A Note from the Author

Hello- Thanks for checking out Ruminations from the Road.

PLEASE SCROLL ALL THE WAY TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS LONG PAGE AND START READING WITH THE FIRST ENTRY: "Monday, February 6th: Grupo Yanqui Tour: February 2006: Sweden". Then work your way backwards to here. The narrative will make a lot more sense that way.

These are my personal reflections about my experiences on this trip. I hope you will find these observations entertaining or interesting and perhaps even thought-provoking. I apologize in advance if you find anything offensive, but I tried to be as honest and expressive in the moment of writing as I could. The entries are a snapshot of my thoughts when I composed them- in the spirit of a jazz improvisation they have not been significantly edited, rather presented as felt.

Perhaps I will add a postscript once I have had more time to fullly absorb and contemplate my experiences. Feel free to check back again soon. Also, don't hesitate to tell me what you think. You can email me at bennett@bennettpaster.com

Thanks for your interest and your time.

Bennett Paster
www.bennettpaster.com

Closing Words

It’s always bittersweet when a tour ends. It’s sad to face the fact that I don’t get to visit more exciting places and play our music for new, interesting people. But, writing in this blog for the first time from my desk, in Brooklyn NY (with my kitty on my lap, no less) it sure feels good to be home. It’s important for one period in life to end so that we can reflect on the experiences and learn from them and so that another, new phase can begin. I am delighted to be reunited with my wife and cat and I’m looking forward to returning to my funky organ trio, Organic! I also have several recording projects in mind for the spring, including a long-overdue new Grupo Yanqui project. Plus, before I know it, the daffodils will rear their little heads through the crusty ground and spring will again arrive in scenic Brooklyn.

*****
To the very end Jim, our trumpet player, remained stoic, annoyed and bitter, with those emotions largely directed at me.
When we parted ways at Newark Airport on 2/24, I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from my soul. I was still angry with him, probably my natural defense to his bad vibe. But (other than venting a bit in this blog) I’ve decided to let it go. Life’s too short to carry around excess unhappiness.

*****
I remain thankful to the US Department of State and to Jazz at Lincoln Center and to the Kennedy Center (who administered this program when we auditioned). The opportunity to have experienced four distinctly different cultures firsthand is one I will long cherish. We made some new friends and contacts that I hope will allow us to return to these places again to perform and visit. Learning about how other people live also gave me a new appreciation for American culture. Although I’ve been known to criticize culture and politics in this country, I was never so happy to return to it as I am now. I guess I’m a product of my culture more than I realize. I am grateful for our freedom, diversity and prosperity; this trip broadened my realization of this in many unexpected ways.

Musically speaking, Grupo Yanqui grew a great deal during our month on the road. As our comfort level with the music increased with each performance, our approach became more open, less strict. We began to approach the original songs, many with specific, involved forms, as open and flexible. By the end, we started to own the music, to play it with less thought and more feeling. Though I don’t feel that our trumpet player ever truly cared about my music, he certainly improved as he learned it. We did the best we could under the annoying circumstances to play as a band, not just as four guys who are competent professionals. I will always wonder what the tour could’ve been like if our original trumpet player could’ve made it (we missed you, Alex). But, in the end, I was delighted to be playing artistic music with my close friends, whom I love respect as people and as musicians. I hope we will get another opportunity to do it again soon. This trip re-inspired to work towards those ends.

Thanks to Sandy and all the people from the US State Department.
Thanks to Monak, Mike and Chris from Jazz at Lincoln Center.
Thanks to all of our program officers from the US embassies in Sweden, Russia, Estonia and Serbia: Ann-Charolotte, Chris & Liz, Masha, Jim K, Julia, Vlada, Maris, Eric, John J, Jelena, Dragan and Stevo.

Grupo Yanqui really appreciates your work and the love you all put into making this tour a reality. We’ll hope to see you all again, hopefully when it’s a bit warmer.

Belgrade is Back

Our final gig in Serbia was back where we first arrived, in Belgrade. Belgrade is a city of around 2 million people in the middle of Serbia, a ways past where the mountains and hills of the South end and the flats of the North begin. (That’s how it seemed to me, anyway.) It’s a bustling, busy, almost modern metropolis. Serbia is struggling to join modern Europe and the EU and their culture, particularly in Belgrade, shows that these efforts are progressing. The city is full of beautiful historic buildings and modern shopping boutiques, starkly contrasted with both Soviet-era boxes and bombed out shells from their recent war. I was told that they have chosen to leave the bombed buildings as a reminder to their people about what NATO did to them. No doubt the people do remember, but perhaps they will also think of the atrocities and ruin that Milosevic wrought on his own country.

I got to wondering how people in Serbia feel about NATO in general and the US more specifically. One could argue that NATO bombed Serbia for their own good, in order to protect its citizens from Milosevic's racist wrath. One point of view I heard was that most Serbians blame the US, not NATO for the bombings, though I suspect most are happier in post-Milosevic, democratic Serbia. (We did see more than a few instances of pro-Milosevic grafitti, both in Belgrade and out in the countryside, but I don't know what percentage of the population still feels sympathetic to his cause, in spite of the racist tendencies I saw in a few individuals several nights before.) In any case, most Serbs we met personally welcomed us warmly as people and as Americans, with no prejudice about the actions of our government. It’s a complex country with a painful and confusing (to me) history, but they seem to be on the road to modernization and healing.

We performed at the Dramatic Theatre, a recently renovated, comfortable, modern hall that holds about 350. In spite of the official diplomatic reception, the hall was still not totally full, but the audience was appreciative.

For us, it was to be our last gig as this quartet version of Grupo Yanqui. We were tired from the travel and as the tour’s end was rapidly encroaching, we summoned one final time the energy necessary to play this involved music. The concert was, as usual, a good time, though I found myself sometimes mildly distracted, wondering when I’d get to play these particular songs for such large, appreciative audiences again.

Novi Pazar, the New Bazaar (Bizzare?)

The next morning, we drove further South and West in to the mountains to the predominantly Muslim town of Novi Pazar. Compared to Krusevac, this town of 90,000, nestled in the mountains, seemed depressed, more bleak. Again we arrived at our hotel, another 4-star gem totally out of place in amidst the small streets and closely knit houses of the city. From my hotel room (as I wrote a previous installment of this blog) I could here the sounds of a Muslim call to prayer, a beautiful, plaintive singing accompanied by some wind instrument I couldn't dentify. It was a beautiful, organic sound which made me feel more foreign, though not in a bad way, in an already foreign place.

