Bravo, EUYO

It was at the end of a hot, sticky Sunday in Berlin that EUYO arrived at the Konzerthaus to play to a sold-out audience. The opening piece, Ravel's Bolero, was well suited to the circumstances: its repeating theme echoed the oppressive, stifling heat; the snare drum rhythm, sounding from the centre of the orchestra, pressed on in relentless determination, with each ostinato mounting the tension.

A dramatic introduction to a dramatic concert. All of a sudden the continuous drum beat came to a halt, the rest of the orchestra stopped their playing, and doctors rushed onstage. The percussionist had fainted; silence replaced the steady rhythm and whirling melody as shock pervaded the room. You could hear a pin drop. The unwell player left the stage to a round of applause; the orchestra followed with apprehension.

What happened next is a testament to the togetherness and determination of this orchestra of young, exceptionally talented musicians. Five minutes later they were back onstage to play the next piece, showing no audible or visible signs of being fazed by what had occurred, all pulling together to perform a superb rendition of Prokofiev's Piano Concerto No. 2 in G minor Op. 16 with soloist Alexander Romanovsky, which was met with rapturous applause. The players turned to each other with beaming smiles and gave each other hugs of relief and congratulation. Every single member had shown strength and determination, and it certainly did not go unappreciated.

After the eventful first half, we reseated ourselves with nervous anticipation - and watched with awe as the unwell percussionist returned to the stage to partake in Pictures at an Exhibition, deservedly patted on the back by his colleagues. For an orchestra whose membership is diverse - its players come from all 28 EU countries - their support for each other is both staggering and touching. They didn't just pull through - they pulled off an astounding second half, which concluded with the Bolero being played again to the very end, and the percussionist receiving a standing ovation from both the audience and his fellow musicians.

It's easy to go to a concert and hear technical excellence, but rare that such passion and resolve is made so tangible by the musicians. EUYO managed both: musical excellence despite tough circumstances, and a sense of collaboration and devotion to their playing that moved certain audience members to tears.

As the players hugged each other once again, with a mix of sweat and tears running down their faces, the cultural differences between them amounted to nothing. EUYO unites its members in the spirit of musical collaboration, and the evening proved that it has well and truly achieved its goal. As cultural ambassadors to an organisation that wishes to achieve the same among its member nations, the EUYO musicians prove the power of working together in the face of adversity. It might be idealistic to hope that their example could be translated into the political arena, but their efforts nonetheless serve as a shining example of the success that can be achieved when nations pull together in difficult circumstances. Listening and watching EUYO last night made me feel a proud European: our combined strength is formidable, and something we ought to take heed of more often.

What I owe EUYO

Touring with the European Union Youth Orchestra this summer taught me some valuable lessons:  Sleep is a precious thing. Gin is an even more precious thing. And above all, Europe’s young musicians are one of the most precious things possessed by our continent.
 

EUYO is an organisation like no other. It brings together the finest young musicians of the EU’s 27 member states and offers them the opportunity of living and working together whilst giving concerts across Europe. The range of cultures, backgrounds and circumstances is vast – and yet when they play together, their harmony is magical.

 

 

As intern, my role was to help ensure that this well-oiled vessel ran as smoothly as possible. Considering the diversity of the orchestra, this is no mean feat. At dinnertime, the Italians arrive late, the French complain about the quality of the food, the Spanish complain that there is no wine to accompany the food, and the Irish have probably gone straight to the pub and won’t show up at all. One must make sure that the Dutch clarinettist who is allergic to broccoli, haddock and kiwi fruit has been catered for, and that the brass section does not commandeer all the sausages before the rest of the orchestra has had its share. The kitchen staff protest that our musicians are helping themselves to the salad buffet, which is strictly for other hotel guests only. As I attempt to ward off the sneaky pickers, a Portuguese trombone player turns an alarming shade of puce and his face begins to swell up – his acute macadamia nut allergy has been overlooked, and he requires urgent medical attention.

