate the itching, let alone cure it.
Well, sometimes it pays to hang out with a bunch of teachers who are used to third-world countries. It turns out I have a rather intense case of scabies. Definitely somewhat embarassing (although not so much that I don't write about it here), but such a relief to know that I have something treatable and that this will all be coming to an end.
Of course, being in Iraq, my treatment is a little old school. I went by the hospital this morning for the diagnosis and prescription. And so it is that I am now coated in an ointment made from 10% sulfur. The pharmacist mixed it up on the spot in a ramshackle old shop in the central bazaar in town. The doctor has told me that I may not shower or change clothes for the next three days, only add layers of this sulfurous stuff. Since our concert is Tuesday, that means that I have already donned my concert clothes and I they should be thoroughly imbued with sulfur by the time of the concert. This may put some conductor odor stories to shame! However, any kind of suffering will be worth it if it brings this miserable sleepless itching to a close.
Running around town to take care of the prescriptions and dealing with my clothing took up almost the whole morning, so wind class was cancelled. Band continues well. At tonight's teachers' meeting to plan the concert on Tuesday, I was proud to be able to say I could provide a fifteen-minute program and a big finish if they needed one. Except for the trombone solos in the Helmesberger. My homework is to write those into the baritone sax part since that's the only way they'll get played.
I had a sectional with my hard-working trumpet players tonight. They've come much further than I had imagined possible a few days ago. I think even they are kind of surprised. Understand, of course, that this is all relative, and the potential for disaster is high. But even so, I think they finally have a taste of what it means to play properly in an ensemble. They adjust to each other and sometimes even to the rest of the group and I can rely on them for eye contact in rehearsal which just warms my little heart. The army guys have vowed to practice reading this year so that they can keep up better.
I just turned down an invitation to spend the night at the guys dorm. I have a feeling it would turn into one long string of private lessons, and I have got to get some rest. And being coated in sulfur hardly makes me feel socially comfortable!
I first must say how moving some of the comments on the last post were to me. I am reminded again how lucky I feel to have such passionate and feeling friends and family. And I must say, I was playing a bit of the devil's advocate in the last post. As many of you know, I asked myself the question of whether I could put a life together without playing the french horn years ago and discovered the answer was an emphatic no-- I couldn't help but play. And in the past few years, I've found that, to a somewhat lesser degree, I cannot help but teach as well.
So I do what I do, and the students do what they do. From the moment I heard of the opportunity to be here, I think it was invevitable that I would come. And I have no regrets that I have.
That said, inspiring and fulfilling as it is to work with students who have so little opportunity, it is amusing to what degree we approach the same mix of attitudes and degrees of talent, seriousness, inflated self-perspective, and attitude that I would expect from any mix of high school and young college students. Of course, in this setting, the very normality of it is comforting and somewhat encouraging. We truly are so much more the same than we are different. Music is a wonderful high-level common denominator, but a lower-level one is the constitutional inability of a seventeen-year-old guy to read a dynamic or practice slowly! And I love it all.
Today was an interesting day for entirely different reasons. I may be wandering into the dangerous blog terrain of TMI, but it's an amusing story.
I have been alluding a little to a medical problem that I have been having. The short version, for those who haven't seen me recently, is this: I have been itching. All over. Intensely. All the time. This started about five weeks ago, and I haven't really had a decent night of sleep since then. I had been to three doctors in the US and they all had diagnosed it as some sort of allergy. They ruled out some of the scarier possibilities, like skin cancer and other umentionables, but none of them could come up with a diagnosis that made the slight different. No treatment seemed even to alleviate the itching, let alone cure it.
Well, sometimes it pays to hang out with a bunch of teachers who are used to third-world countries. It turns out I have a rather intense case of scabies. Definitely somewhat embarassing (although not so much that I don't write about it here), but such a relief to know that I have something treatable and that this will all be coming to an end.
