Twenty Years Later

My husband and I traveled to Europe for the very first time in 1998.  It was the first time either of us had left the North American continent and the first of many big adventures in our 31 years of marriage.  A travel agent helped us assemble an itinerary because we really had no idea where we wanted to go, other than to Oktoberfest in Munich.  With the exception of Berlin, the itinerary matches the trip I’m getting ready to take with my community college choir.

Thirty five members of my choir are going to Munich, Salzburg, Vienna, and Prague to sing.  The main event is a Mozart Choral Festival in Salzburg, a performance with 100+ other choral singers from the United States, of Mozart’s Coronation Mass, sung in the cathedral in which he was baptized.  Our small choir will perform in 5 other locations throughout our stay, including St. Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna and St. Nicholas Church in Prague.

Much has changed since that 1998 trip with my husband.  The Berlin Wall had “fallen” only 10 years prior to our visit, a small amount of time compared to its 28 year history.  East and West still felt like what I imagined East and West to feel like, distinctively different from one another.  Germany was preparing to move its capital to Berlin; construction cranes populated the horizon.  The enthusiasm and energy of the people in Prague, eager to engage in the world, eager to speak English, was prevalent.  Only 10 years had passed since the Velvet Revolution, since the people took to the streets and non-violently created change, forcing the communist government to resign.  Four years after our visit these three countries became part of the EU.  Americans were dealing with President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky; the House was getting ready to impeach.

There were no cell phones in 1998 and no social media.  Only calling cards and landline phones to call home.  Postcards instead Instagram and Facebook.  Rolls of film and  waiting for your film to be developed weeks after your return, instead of immediate feedback and one small disk containing thousands of photographs.  Tripods or asking strangers to take your photo instead of selfies.

That trip also had a music focus, though not at the outset.  A few days into our trip we discovered that classical music was everywhere and at all times of the day.  After attending a magical string quartet performance in a Rococco style space in East Berlin we wanted more.  And really, how could we visit the birthplace and residence of some of the world’s finest classical composers and not immerse ourself in the music?  From formal concert halls like my local performing arts center to war torn churches.  Our only requirement was to experience variety of venue and orchestration.  In Vienna my girlfriend and I even ventured out without our men, bravely taking public transportation to see The Marriage of Figaro at the state opera house.

My scrapbook contains photos and postcards of many of the churches I visited on that trip, many of which I will be performing in on this upcoming trip.  I noted an experience in Vienna, where, left with some time to myself I ventured out to St. Stephen’s Cathedral.  Organ music beckoned me.  I slipped inside and sat in the back to listen, no hurry to be anywhere.

Will these places look and feel the same 20 years later?  Will they still feel……..hopeful?  Like there’s a bright shiny future ahead?  Or will they feel a little rough around the edges, the newness having worn off, replaced by reality.  How will I, an American now under a divisive and uncivil President, be viewed?  How wonderfully strange it will be to visit these churches again, not just to admire, but to engage.  This time I will be the one making the music.  Making a memory not just for myself, but for some other tourist (or local) to carry home with them.  Like someone else did for me 20 years ago.