Culinary crises are just the tip of the iceberg: having spent hours drawing up rooming lists for each of the numerous hotels where the orchestra stays during the tour, a French flautist decides that, after a week together, he cannot tolerate the sleep-walking of his Bulgarian bassoonist roommate and asks to change, whilst a Hungarian trumpeter asks if his new-found love interest, a Swedish violinist, might be able to share his room. A few days later, the aforementioned Swede enters the office in tears – it transpires that our Hungarian hunk has moved on to a Czech cellist...

 

 

It’s not just the orchestra members who present such challenges. The Romanian ambassador shows up unannounced at a concert and expects tickets not only for himself, but also for his twenty-strong entourage – the seating plan must be rapidly reworked. Then the Belgian consul arrives, and refuses to sit anywhere near the Austrian party, on account of an obscure affair which took place several years ago. No questions are asked; the seating plan is frantically scrubbed out once again, and fresh efforts made to accommodate the change of circumstances. All of a sudden there’s an almighty commotion – the Queen has arrived, and the oboist who was due to greet her has lost his reeds, so a replacement must be found immediately. Ah, and Her Majesty doesn’t get along so well with the Finnish ambassador, so can this also be factored into the seating arrangements? And you haven’t forgotten that the Minister for Foreign Affairs will be arriving ten minutes late? Good. Surely that can’t have been the five minute bell? Why are we flying the Hungarian flag at a concert in Italy? Are we even in Italy? Or was that yesterday’s concert? Keep calm, breathe, and if you can’t smile then at least show your teeth. The show must go on.

And go on it does – invariably to rapturous applause and rave reviews. Considering the obstacles that the orchestra must overcome in order to arrange, fund, and ultimately perform at concerts, it pulls it off sensationally well. To organise the concert, considerable trust must be placed in the hands of agents whose limited English is cause for slight concern (“You want double bass? Send me photo, I make happen”). Finding the money to finance the orchestra demands a delicate balance between relentlessness and charm (“Monsieur Le Benefacteur, we are delighted to present you with a bow tie styled in the design of the EU flag, to remind you of your ongoing commitment to supporting the orchestra…”). As for the logistics of transporting 130 musicians and their instruments across Europe, I have never known walkie-talkie communication between buses on an Autobahn to be so slick (“Come in Bus 4? Bus 4, are you aware that a music stand is balancing precariously on the roof of your vehicle?”) The staff work tirelessly to ensure that the tour runs as smoothly as possible, and I have enormous respect for them all.

 

 

As for the players, quite apart from their unparalleled musical talent, EUYO could not be so remarkable without their co-operation and apparently limitless enthusiasm. After three consecutive days of 7am bus loads, someone remembers that a certain Estonian percussionist was last seen skinny dipping at sunrise, so his colleagues use their initiative to embark on a search party to retrieve him (happily he was found, although his trousers are yet to be recovered). A Slovenian horn player leaves his concert dress behind at a hotel, and is rescued by a benevolent but broad Belgian trombone player who can lend his suit and shoes during the pieces in which he does not play (even if they are twice his size). Admittedly, there was the one occasion when it was realised that a Latvian tuba player was last seen in the toilets at a service station 100km ago, as well as the unlucky incident of the horn section’s spirited practising setting off the alarms of a nearby bank, and the unfortunate timing of a local firework extravaganza coinciding with an outdoor chamber concert, but on such a long, expansive tour, it would be ridiculous to expect everything to run without a glitch.

Indeed, in my opinion, the orchestra’s solidarity during these moments of difficulty is what makes EUYO truly exceptional. I can’t pretend that I was the model intern either – attempting to garner half an hour’s sleep before my final 5.30am departure very nearly resulted in a missed flight home. I’d like to think that it wasn’t my own mistake, but rather karma telling me how much I’d miss the hustle and bustle of tour. When I got home, I slept for about a week, then woke up ready for another 7am departure with a bus full of sleepy musicians. At least they snore in tune.

larking about in interlaken

The final stop (sob sob) of the tour was sunny Interlaken, where we played at the beautiful Casino Kursaal, overlooking the Jungfrau mountains. My dad and I had an Easter breakfast at the splendid Hotel Victoria, and they even offered Zumba dance lessons for their guests - thank goodness noone in Switzerland is ever likely to see me and my hilarious attempts again...