Of course, being in Iraq, my treatment is a little old school. I went by the hospital this morning for the diagnosis and prescription. And so it is that I am now coated in an ointment made from 10% sulfur. The pharmacist mixed it up on the spot in a ramshackle old shop in the central bazaar in town. The doctor has told me that I may not shower or change clothes for the next three days, only add layers of this sulfurous stuff. Since our concert is Tuesday, that means that I have already donned my concert clothes and I they should be thoroughly imbued with sulfur by the time of the concert. This may put some conductor odor stories to shame! However, any kind of suffering will be worth it if it brings this miserable sleepless itching to a close.
Running around town to take care of the prescriptions and dealing with my clothing took up almost the whole morning, so wind class was cancelled. Band continues well. At tonight's teachers' meeting to plan the concert on Tuesday, I was proud to be able to say I could provide a fifteen-minute program and a big finish if they needed one. Except for the trombone solos in the Helmesberger. My homework is to write those into the baritone sax part since that's the only way they'll get played.
I had a sectional with my hard-working trumpet players tonight. They've come much further than I had imagined possible a few days ago. I think even they are kind of surprised. Understand, of course, that this is all relative, and the potential for disaster is high. But even so, I think they finally have a taste of what it means to play properly in an ensemble. They adjust to each other and sometimes even to the rest of the group and I can rely on them for eye contact in rehearsal which just warms my little heart. The army guys have vowed to practice reading this year so that they can keep up better.
I just turned down an invitation to spend the night at the guys dorm. I have a feeling it would turn into one long string of private lessons, and I have got to get some rest. And being coated in sulfur hardly makes me feel socially comfortable!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
More reflections
Carol McAnn, the theater teacher, told me a chilling story last night. Last summer, at the ballet academy, there was a ten-year-old girl from Baghdad who was really the star of the academy. She showed a huge amount of progress and potential and the teachers felt that she would ultimately be the core of a future Iraqi ballet program.
This past fall, after they returned to Baghdad, the girl and her whole family were killed by fundamentalists after they found out about the girl's dancing. The crime was sensationally brutal, even by Baghdadi standards-- in a city where extreme violence is the norm, the crime remained at the top of the headlines for a week.
This causes me to reconsider what we are doing here in a different light. As it is, I have been wondering how much good we are doing. Especially for the more talented students, I feel like we are holding out the promise of something which is really unattainable for them. It is nearly impossible to get a visa to leave here, even to study in another country, no matter how talented, and it seems unlikely that Suleimany or Kurdistan in general is going to have a viable classical music scene in this generation, even if it manages to remain peaceful and stable. Are we really doing them a favor to train them and instill this love for music in them?
The question gets infintely more complicated if we must worry that we are training them in a skill that might ultimately put them in danger. I don't know where my line of responsibility ends. Carol consoles herself with the fact that she brought so much joy and pride to the girl in the last summer of her life, but if I knew that my horn student would be killed for playing, I think that I would send him away and tell him to find another way to occupy his time. Since there is no way to know, I keep on teaching as best as I can and hope the consequences are mostly good.
Things continue well in these last few days at the academy. The band is improving remarkably and today I was able to announce that we would add the more difficult Danse Diabolique to the program. Smiles and and a spontaneous round of self-appreciative applause. An Iraqi television crew arrived in the middle of rehearsal to interview me. I gave them some boilerplate about how well the band had been prepared by Mr. Najat. Hopefully he remains an ally.
A funny incident in band rehearsal-- like any band director worth his salt, I have been cajoling and pleading for more dynamics almost unceasingly with sparse results. Today at break the clarinet section called me over to witness a presentation. Apparently they feel that one of their number has consistently failed to play anything but forte no matter how much I lean on them. So they presented him with a cheap charm necklace with a little "p" on it (for piano). He took it well, and it was a good laugh all around.
Tonight, my horn student, Goran; my translator, Fazil and one of their friends took me out for a bite to eat and to see a little more of Sulemani. We first went to an antique shop in the museum district. It was filled with dusty detritus from the past century and a half of occupation and wars here. Russian samovars, Turkish scimitars, coins from Iraq, Syria, Jordan and Saudi Arabia, old phonographs and rifles, photographs of a Kurdish martyr being hanged in Iran.... It was dusty and disorganized, but it gave a real sense of what this area has been through over the generations.