We arrived at the Novi Pazar Cultural Center at loaded our gear into a bleak, Soviet Era auditorium with cracked seats, concrete and tile walls and a drab, beaten-up grey stage. Backstage were vestiges of musicals and plays past- old battered props and sets, piles of spare lumber and scrap metal and some old speakers and such. It was definitely the bleakest place we'd been to on this whole tour, far more so than even the towns in Russia. The "soundman" shoed up 45 minutes late and it was instantly clear to me that he had no idea how to set up his gear. With his permission, I ended up re-wiring the entire system and with the help of John, one of our program officers, we soundchecked the band. The "soundman" sat watching and never touched a know or fader for the rest of the evening.



The show was only about two thirds full, perhaps 200 people, mostly children and teens. Again they seemed to enjoy the show, though the music was very new to them. The hall was quite cold- we started playing and it took 3 songs for me to feel totally warmed up (usually it takes one). The band rose to to the difficulty and drabness of the occasion- after the show Jim even remarked (I think for the first time on the tour) that it had been a fun show. Indeed, it had been. Perhaps our casual approach to the the situation made us feel more loose and less concerned and that allowed us to have more fun. Who knows- anyway the Novi Pazar prom (as I called it) was a decent time and we were headed back to Belgrade the next morning for the last performance of the tour. No one seemed too disappointed about that...

On the way back to Belgrade we stopped for a meaty lunch, investigated a beautiful, peaceful old monastery and put a nail through one of the van tires. (Good thing our bullet-proof van had a bullet-proof spare.) All in all, a suitable adventure for our 5 hour drive to Serbia's capital.

Krusevac, Kulture and the Difficulties of the Road

Our first gig was in Krusevac, a city of 100,000 about a half hour drive from Vrnjacka Banja. There was apparently no hotel nice enough for us in the entire city, that's why we stayed in Vrnjacka Banja. Hmmm- the town looked more modern and maintained than the Russian cities of a million where we had been the week before. After another 2.5 hour meat & beer lunch, we retired to the Krusevac National Theatre for soundcheck and the gig. The lobby was a smoke-den. Ugggh. To my surprise, the good pianos with which I had been graced during the rest of the tour, came to an abrupt end. I was pleased that they had a Russian made Petrof upright that was mostly in tune. I caddy-cornered my electric keyboard up to the Petrof and got ready for to dig in.

All three of our concerts in Serbia were offered to the public free of charge. The embassy here printed some attractive posters and programs and paid for radio and TV advertising. This one was similarly well attended to our Russia shows, nearly sold out, about 350 people. They seemed to enjoy the music, though again, I got the feeling that Latin jazz was new to them. We played one long set and an encore.

Getting the opportunity to play our original music for 3 1/2 weeks straight is one of the most amazing experiences I've ever been blessed to have. The band has grown together and the music has come to life in ways it never did when we only played once a month (or less) in New York. But, the trumpet player we intended to take with us (and with whom we auditioned for this tour almost 2 years ago) was unable to come. The nice people at the State Department were gracious enough to let us find a substitute, which was at their discretion. We wanted to bring one of several other musicians who had played our music with us before, but the none of them played trumpet. The State Dept. implored (forced) us to get a trumpet player. The replacement we chose was someone I barely knew, but who came both at the recommendation of Greg, my co-leader, and Alex, our original trumpeter. Jim seemed like a nice guy and I knew him to be a great musician. I learned the hard way never to spent a month on the road with someone you don't really know if you don't have to.

To make a long story short and in the interest of not being harsh, Jim didn't seem too interested in playing our music and he was rarely interested in hanging out with us during our free time. Keith, Greg and I are all close friends- we have played together for several years, we've traveled and recorded together. Personally and musically we have a great vibe. I certainly didn't expect Jim to just become part of our scene, but it took me awhile to realize and accept that he just wasn't excited to be with or play with us on this tour. I feel that had Alex, our original trumpet player, been able to make it, this tour would've been even a deeper musical experience than it was. It was difficult for me to be around sombody who seemed so unhappy so often, especially when I was so excited to have this opportuninies that this tour presented at all. Thanks to the support and positive attitudes of Greg and Keith, I made the best of it.

This particular evening in Krusevac was one of the hard ones. I went out on stage wondering whether Jim wanted to be there or not. As usual, the music went fine, but the long term effects of the difficult personal relations had worn us all down. Spending 3 weeks with the same 3 guys, I suspect, is never an easy experience. We all missed our wives and loved ones and tensions were growing amongst us all. But I pride myself in trying not to take my emotions out on other people; instead I try to find a way to make the most of every situation. It was getting harder...

After the gig our hosts from the venue took us to dinner. Yup- meat and salad again. And smoke. And liquor, this time. Shots of traditional quince brandy were served in small vase-shaped vessels (like you'd use to hold a single rose). Everyone (except me) had a shot to start. Then more brandy shots were poured. Jim and a guy next me kept on going through about 9 or 10 shots each, long after the rest of us had stopped. Meanwhile, the ubiquitous salad and meat courses were served. We were already stuffed to the gills from lunch, but it was rude not to eat, so eat we did. Meanwhile, discussion around me turned from the fun to sarcastic. Jim and his drinking buddy were bonding about the joys of Serb lifestyle. And since I wasn't drinking and had finished eating, they decided to poke fun at me, calling me "delicate flower" (which I've been called before). I've never been a drinker and I'm comfortable with my choice- my body tells itself what it likes and I heed it. Their hassling escalated until they were putting food on my plate and encouraging me to drink. The two of them were soused, so I just tried to hang tough and let their affronts bead off, though it was difficult. Things took a turn for the worse when the Serb next to me decided that, after tolerating his abuses, I was "ok with him" and repeated called me "his ni%%er." At first I couldn't believe what he had said, then he said it a few more times. He justified his behavior by telling me he had only heard the word on TV and that in Serbia there were no black people anyway, so it was cool. I couldn't help but think that this kind of behavior and generally drunken, unenlightened thinking had only contributed to the racism that had fueled their civil war. Although another Serb who was at the table later apologized to me for his friends behavior, insisting that his soused friend and, furthermore, his culture as a whole, were really not racist. Instead that their govenrment dragged into a situation beyond their control- no one in Krusevac hated the Bosnians or Albanians, not really hated them, anyway. Most of these guys had actually fought in the war, so I suspect their perspective was totally different than the one my sheltered American lifestyle gave me. Anyway, I was just glad to leave the restaurant after another smoky, surreally out two hours.