The suitably sublime interiors of the Casino Kursaal

clooney in como

Or so I wished. I did ask the tour guide to point out his residence, but it was in a secluded area and so, alas, I never got to meet Mr. Clooney in person.

Nevertheless, we found plenty of other lovely things to do in Como, including a city tour, relaxing in our gorgeous hotel, and eating more cannoli, of course.

Gosia and me outside our picturesque hotel

st moritz glitz

The next stop on tour with the EUYO was stunning St Moritz, where we stayed in the fabulous Alpine Rock hotel. We enjoyed sensational mountain views whilst eating bircher muesli for breakfast, went on a walk to a breathtaking waterfall and even chanced a dip in the freezing cold lake... Whilst there we held a charity concert which raised a staggering 22,556.05 Swiss Francs for Swiss Solidarity's Japan appeal, helping victims of the recent tsunami.

Not such a bad balcony view...

Me with a chef and waiter from the Alpine Rock

oh hello bergamo

Yet ANOTHER stunning Italian city. Apparently Bergamo is where the savvy Milanese go for the weekend - less touristy but just as gorgeous.

The food here is sensational - huge portions of melon with parma ham, slices from giant pizzas with every topping imaginable, Grom ice cream (divine), dinky pastries from cute bakeries hidden down tiny cobbled alleyways, and a lovely dinner at Le Iris.



magnificent milan

Next stop was gorgeous Milan, where we visited spectacular shops selling opulent jewelled gloves and masks and marvelled at all the beautiful people tottering down the boutique-lined streets in their stiletto heels.

The Duomo - I could quite happily get married here...

I discovered an beautiful pasticceria called Bastianello where white and gold-clad waiters served pretty cakes , ice creams and pastries, all decorated to perfection. The Easter eggs were works of art - almost (but not quite) too gorgeous to eat.

Amarena in Ravenna

After a non-stop week we had a few days' despite in glorious Ravenna.

Beautiful sunset as we arrived on the coach

The sunshine was perfect weather for wandering around the gorgeous mosaics, doing window shopping, visiting Dante's tomb, relaxing on the beach, and drinking Spritzes whilst people-watching in pavement cafés.

 My dream dress

 Dante's tomb

 

Concert at Teatro Alighieri

 Stunning mosaics

Cartwheeling on the beach

We ate gelato (the Amarena, Cannella and Fico flavours were to die for), melt-in-the-mouth scallops and handmade cannoli from cute bakeries, and enjoyed a fabulous staff dinner of cheese souffle with candied figs followed by John Dory with a flaked almond crust with sweet and sour orange sauce )washed down with plenty of vino bianco, of course).

Gorgeous hairstyle courtesy of my lovely Dutch friend Tessel

If only every meal ended with handmade fig ice cream from a gelateria...

Banská Bystrica and beyond

Leaving Poland at the crack of dawn, four coachloads of musicians and instruments embarked on an epic voyage spanning seven countries in five days, with three concerts thrown in for good measure.

First stop was beautiful Banská Bystrica, where we stopped for one night...

...before heading off to Budapest to play the closing concert of the Budapest Spring Festival in the amazing National Concert Hall.

Next stop Belgrade, stopping for lunch on the way at a dubious-sounding 'tourist farm' that turned out to be absolutely gorgeous. Strangely enough, it reminded me of quaint English tearooms.

Our concert in Belgrade was in a huge complex filled with shops selling ridiculously expensive handbags, shoes and dresses. We can but dream.

From there we went to Zagreb and enjoyed a brief tour around the city the morning after our concert, walking past market stands selling gorgeous flowers and fruits and marvelling at the beautiful architecture.

On our way to Ravenna we stopped for lunch in beautiful Slovenian surroundings.

If only the same could be said for the hearty fare on offer, which was slightly less pleasing to the eye (and stomach...):

Fortunately our next stop was Ravenna, where the copious pizza, pasta, wine and gelato more than made up for the slightly less inspiring culinary delights proffered by the Balkan states!