Afterwards, we went to the Zara market, a new and brightly lit supermarket filled with items both local and imported from Europe and America. Upstairs was a cafe serving both local and western-style items. I think Goran was a little disappointed when I opted to have Shwarma instead of "humburger" but I did get what the Kurds call "finger chips"-- french fries. Is that a british-ism?
Must be up bright and early tomorrow. We drop by the visa office as our ten-day tourist visa is about to run out!
This past fall, after they returned to Baghdad, the girl and her whole family were killed by fundamentalists after they found out about the girl's dancing. The crime was sensationally brutal, even by Baghdadi standards-- in a city where extreme violence is the norm, the crime remained at the top of the headlines for a week.
This causes me to reconsider what we are doing here in a different light. As it is, I have been wondering how much good we are doing. Especially for the more talented students, I feel like we are holding out the promise of something which is really unattainable for them. It is nearly impossible to get a visa to leave here, even to study in another country, no matter how talented, and it seems unlikely that Suleimany or Kurdistan in general is going to have a viable classical music scene in this generation, even if it manages to remain peaceful and stable. Are we really doing them a favor to train them and instill this love for music in them?
The question gets infintely more complicated if we must worry that we are training them in a skill that might ultimately put them in danger. I don't know where my line of responsibility ends. Carol consoles herself with the fact that she brought so much joy and pride to the girl in the last summer of her life, but if I knew that my horn student would be killed for playing, I think that I would send him away and tell him to find another way to occupy his time. Since there is no way to know, I keep on teaching as best as I can and hope the consequences are mostly good.
Things continue well in these last few days at the academy. The band is improving remarkably and today I was able to announce that we would add the more difficult Danse Diabolique to the program. Smiles and and a spontaneous round of self-appreciative applause. An Iraqi television crew arrived in the middle of rehearsal to interview me. I gave them some boilerplate about how well the band had been prepared by Mr. Najat. Hopefully he remains an ally.
A funny incident in band rehearsal-- like any band director worth his salt, I have been cajoling and pleading for more dynamics almost unceasingly with sparse results. Today at break the clarinet section called me over to witness a presentation. Apparently they feel that one of their number has consistently failed to play anything but forte no matter how much I lean on them. So they presented him with a cheap charm necklace with a little "p" on it (for piano). He took it well, and it was a good laugh all around.
Tonight, my horn student, Goran; my translator, Fazil and one of their friends took me out for a bite to eat and to see a little more of Sulemani. We first went to an antique shop in the museum district. It was filled with dusty detritus from the past century and a half of occupation and wars here. Russian samovars, Turkish scimitars, coins from Iraq, Syria, Jordan and Saudi Arabia, old phonographs and rifles, photographs of a Kurdish martyr being hanged in Iran.... It was dusty and disorganized, but it gave a real sense of what this area has been through over the generations.
Afterwards, we went to the Zara market, a new and brightly lit supermarket filled with items both local and imported from Europe and America. Upstairs was a cafe serving both local and western-style items. I think Goran was a little disappointed when I opted to have Shwarma instead of "humburger" but I did get what the Kurds call "finger chips"-- french fries. Is that a british-ism?
Must be up bright and early tomorrow. We drop by the visa office as our ten-day tourist visa is about to run out!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Meester Karrhorn
Today was the first friday in Iraq. Many shops are closed, but it was not a day off at the academy. However, the building where the theater and dance students have been rehearsing was closed, so the dancers took over the building where my normal woodwind class is in the morning. I took over in the lobby space of one of the buidlings. The dancers were supposed to tell my late-arriving students where I was but the communication didn't work out. So I had a very small class today. It was just as well, I like the groups anyhow.
At lunch I was reunited with my students (some of them very hurt that they had missed class). As time gets shorter here, a lot of them are collecting photos and e-mail addresses. I explained to a few of my students the simple pun in my e-mail address which they got a kick out of. A few of the mischievous ones now call me "Meester Karrhorn".