Serbia, Baby!

I don't think anyone in Grupo Yanqui had any idea what to expect from Serbia. None of us had ever been here before. Other than the stories I saw on the news about the civil war here, I didn't know much about the region or it's history. Now that we've been here for a few days, I am beginning to understand a culture that's been ravaged by war, but that is attempting to deal with it's issues so that it can join modern Europe. Until a few more of the important war criminals are captured, the EU won't let them even apply for membership. I've been told that in terms of infrastructure, they are not far behind Croatia, who is will be admitted to the EU around 2007 or 8. My few experiences here have revealed a warm, outgoing people who are welcoming of us, but in some cases still caught up in the traps of the racial and religious prejudice that's defined their recent (and probably much more ancient) history.

We arrived in Belgrade airport and set out, by van for Vrnjacka Banja, a spa town 3 hours south. Our van, to be more precise, was the US Embassy's passenger van, a fully armored, bulletproof Chevy. We were told that the armor was not necessary (and not to be alarmed), but that it was the only one the had big enough to hold the 7 of us (4 band members, 2 program officers and a driver). In a country full of tiny Yugos and Vladas a full-sized American van is an unusual sight indeed. As we began our drive, John, one of out program managers asked if any of us had a iPod that we wanted to plug in to the van's stereo. (3 of us did...) Somehow, though we were a million miles away, we felt right at home listening to jazz and blues as we drove through the Serbian countryside.

My first reaction is that the landscape looks a bit like New Mexico, where I grew up- broad valleys spotted with small houses, with mountains way off in the distance. You'd certainly never confuse this Balkan country with the desert Southwest, but with the trees bare, it certainly looked more like the earth I'm used to than snowy Russia did. We were also thankful to have a much-needed respite from the cold weather that cursed the rest of our tour. It was over 60 and sunny and boy were we glad!

We arrived in Vrnjacka Banja around 4pm, hungry and tired from another 12 hour travel day. Our program officers decided that we should have a crash course in Serbian food (which seems to be about all you can get outside of Belgrade). The Serbs like their meat- we were served a family-style feast first with some chopped salads of tomato, cucumber and onion topped with grated feta cheese and huge plates of sour cabbage with paprika (a healthy start, to be sure), but then two huge platters of grilled meat garnished with french fries appeared. Cevape, meatballs made of beef and pork are the local specialty, but the platter also contained various other sausages, veal, pork and chicken (wrapped in bacon). So much for our light lunch... Thank goodness we didn't have to play a gig this night; 4 hours of sleep, 12 hours of travel and a pound of meat per person virtually assured an early evening nap (before dinner!). Plus, the local beer was flowing freely and los Yanquitos were quick to oblige. And to top off the healthy experience, Serbians smoke like chimneys. The restaurant was full of smoke and I could tell there was no way I was going to escape it. Wow. Welcome to Serbia. (DInner was around $10/person, which we soon learned was a standard outside of Belgrade.)

After a nap, we retreated to dinner, which though no one seemed too hungry for, transpired in a very similar way to lunch. (Except that it was about 10 times more smoky.) They certainly like to live well, if hard, here. These mealtime experiences, usually at least two hours long, repeated themselves every day we were out of Belgrade.

The town of Vrnjacka Banja was a noted improvement from the little houses we saw along the road on the drive up. It is a local resort town centered on a series of springs, both cold and hot. The town had a little downtown area with an outdoor market, lined with shops. The houses were well maintained and it looked like it would be a comfortable place to spend the weekend. Our hotel was a 4-star modern (mafia financed) Italian-tiled miracle, surrounded by Soviet-era hotels and apartment buildings. It didn't really make sense to me why this fancy, boutique hotel was here at all and the $70/night price tag certainly seemed like a bargain.

Rakvere and KUMU

After a relaxing and I hope well-earned day off in Old Tallinn, during which time we did some more sightseeing, shopping and eating, Grupo Yanqui geared up for another busy day of teaching and performing. We taught two separate afternoon masterclasses, one at the Estonian Music Academy for music business students and then another for a group of jazz students at the Georg Ots Music School. Again, we were pleasantly surprised by both the interest and ability of the jazz students in a place so far from the US. Interestingly, when we asked the students about what CDs they were listening to and learning from, they mostly cited contemporary European artists. Only a handful were listening to a lot of American jazz and even then it was mostly newer artists. We had an enjoyable afternoon working with them on the fundamentals of swing and time. They really seemed to appreciate that we had come all the way to Tallinn to share our experience with them. It felt good!

That evening we shuttled about 100km away to Rakvere, a small town in the Estonian countryside. We played a fun gig at the cafe at their local theater, which true to form was a beautiful, modern building with first-rate facilities. Although our 120v American gear seemed hell-bent on making the European 240v gear nearly blow up every time we plugged in, the gig went well once we set up.

Our final gig in Estonia was at KUMU, their brand-spanking new modern art museum in Tallinn. After years of planning and construction, this organic, modern building designed by a Finnish architect, was opening it's doors for the first time the day before our gig. We were told that it was perhaps the most important cultural arts event in Estonia in a decade and we were to be the first band to perform in the their new 250 seat auditorium. I was to be the first pianist to perform on their new 9' Estonia concert grand piano. The building itself was simply breathtaking- one side had a crescent facade, the other side was a straight line connecting the points of the crescent. The middle had a tower that went 5 stories with the surrounding sides being a tall 2 stories. It's hard to describe in words, but inside and out the modern building was appealing while unpredictable. Although we had scant little time to enjoy the museum after our sound check (the sound engineer didn't speak English, so it was a frustrating experience), I took a quick jaunt through the 2nd floor galleries. In about 20 medium-small rooms a survey of Estonian art from the 17th century to the present unfolded in chronological order. I blasted through the early portraits and religious paintings and only slowed down once I reached to 20th century area. There were paintings all clearly influenced by the major movements of 20th century art- impressionism (yeah-it's 19c I know), cubism, abstract expressionism, etc, but they were extremely well done. I wish I could've had the time to explore what made them uniquely Estonian, but I did feel quite drawn to many of them. I also loved the idea that a young Estonian (or anyone, for that matter) could, in an hour or two, take a quick trip through their country's art history and get a survey of western art at the same time, all on one floor! Given more time, I certainly would've lingered in the chambers of this amazing building, but alas we had to play.


The gig was quite fun- I was feeling particularly relaxed- but as I feared, the brand new Estonia piano was drifting out of tune by the end of the first song. New pianos need to be broken in and tuned many times before they come to life and hold a tuning. This one may well be a nice piano in a year or two, but for our concert it was a nice-feeling, shiny clunker. Oh well- you can't win them all. (Serbia wouldn't have any grand pianos at all as it would turn out, so I guess I should stop my whining.)

*****
On the plane from Tallinn to Prague (transferring to Belgrade) I got into a particularly interesting discussion with an Estonian man who provided some additional insight into Estonian culture and consciousness. We were talking about the differences between his coming from a small country (1.5 million) where the population is significantly racially and culturally homogeneous, compared my coming from the huge and diverse melting pot of America (or Russia's behemoth culture). His people are fiercely proud of having withstood Soviet occupation and thankful of America having stood by them. (Estonia kept an autonomous embassy in the US, even during Soviet occupation, which we recognized!) We agreed that smaller countries were having better luck joining the modern economic world than say Russia. Estonia is well able to provide for it's people, though taxes are quite high, at least the standard of living is also high. People there seem to trust their government and have faith that it is truly working for their own good (again, in marked contrast to Russia). When I told him that I appreciated how nice it must be for people to live in a country where they have been for so many hundreds or thousands of years and how their history makes our look like a short story, he responded that the phenomenon of American diversity made for a healthier culture as a whole. In spite of our diversity, we do manage to mostly get along. Our conflicts seem petty in comparison to the civil wars and ethnic cleansing that has transpired in the Balkans and Africa. I wondered what the Western hemisphere might've been like of Europeans had never colonized it and the native peoples of the Americas had grown into different countries and states. Imagine the diversity of languages the world will never know- but also imagine no jazz, blues, funk and salsa. The Native Americans certainly got the short end of the stick, but at least in some ways the American cultural experience provides a healthy model for parts of the world still struggling with how people from specific cultural identities can manage to get along. More on this in Serbia...

This gentlemen had an interesting perspective on the Iraq war and our despicable president. Perhaps I just assumed that the whole world would find the Iraq war as misguided as I do. His take on it, which I think is a healthy one, was first, to be loyal to America for her seep friendship to Estonia. Though he didn't personally agree with the reasons for the war, he considered it not really his war and not his problem. Being our problem, he figured there was no point to take too strong an opinion of it. He certainly didn't hold the war against the American people. It seemed a educated detachment from the situation that allowed him to maintain his relationship with Americans and America, yet still not support the war. Interesting. Not everyone hates us and thinks we're ridiculous.

I know, in any case, I'll be glad to return home. American culture may have some very serious problems, but it's my culture and I do appreciate it now in some ways I didn't before this tour.

Old Tallinn

Tallinn, Estonia has, as it's heart, a remarkably well-preserved Medieval old town, surrounded by a large stone wall. Some 20 towers still remain of the more than twice that many that were originally part of the town's fortification. The old town is charming, a series of curving, narrow streets all flaked by 3 or 4 story buildings. By day, the streets are lined with galleries, shops, cafes and restaurants, but somehow, the place has kept a true charm and authenticity about. It doesn't have that that cheesy tourist town vibe that so many similar places I've been to in the world seem to have. At night, when the stores all close and the lights are orange, I had no trouble imagining what a Medieval town might really have felt like. We're going today for lunch to a Medieval style restaurant (though I think they provide silverware, if you want it)- I'll update more in a future post.

We enjoyed walking the streets, exploring the shops, shopping for amber, handicrafts and art, sipping cappucinos, (or guzzling beer) and exploring some of the old towns churches, many as old os the 1200s. In the Summer, Tallinn is overrun with tourists from Scandanavia and throughout Europe, both on account of it's rustic charm and the fact the the Euro/Dollar are both still quite strong here. The newer part of town has casinos, nightclubs, malls, modern office towers. In short, for a city of 400,000 people, there is a healthy balance of old and new in a way where they two seem at peace with one another rather than at odds.



The people here have a similarly reserved friendliness to those we met in Sweden. In general they seem quiet at first, but not in a way that turns one off. Once we start to have a conversation with people, they start to open up and seem to enjoy talking. Again, this mellowness strikes as a marked contrast from the spunkiness of the Russians, but we are having an easier time here as most people speak English. I would certainly love to return to Tallinn with my beloved wife in the Spring or Summer to enjoy the romantic charm of this ancient, yet modern place. For now my Yanquitos will have to do...

Rocking the Van Krahl

We knew the second we set foot in the Tallinn, Estonia airport that we were in a very different, totally modern culture. We walked right up to Passport Control with no line, got our luggage in about 2 minutes, then waltzed through Customs with nary a hint of paperwork. Our new program officers, Maris and Eric met us immediately upon exiting customs and took us in a spacious, modern van to our 4 star Raddison Hotel with free high-speed wireless internet and a huge breakfast buffet. It was good to be out of Russia.

Although we had left Ufa at 5 AM (which was 2 AM Estonia time) with only 3 or 4 hours of sleep and travelled nearly 11 hours, we had our first gig that same night at a club in Old Tallin. After about 45 minutes at the hotel we left for soundcheck, frazzled and tired.

When we arrived at the Van Krahl Theatre in old Tallinn, we were pleasantly surprised to discover that we were playing it it's adjoining club. The space was cool- a wide room done in wood with a wooden balcony and a low, small stage with a fairly large PA system. After 4 formal sit-down concerts in Russia a nice, low-pressure club gig seemed just what the Dr. ordered.