Band practice was more of the same today. Sound exercises, me begging and pleading with the trumpets and trombones, dynamics on occasion. I gave them a slightly earlier break than usual and was surprised that when I dismissed them they all remained silently in their seats. The silence was eerie and only explained when I turned around to leave and saw the dreaded Mr. Najat (the director of the Suleimani wind orchestra). I worried that I might be in trouble. Apparently he has a bit of a habit of undermining operations at the Unity Academy. And I was going behind his back a little in inviting other students who were not actually in the wind orchestra to play in the band. But I sweet-talked him for a bit, asking for input and thanking him for letting the "less-advanced" students play with the "strong and experienced" players of the wind orchestra. When I left the stage, he apparently gave them a lecture about being more respectful towards me in rehearsal, so I guess I'm not on his bad side yet....
I gave a long lesson to the trombone player today. I explained that although he was an experienced player, it was important to review basics. I flipped back to the first page of method book and began slogging through the introductory position exercises. I think that 20 minutes might have been the first time since he started the instrument that he played the actual notes written on the page with the correct rhythm. I wish I could have him every other day for a month to send him on the right path; I just have to hope that some of this sticks.
Goran, my horn player, got a present of slide grease and oil and a lesson on horn maintenance. His horn is a shoddily made Chinese instrument in despicable condition, but I did my best to show him how to keep it up. My last student was a saxophone player who just wanted more breathing exercises.
Now that I've been here a week, I feel like reflecting a little on what I have and haven't seen here in Sule. What was I expecting? I knew that this was a quiet city and that it was not as violent as the rest of the country. And truly, there are no visible signs of violence or war here. People move in the streets freely, there is certainly no damage, and there are plenty of new high rise construction sites-- hardly the mark of a city worried about collapsing into chaos. The population seems reasonably prosperous as well. Plenty of people shopping, lots of appliance shops and car dealerships, very few signs of poverty and homelessness in the sections of the city that I've seen.
On the other hand, my limited experience with the students from Kirkuk and people from other cities has made it very clear that the rest of the country is living at a high level of violence. I've heard too many disturbing and gruesome stories to ignore the fact that the problems are never far away here. Kirkuk, after all, is only a 45 minute drive.
Something I have not seen here: US soldiers. I don't know if there is any presence at all in Sule, but if so, it's very low key. Plenty of Iraqi army soldiers around, patrolling schools or political party headquarters, but even they seem pretty laid back. Most Kurds are highly appreciative of the American intervention here (especially the original one in 1991). They have nothing bad to say about George Bush. Another city not too far from here is Halabja, the Kurdish city gassed by Saddam in the 80's. There is no nostalgia at all for the old regime.
Another interesting thing to note is the position of women here. I've seen a few women in full-body covering and veil. More common is a simple veil casually over the hair. And plenty of women wear no veil at all. Revealing dresses and tight tee-shirts that any American teeny-bopper would feel comfortable in are seen freqently too, with no comment or raised eye-brow. On the other hand, it is clear that women are in general less visible in society. Almost all my students are men and women clearly don't usually feel comfortable in assertive situations.
One thing that has been completely unlike my experience in China is the fact that I blend in with the population. Kurds tend to be somewhat lighter than Arabs, and fair skin, light brown hair, and grey or green eyes are not uncommon. And many of them sport a... shall we say... Semitic proboscis. Add to the fact that the men tend to be very skinny (and pride themselves on it if my translator is an example) and I fit right in. I have even been asked for directions on the street, and I am addressed in Kurdish unless I speak English first.
This makes not being able to speak better Kurdish even more trying than it might be otherwise! My efforts are all appreciated and I have a little more every day but I will hardly be fluent by the time I leave.
Late here, more thoughts tomorrow.
PS. I have enabled comments for non-members on here in case anyone is dying to ask something or drop a line-- all comments have been greatly appreciated. Also, I have an APO address in Erbil for people interested to send materials. If you are interested and would like ideas on what would be most useful please let me know, through here, facebook, or at my regular e-mail. Thanks!