After a delicious and filling traditional Estonian dinner (pork baked with a cheese crust, sauerkraut, beet salad and roasted potatoes, plus pancakes with honey for desert) at "Grandma's Place" we returned to the club, barely awake enough to actually play music. Fortunately, the club was full of young, eager Estonians, mostly older teens and college students. The beer was flowing and the lights were low. After a brief introduction by Anne Ern, the main jazz promoter in Estonia, Grupo Yanqui took the stage and essentially, rocked out. For the first time on the tour, I was forced to use my electric piano as no acoustic was available, so the music took on a more 1970's funky style. The kids seemed to be loving our music! Compared to Russia where we were sequestered from the audience by a large stage in a large hall, at this gig, we had dancing, cute Estonian girls (and some guys, too, though they are somehow less memorable...) around the stage. People were swaying and shaking their respective things to the music; several times they even clapped in time during Greg's bass solos. Unbelievable! The energy of the people brought us to life and we managed to crank out a fun show.

Saratov, Samara, Ufa: Russia, Baby!

Our three performances in Saratov, Samara and Ufa were, in marked contrast to the means in which we got to them and the places we stayed, really wonderful experiences. Each of these three major cities was around a million people, though you'd hardly know it by the appearance of the buildings. To me, they felt smaller and much less modern that Albuquerque, where I grew up, which is around half the size of any of them. After arriving in each city we were shuttled to the local Philharmonic Hall to drop off our instruments and equipment. Each hall held around 500 people and they were all decent-sounding, historic venues, rich with details and fine finishing. They all had adjacent halls where people could congregate during intermission and several other entryways and public spaces, many of which had beautiful old wood floors, chandeliers and wall frescos. The backstage area was where the halls showed their signs of age. It was often freezing cold in our dressing room and even if the building had been renovated (as in Samara) the toilets were still 2nd-world hole-in-th-ground style. Toilet paper and soap were hard to come by in this part of Russia- we quickly learned never to leave home without it. Nonetheless, the halls were all charming and historic and it was a pleasure to play in them all.

Crazy as it sounds to write, we sold out all three concerts! There were usually people standing in the aisles or backstage or extra chairs set up too. It's still unbelievable to me that 500 people who have never heard of us or heard a note of our music would come out to hear us perform solely based on the knowledge that we were 4 Americans playing Latin jazz. Ticket prices were around 100 rubles ($3.50), which was a moderate investment for most. Sometimes in New York we have trouble getting 30 people to come hear us, even when we each invite hundreds. These are cities that see very few Americans ever, much less American artists coming to perform, so I reckon we were a bit of a novelty item. Two of the halls had beautiful concert grand pianos (the pride of the hall manager) and all had decent sound systems. All told, the performances went quite well, though we were tired and a bit demoralized in Samara, where we didn't even spend a night, simply arriving by train, performing, then returning to another train. That's no way to live.

The audience response was warm. It wasn't clear if people had ever heard this kind of music before, but they seemed to enjoy listening to it and they responded well to our energy and inventiveness. We regularly signed autographs for the younger fans after the concerts and we were even able to sell quite a few CDs, though we had to lower the price to around $5, as they couldn't afford any more.

Ufa was the city where we spent the most time and where I got the best feeling about what the city was really all about. Unlike the other two cities along the Volga, Ufa is quite a bit further East into Russia, like I said before, on the border of Siberia, just where Europe becomes Asia. Although in Russia, it's also in an autonomous region called Bashkortistan (sp?), historically inhabited by a more Asiatic, Islamic people called the Bashkirs. The city had a more modern feel and appearance than Saratov or Samara, though you didn't have to stray far from the city center to see similar wood houses that looked like they were right out of a little village. But they had a modern shopping mall and many new buildings. We didn't see any signs of Islam there, but the a portion of the population definitely look more Asian, less Russian or Tatar. They are fiercely proud of their independence from Russia- we saw the towns most famous landmark, a huge sculpture of the patriot who led the Bashkir Revolution. He stands on the highest point in town, overlooking a valley with a river, the freeway and train tracks. You can see this sculpture from miles away as you approach the city. The restaurants were better in Ufa than in the other two cities, though I must say I find Russian food a bit bland for my taste. I can only eat so much meat and cabbage...

We did several different performances in Ufa besides our big concert. We played a jam session where some of the local musicians came and joined us and sat in. Several of them played fairly well, one of them, a young alto saxophonist, played quite well, sounding a bit like a Russian Cannonball Adderley. These kids have surprisingly little access to jazz CDs and I was just amazed that they were able to learn the music at all. Actually, everywhere we've been, people love jazz and they are trying hard to learn to play it, however foreign it's roots may seem. We also did an amazing Valentines Day event for a group of school kids. The curtain behind the stage was decorated with giant hearts and at the end the kids got candy (Necco candy hearts with the usual hackneyed sentiments on them) and valentines addressed To: friend, From: U.S. Embassy. Nice touch- Be Mine, Condaleeza.



The best part about this event was that our performance was flanked by Bashkiri childrens groups, ranging from a brass quintet to accordion and vocals to a strange string ensemble with a family of guitar/lute like instruments like I've never seen. The kids were in colorfully decorated costumes with trimmed with sequin and many were clad in colorful wool hats with real fur trim (many included an animal's tail). They were, unquestionably, among the cutest things we'd ever seen. We took many pictures... We played a short set of American love songs, then after the event was over, the kids literally stormed the stage asking for our autographs. I felt like I was Shaun Cassidy or in some boy band. All I remember is being surrounded by little Russian hands all thrusting some scrap of paper, candy box, or ticket into my sight hoping for a scribble. It was a trip. I later envisioned the moment years later when these kid's mothers would make them clean out their desk drawers and they'd find the autographs and wonder who they were from, but I was assured by several locals that in all likelihood many would end up framed or otherwise cherished. Strange.



Another great thing about Ufa was they made a poster advertising the Valentines Day concert which featured our pictures superimposed inside a huge pink heart, with our band name in English, but everything else, including our names, in the cyrillic alphabet. You can bet that's going up on my wall when I get home!

All Aboard... the Russian Night Train

We left Moscow the morning after our performance at the Spaso House and headed South and East for a 3 city tour: Saratov and Samara along the Volga River and then further East to the border between Europe and Asia (and Siberia) to Ufa. When I saw the itinerary and located these 3 cities on a map of Russia, I assumed that we were going to fly between them as they are hundreds of Kilometers apart. No such luck- Masha, our program officer from the Moscow embassy, told us that in the WInter, Russian airplanes are often unreliable because of the weather. Delays can last for days, she said! We were to take the overnight trains from city to city, they always run, no matter what the weather and they are on time, to the minute!

I will certainly never forget the smell of our 3 overnight trips on Russian trains. Whoah- there's something sickeningly intoxicating about the polluted exhaust, mixed with the stale, pale odor of the cabins, which probably haven't gotten any fresh air since it was warm (perhaps in October). We spent 3 out of 4 nights on trains as we traveled from Moscow to Saratov (16 hours) where we spent one night at a hotel, then to Samara (12 hours) then to Ufa (9 hours). The cabins sleep 2 or 4, depending on class. For two of our trips we had first class cabins, which included a bland, if warm, dinner, for the other, there was no first class, so we folded the extra bunks up to enjoy room to actually sit upright. We were fortunate to have an extra half cabin (otherwise occupied by Masha) to store some of our luggage and instruments. In some ways, the trains are a stifling experience- they were either burning hot with no ventilation, or if your window had a leaky seal, the cabins could be quite cold. The air was stale, the sheets (which were actually clean; in second class we actually had to rent them) were sandpapery and the pillows were heavy and dense, with the odor that only years going back and forth between Siberia and Moscow can impart. Don't even get me started about the toilets... I couldn't actually see the tracks when I flushed, but let's just say that they locked the bathrooms during stops claiming we were in a "sanitary zone." Sanitary is the last word that I would use to describe these all metal cubicles.

On the bright side, I could actually stretch out and sleep on the bunks. They were exactly the right size for me. Good thing the Russians are a fairly large people... The bunks weren't too wide, so if I lay on my back I had to hold the hand on my out side arm with the one from my inside arm so my arm wouldn't fall. I wouldn't say any of the 3 nights we spent qualified as quality sleep, but I did manage to get some shut eye. In spite of the serious warnings, no one tried to break in and steal our gear or wallets. Once I adjusted to the lifestyle, it was actually a fairly relaxed way to travel. Plus, the four of us in the band and Masha could hang out together in one bunk and talk and enjoy a beer or snack. Compared to flying coach on the way from NYC to Stockholm, I'd have to say the Russian trains were in some ways more comfortable! However, if I never see the inside of another one again, that'd be cool too.

We flew back to Moscow from Ufa on a 1950's Aeroflot jet plane which was pretty banged up... It had huge round submarine windows and small old seats. We had also been warned about these planes. A friend of mine described flying them as among the scariest experiences of his life. I must say, the one we took wasn't anywhere near that bad, but when we transfered to the FinnAir flight from Moscow to Helsinki, I felt like I was back in the modern world for the first time in a week.

* * * * *



I must note that we became quite enamored of Masha, our program officer from the US Embassy. Without her, none of our trip to Russia would have been possible. She did much of the difficult logistical work arranging the concerts and transportation, then she accompanied (babied us, when necessary) on most of the trip, until we left Samara for Ufa. We quickly came to appreciate her dry, sarcastic Russian sense of humor and her no-nonsense, all-business approach to making sure we performed our duties in a timely and professional manner. She expected a lot from us (your Russian schedule is "ambitious," she said), yet she showed us respect and compassion as needed. She tirelessly translated for us, in both public and private settings (the latter of which made her quite self-concious) and she always went the extra mile to ensure we were happy and comfortable (in a Russian sort of way). Thanks a million, Masha! We never would've made it without you.

Live from Spaso House... It's Grupo Yanqui!

Our first performance in Russia was at the Spaso House, the residence of the American Ambassador in Moscow. The house was a small mansion (does that make sense?) hidden only a short way's off one of the major ring roads. The inside of the house was a strange mix of traditional Russian fancy residence, decorated with distinctly American furnishings and art. In our dressing room was am abstract modernist bust of JFK done in funnel-cake-like tubes of metal; next to it was older American paintings and colonial looking portraits. I was told that each Ambassador gets to choose furnishings from a central depository at the US State Dept and have them shipped over. The current ambassador, Bill Burns, has only recently taken residence in Moscow and apparently, his furniture and art had not yet arrived.

The concert was in a gorgeous ballroom, flanked with windows on each side. There was no stage, we set up at floor level and we were surrounded by about 300 seats. We were told to expect a performance for about 40 people, so this came as a bit of a surprise to us, though as it turned out, a pleasant one. The Embassy and the Ambassador sent out formal printed invitations to local dignitaries, friends, artists and generally important people to join in an evening of music, food and cocktails. The house was packed and people seemed to be having a splendid time hob-nobbing and conversing before we started.

The 9 foot American Steinway at Spaso House was a wonderful piano and it set the tone of the evening (at least for me) as fun and exciting! The band played energetically and we were quite well received. After a 45 minute set of our more "friendly" (easier-listening) music, we obliged the crowd with an encore, a much more dissonant, energetic piece. The crowd was delighted, as were we as we expected this show to be more of a formality than a full-fledged concert. Afterwards, several Russians came up to me to offer their opinions of the evening. One memorable conversation (held with the help of an interpreter) featured an older gentleman asking me why we had saved the more energetic songs for last. I told him that we weren't sure that the audience would be music fans, so we wanted to play some of our more melodic tunes first to try to engage them and get their interest, then we would take them with us on a journey. He insisted that we should pay our audience no attention and just do whatever we wanted- preferably play loud and hard and fast. Hmmm, so perhaps this is what the Russians like, I thought? I did assure him that we played only music we loved, including the softer, more melodic numbers, but he seemed skeptical that this was really true. We truly like to perform dynamic music and we often program out set-lists to contain many different moods and styles. Nonetheless, we got an insight into what turned out to be a common Russian aesthetic- as we like to say "Kids (or Russians) like Rock."

Among other guests, I had a short chat with the head of the Communist Party (where was my camera when I needed it) and some representatives of the US, South Korean and Danish embassies. All told it was a fun evening of music and conversation. We felt glad to have been an excuse for the US embassy to invite so many interesting (and presumably important) people together to one place. This unification of styles is at the root of Grupo Yanqui's music and it seemed appropriate that we could be a part of a larger social scene that also brought people from different cultures together.