At lunch I was reunited with my students (some of them very hurt that they had missed class). As time gets shorter here, a lot of them are collecting photos and e-mail addresses. I explained to a few of my students the simple pun in my e-mail address which they got a kick out of. A few of the mischievous ones now call me "Meester Karrhorn".
Band practice was more of the same today. Sound exercises, me begging and pleading with the trumpets and trombones, dynamics on occasion. I gave them a slightly earlier break than usual and was surprised that when I dismissed them they all remained silently in their seats. The silence was eerie and only explained when I turned around to leave and saw the dreaded Mr. Najat (the director of the Suleimani wind orchestra). I worried that I might be in trouble. Apparently he has a bit of a habit of undermining operations at the Unity Academy. And I was going behind his back a little in inviting other students who were not actually in the wind orchestra to play in the band. But I sweet-talked him for a bit, asking for input and thanking him for letting the "less-advanced" students play with the "strong and experienced" players of the wind orchestra. When I left the stage, he apparently gave them a lecture about being more respectful towards me in rehearsal, so I guess I'm not on his bad side yet....
I gave a long lesson to the trombone player today. I explained that although he was an experienced player, it was important to review basics. I flipped back to the first page of method book and began slogging through the introductory position exercises. I think that 20 minutes might have been the first time since he started the instrument that he played the actual notes written on the page with the correct rhythm. I wish I could have him every other day for a month to send him on the right path; I just have to hope that some of this sticks.
Goran, my horn player, got a present of slide grease and oil and a lesson on horn maintenance. His horn is a shoddily made Chinese instrument in despicable condition, but I did my best to show him how to keep it up. My last student was a saxophone player who just wanted more breathing exercises.
Now that I've been here a week, I feel like reflecting a little on what I have and haven't seen here in Sule. What was I expecting? I knew that this was a quiet city and that it was not as violent as the rest of the country. And truly, there are no visible signs of violence or war here. People move in the streets freely, there is certainly no damage, and there are plenty of new high rise construction sites-- hardly the mark of a city worried about collapsing into chaos. The population seems reasonably prosperous as well. Plenty of people shopping, lots of appliance shops and car dealerships, very few signs of poverty and homelessness in the sections of the city that I've seen.
On the other hand, my limited experience with the students from Kirkuk and people from other cities has made it very clear that the rest of the country is living at a high level of violence. I've heard too many disturbing and gruesome stories to ignore the fact that the problems are never far away here. Kirkuk, after all, is only a 45 minute drive.
Something I have not seen here: US soldiers. I don't know if there is any presence at all in Sule, but if so, it's very low key. Plenty of Iraqi army soldiers around, patrolling schools or political party headquarters, but even they seem pretty laid back. Most Kurds are highly appreciative of the American intervention here (especially the original one in 1991). They have nothing bad to say about George Bush. Another city not too far from here is Halabja, the Kurdish city gassed by Saddam in the 80's. There is no nostalgia at all for the old regime.
Another interesting thing to note is the position of women here. I've seen a few women in full-body covering and veil. More common is a simple veil casually over the hair. And plenty of women wear no veil at all. Revealing dresses and tight tee-shirts that any American teeny-bopper would feel comfortable in are seen freqently too, with no comment or raised eye-brow. On the other hand, it is clear that women are in general less visible in society. Almost all my students are men and women clearly don't usually feel comfortable in assertive situations.
One thing that has been completely unlike my experience in China is the fact that I blend in with the population. Kurds tend to be somewhat lighter than Arabs, and fair skin, light brown hair, and grey or green eyes are not uncommon. And many of them sport a... shall we say... Semitic proboscis. Add to the fact that the men tend to be very skinny (and pride themselves on it if my translator is an example) and I fit right in. I have even been asked for directions on the street, and I am addressed in Kurdish unless I speak English first.
This makes not being able to speak better Kurdish even more trying than it might be otherwise! My efforts are all appreciated and I have a little more every day but I will hardly be fluent by the time I leave.
Late here, more thoughts tomorrow.
PS. I have enabled comments for non-members on here in case anyone is dying to ask something or drop a line-- all comments have been greatly appreciated. Also, I have an APO address in Erbil for people interested to send materials. If you are interested and would like ideas on what would be most useful please let me know, through here, facebook, or at my regular e-mail. Thanks!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Clinics and Amusement Parks in Sule
In case anyone is wondering if I have lost all spelling skills, or am spending each day in a different city, know that the city I am staying in has a range of spellings and pronunciations. It has slightly different names in Arabic and Kurdish, and there is no consistent transliteration of either. Plus it is often called "Sule" for short. I have seen spellings ranging from the proper and somewhat grandiloquent "As-Suleimaniyaa" to the brief "Slemani".
Today was another action packed day. My breathing classes have gotten more and more popular, which is flattering, but there is a lot of attrition once we move into the masterclass segment of the class. It's okay-- I like the smaller group that is more serious, and I'm glad that everyone is taking breathing seriously.
[The next paragraph contains some descriptions of violence in other parts of Iraq]
One of my Kirkuki students came to me today to say good-bye-- he was going home to Kirkuk. He told me that he really wanted to stay but his brother had been injured in a bombing so he had to go. I expressed my shock and distress and sympathy, but he smiled at my translator who smiled at me and said "Don't be so worried-- this is normal for us in Kirkuk".
Suleimaniya has been essentially free from violence, and the city has a normal upbeat vibe to it, but evidence that we are in a war-torn country is definitely not far the surface. Several Iraqis have shown me videos of violence that they have taken with their cellphones. Last night, a guy showed me a video of men getting gunned down by snipers trying to cross a square in baghdad. And today, a student showed me a video from Kirkuk. "These are terrorists," he said, and showed me a video of a bunch of men lying on the ground in front of a wall. Suddenly a man walked across the line with a machine gun firing into them. Not a pleasant image.
Fortunately such things do not really intrude in our work at the academy. Daily sound work with the band is beginning to yield results that I can hear--I don't know if they're obvious to anyone else though. We will probably just do two short pieces in the final concert-- the arrangement of themes from Brahms 1 and the American river songs. I'd love to do the Danse Diabolique but the band isn't quite up to it. The five Iraqi army soldiers who constitute my trumpet section had a private session with me today. They earnestly explained how hard it was for them to read music, and I tried to offer some encouragement and ideas for learning techniques. Each suggestion was met with furrowed brows and very serious consideration. In the end, I expressed my gratitude for their army service and they lined up and shook hands with me. Nice chaps. They're all twice my size.
I also gave a lesson to my little nine year old piccolo player. His minuet in G was much closer to 3/4 today. I had Marc Thayer play it for him on the violin and he was suitably impressed. Marc is a great teacher and gave him some good info and help too. Now if only I knew enough about the piccolo to keep him from jumping the octave all the time...
Afterwards, it was off to the clinic. I had a mole removed from my back just before coming to Iraq, so the stitches had to come out. Also, I've developed a bit of nasty infection on the side of one finger here, so I needed some antibiotics. We went to a regular Iraqi street clinic. There was a doctor there, Arabic, who spoke English (although I had a translator with me in case), as well as a lame older gentleman mopping the floors. The doctor checked everything out, gave me the pills, then sent me into the other room. The guy who had been mopping dropped the mop, washed up, curtly had me remove my shirt ("Uff! Uff!"), broke out a razor blade, and gently and competently removed the stitches, disinfected the scar, and sent me on my way. I paid full price for the visit-- 10,000 Dinars-- around US$8.
I treated myself to a hearty dinner of schnitzel and hummus (one of the glories at Foodland, the fast food place across the street from the hotel). Then I spent the evening at a park in the hills on the outskirts of town. There was a hopping amusement park, with a ferris wheel and pirate ship ride (the ship was adorned with Arabian horses instead of pirates though). Our dancers were practicing their hip-hop moves in the park which attracted a small, bemused crowd of Iraqis. Back to the hotel late-- luckily, I have been sleeping through the night recently so I'm feeling better rested than I have in a while. And it's time for me to rest now. Cross your fingers on internet for me tomorrow!