Touring the Kremlin

On our first full day in Moscow we had the luxury of a half day to sight-see. The embassy arranged a complimentary trip to the Kremlin's museums and churches for us, which we gladly accepted. Though the bitter cold outside air snapped at us as we walked around the grounds, I was struck by the how centuries of governments, monarchies, socialist, communist and now democratic all functioned with this "little town" area as their center. A trip to the Armory museum and two of the churches confirmed the richness and diversity of Russian history. Strangely absent was any exhibit or mention of the Socialist and Communist periods. Perhaps they are considered too recent history to merit inclusion in these museums, or perhaps it was a conscious decision by the current government, an attempt to begin to forget a painful period. We had only a half-day- perhaps I just missed the modern history wing...

We stopped by Red Square on our way back to the hotel on the first day, then spent returned on our second day to fully explore this large plaza which turned out to be neither Red nor Square. In fact, it's a large rectangle, flanked by the Kremlin wall and one of it's many outstanding brick towers on one side, a giant mall on opposite long sides and St Basil's cathedral (the church with the unusual shaped towers that you think of as stereotypically Muscovite) and another large brick building (?) on the short sides. Lenin's tomb, a modernist, Soviet looking flat building sits in the middle of the Kremlin wall and is omnipresent from throughout the square. (Red apparently comes from a Russian word for beautiful and in this case has nothing to do with the color we associate with Communism in the USA.) The inside and the outside of St Basil's was breathtaking, unlike any other building I've ever seen (though it bears a bit of a resemblance to the palace at Disneyland). The towers, in their very Russian shape, a bit like a soft-serve ice cream cone, shimmered golden in the low afternoon sun. The inside was hand painted with icons of the Russian orthodox church and it looked much more vivid than the other cathedrals we'd seen the day before in the Kremlin. Turns out the painting had been renovated and refurbished.

We also walked from our hotel down old Arbot St, a pedestrian shopping area with vendors and shops, then turned about and returned on new Arbot St, which was a broad modern avenue with electronics stores and other retail outlets. Also worth mentioning is the size of the major streets in Moscow- the ring roads that surround the city as well as it's large avenues are huge, perhaps 6 or 8 lanes in each direction, full of crazy traffic driving on roads with no perceptible lane lines.. It's hard to imagine who zoned these streets so long ago and what foresight they must've had to to make them so broad. Across these large streets are hung many banners advertising who-knows what- the constant colorful ads crossing such massive streets made for a sight like no other major city I can recall.

I'd certainly love to have had more time than two half-days to explore the sights of Moscow, but we did get a strong first impression about what the city feels like.

Moscow, home of the fur hat

We arrived in Moscow on Tue, Feb 7 at 5:20PM. What looked like a short line at passport control took over an hour. Uuugh. Once we got to the front of the line, all of us made it through except Greg who was detained and asked to wait at the desk with no explanation (at least not in English). He waited. And waited. Then he waited some more. Meanwhile, the other 3 of us were on the other side of the glass enclosure, unable to speak to him or communicate, other that we could see each other. Keith and I took turns waiting, keeping Greg within our eyesight constantly to ensure that he was not whisked away by Russian airport Police. Eventually, after about an hour there was a change in shift for the passport control workers, and Greg was eventually waved through with no further explanation about his detention. His opinion was that Russia was just "hazing" him- testing him to see if he had what it took to be in Russia.

Russians seem to be most accustomed to waiting patiently and to dealing with bureaucracy, perhaps it's another vestige of the Soviet era. The people behind us in line at passport control were three large Russian men. They insisted in standing extremely close to us in line, no matter how much we moved forward or how often Jim, our trumpet player (clad in a leather motorcycle jacket and cap and looking a bit tough) gave them dirty looks. They just seemed to encroach on us. Ah well, like I said comfort isn't everything.

Eventually we cleared customs, declaring all of our instruments and other electronic valuables so that we'll not have a problem taking them out of the country. (Hopefully.) When we got outside the restricted zone we looked for the "English-speaking driver" from the US Embassy who was assigned to retrieve us from the airport. We looked and looked. And looked. A "helpful" Russian man spotted us as Americans with a ridiculous amount of heavy luggage and offered us his services and his van to Moscow. I went to try to call the embassy, which was difficult as first I had to buy a phone card, then figure out how to use the phone card (all without a word of Russian). To make another long (probably boring) story short, I at last reached the embassy who told me that they had no record of any cars sent to Sheremetyevo airport to pick up anyone and that it would take them at least an hour to get us one, which they didn't even have... Great. Welcome to Russia.

After looking at our new "friend's" price list ($150 for a van to Moscow) I returned to the band, who was waiting with our luggage to suggest that we find another ride. Meanwhile, in a stroke of luck, our real driver actually showed up. Our assistant from the embassy, Maria (Masha) called on the driver's cell asking frantically about where we'd been and what had taken us so long. Oy. We stepped outside to the van and we were brutally assaulted by the bitter cold wind and air. It was around 0F and we were not ready for it. We piled into the van (where the heat didn't seem to work to well) and slumped into the seats, demoralized by our long day and slouched towards the National Hotel in Moscow.

Fortunately, upon arrival we discovered that our hotel was a 5-star Le Meridian. The large, comfortable rooms and a gourmet dinner, at a reasonable price, took the edge of the day off quite nicely. We crashed, wondering what the next day had in store for us in this strange land.

Russia, so much Russia (so much cold)

Crazy- it's already Februay 13th and I've not been able to post anything about our adventure in Russia. Since arriving here on the 7th, we've been to Moscow, Saratov, Samara and now, our final stop, Ufa. I'll try to start at the beginning, but at this point my feelings have changed as we've started to adapt to life in this very different culture.

In some ways Western Russia seems quite European, but in other ways this is one of the most foreign lands I've ever visited. The first major problem here is the language barrier. In Sweden virtually everyone spoke English; when they didn't, we could usually translate things by sound or sight well enough to survive, like on a menu, for instance. In Russia, the language is writen in the Cyrillic alphabet and virtually no one on the street or in a store speaks English. Just simple everyday activities here are difficult without the help of our guide from the consulate to translate.

Just listening to people speak to each other in Russian here was a shocking experience at first. The speak passionately, quite loudly; it almost sounds like they are arguing, even when they're just discussing something simple. Another other common scenario we've seen is where an employee or civil servant here was raised in the Soviet era- when we deal with them they are all business. It can be hard to get them to look at you, much less smile. Sometimes I've felt like they didn't even want to deal with me, though our guide assured us that that's just how they are and that everything's fine...