PS. Many people have been asking about the possiblity of contributing music, instruments, accessories etc to the academy here. Marc, John and I are discussing the possibilities-- things here are rarely simple and we want to make sure that if something gets sent, it goes to the people who need it. But the thoughts are deeply appreciated and I hope we can use your help!
Today was another action packed day. My breathing classes have gotten more and more popular, which is flattering, but there is a lot of attrition once we move into the masterclass segment of the class. It's okay-- I like the smaller group that is more serious, and I'm glad that everyone is taking breathing seriously.
[The next paragraph contains some descriptions of violence in other parts of Iraq]
One of my Kirkuki students came to me today to say good-bye-- he was going home to Kirkuk. He told me that he really wanted to stay but his brother had been injured in a bombing so he had to go. I expressed my shock and distress and sympathy, but he smiled at my translator who smiled at me and said "Don't be so worried-- this is normal for us in Kirkuk".
Suleimaniya has been essentially free from violence, and the city has a normal upbeat vibe to it, but evidence that we are in a war-torn country is definitely not far the surface. Several Iraqis have shown me videos of violence that they have taken with their cellphones. Last night, a guy showed me a video of men getting gunned down by snipers trying to cross a square in baghdad. And today, a student showed me a video from Kirkuk. "These are terrorists," he said, and showed me a video of a bunch of men lying on the ground in front of a wall. Suddenly a man walked across the line with a machine gun firing into them. Not a pleasant image.
Fortunately such things do not really intrude in our work at the academy. Daily sound work with the band is beginning to yield results that I can hear--I don't know if they're obvious to anyone else though. We will probably just do two short pieces in the final concert-- the arrangement of themes from Brahms 1 and the American river songs. I'd love to do the Danse Diabolique but the band isn't quite up to it. The five Iraqi army soldiers who constitute my trumpet section had a private session with me today. They earnestly explained how hard it was for them to read music, and I tried to offer some encouragement and ideas for learning techniques. Each suggestion was met with furrowed brows and very serious consideration. In the end, I expressed my gratitude for their army service and they lined up and shook hands with me. Nice chaps. They're all twice my size.
I also gave a lesson to my little nine year old piccolo player. His minuet in G was much closer to 3/4 today. I had Marc Thayer play it for him on the violin and he was suitably impressed. Marc is a great teacher and gave him some good info and help too. Now if only I knew enough about the piccolo to keep him from jumping the octave all the time...
Afterwards, it was off to the clinic. I had a mole removed from my back just before coming to Iraq, so the stitches had to come out. Also, I've developed a bit of nasty infection on the side of one finger here, so I needed some antibiotics. We went to a regular Iraqi street clinic. There was a doctor there, Arabic, who spoke English (although I had a translator with me in case), as well as a lame older gentleman mopping the floors. The doctor checked everything out, gave me the pills, then sent me into the other room. The guy who had been mopping dropped the mop, washed up, curtly had me remove my shirt ("Uff! Uff!"), broke out a razor blade, and gently and competently removed the stitches, disinfected the scar, and sent me on my way. I paid full price for the visit-- 10,000 Dinars-- around US$8.
I treated myself to a hearty dinner of schnitzel and hummus (one of the glories at Foodland, the fast food place across the street from the hotel). Then I spent the evening at a park in the hills on the outskirts of town. There was a hopping amusement park, with a ferris wheel and pirate ship ride (the ship was adorned with Arabian horses instead of pirates though). Our dancers were practicing their hip-hop moves in the park which attracted a small, bemused crowd of Iraqis. Back to the hotel late-- luckily, I have been sleeping through the night recently so I'm feeling better rested than I have in a while. And it's time for me to rest now. Cross your fingers on internet for me tomorrow!
PS. Many people have been asking about the possiblity of contributing music, instruments, accessories etc to the academy here. Marc, John and I are discussing the possibilities-- things here are rarely simple and we want to make sure that if something gets sent, it goes to the people who need it. But the thoughts are deeply appreciated and I hope we can use your help!
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