We arrived here a little bit psyched out by things we'd read in our guide books and things we'd been told by others about Russia- that it's dangerous, that we're likely to get our valuables stolen from our hotel room , that police like to shake-down Westerners and take their passports or bribe them. As it turns out, we've had no problem with any of these things. It actually seems quite secure here. Frankly, we realized that we live in NYC where we're used to these kinds of things (and where they rarely happen). I'll bet Russian guidebooks warn travelers here the same things about the US and I suspect that Russians would feel as foreign in our country as we do here.

Grupo Yanqui Tour: February 2006: Sweden

I'm your humble host, pianist Bennett Paster here. My Latin jazz band Grupo Yanqui is on a tour sponsored by the US State Dept and administered by Jazz at Lincoln Center. We've been sent over to some remote and not-so-remote parts of Europe to spread goodwill and further the diplomatic aims of the US Dept. Of State. (Condie- wanna come to Russia- it's gonna be 10 below tomorrow...) I'll be posting my thoughts and stories from the tour as they seem relevant or interesting.

Hello from Snowy Stockholm, Sweden!

We've actually been here since the morning of 2/2/06. The flight from Newark, NJ was eventless, though I had to sit next a large Swedish man in a standard domestic sized airplane. Neither of us would've fit terribly comfortably into our seats even if the adjoining seat had been empty. We played kneesie the whole way over as we tried to find somewhere to park our legs. I thought the airlines used larger, nicer planes for transatlantic voyages. I guess not. When I asked the stewardess she mumbled something about it being more profitable this way. With fuel prices skyrocketing, the airlines'll be lucky to be able to afford to fly any routes soon. That or ticket prices will skyrocket. But I digress...

This first leg of our tour was added last to our itinerary by the State Dept. I suspect that our diplomatic aims in Sweden are not as pressing as those in Russia or Serbia; nonetheless, our friends at the US Embassy here as well as the Swedish people in general seem genuinely glad to have us here. If I may generalize, the Swedes seem to be an extremely well-adjusted, mellow, if slightly shy, bunch of people. For starters, no one seems too bothered by the freezing cold weather (in the 20s with some snow, this week). People are out and walking the streets of Stockholm and going about their business. Unlike New York, they do seem to be wearing jackets that are actually warm. No one is in a mini skirt or in a leather coat- people are wrapped in shearling, wool or down with serious gloves and hats. I guess they must be used to it. We've been chilly, but mostly not freezing. Russia, our next stop, will be 20 or 30 degrees colder, at least, so this is a good warm up (or cool up) for us...

People seem quite polite and relaxed here. It couldn't be more different than New York and I must say, I rather like it! People go out of their way to help you and everyone we've met has been supportive and complimentary, from the hotel staff to the festival promoters to local musicians and club-owners. Plus, they speak English quite fluently, which is convenient, indeed. If only Sweden had the climate of San Diego, CA I'd consider moving here in a second. (Just consider, mind you.)

Well, there is the issue of taxes... Swedes pay an average of 70-80% of their income on taxes, plus there is a 25% sales tax on all purchases, including food. They do have an amazing socialized medicine system, spotless streets, clean public bathroms and full state support for the arts, including jazz, so the money is certainly well spent. It would take a bit of adjusting to get used to giving so much to the government, especially our government...


In any case, all of us in the band are thankful to have this opportunity in the name of the State Dept to do something positive for the world- spread the joy we feel in playing music. It's amazing that this program that we are a part of survived the Bush years. Spreading goodwill through music seems diametrically opposed to the primary thrusts of our foreign policy in general right now, but like I said, we are proud to have been selected to represent our country in this way. People here in Sweden have been friendly to us as Americans. They seem to really appreciate our friendship while guarding their sovereignity and nutrality. Makes sense to me. Stay tuned to see how we are received next week in Russia and later this month in Serbia. (We expect Estonia to be similar to here...)

At our briefing in Washington DC last week, they told us that Sweden is quite welcoming of immigrants from afar. They said that more than 15 percent of Swedes are now not of Nordic origin. Many of the new immigrants are Muslims. While this may be true, but we haven't seen these people on our tour. The people on the street and the people at our gigs and classes have been a fairly white, blonde bunch. Sweden prides herself on being a neutral, independent country. Thanks goodness, there have been no repercussions either here or abroad against Sweden from the current cartoon crisis (cartoons poking fun at the prophet Mohammed). The papers here did not publish the cartoons and Sweden has been so far immune from the misguided violence that angry young Muslim men in Lebanon, Syria and elsewhere have directed at Danish embassies. My bandmates and I were discussing how glad we were not to be going to Indonesia, The Middle East or Chechnya on this trip... We may be cold, but we're thankful to be safe.



***


Speaking of the music, we had only two performances in Sweden, as this part of the tour was added quite recently and it was too late to book a theatre or club in Stockholm. On 2/4 we played at a jazz festival in Vasteras, about 1.5 hours W of Stockholm. Although we were not printed in the program, we still managed to attract a crowd of several hundred people. We were well received and we sold a good handful of CDs and made some new friends and fans. The other artists at the festival that we heard were all super-straight-ahead, mostly combos with singers or big bands. There is a serious avant garde scene, I'm told, but we certainly didn't see it at this festival. (Vasteras has another festival called New Perspectives that's supposed to be more avant garde. Hopefully we can get some more info about it for a future tip.)

Today we played a short set at the Royal Academy of Music. We performed in a modern theatre with a lovely 7' Hamburg Steinway (I want one, though I need another piano like a hole in the head). We had a small, but appreciative crowd of locals enjoying a free concert and jazz students checking us out. We followed the set with a question and answer based masterclass. At first, the students were quite reluctant to ask questions. They seemed quite content to sit and listen. Once they warmed up to us, the class flowed nicely between intelligent questions and answers; it was a totally different vibe than some classes I've taught in the US where people overwhelm us with often misguided questions. They seemed more interested in life as a musician in NYC than in the music itself. Perhaps they are more intuitive with regards to jazz here. I can relate to that.

The Swedes do love jazz and they have a big local jazz scene. We met a number of local and ex-pat American artists during our trip. They seem to have a good feeling for the music, both as players and listeners. I'd venture to guess that there are more jazz fans here per capita than in the US. Crazy, right?

Musically, Grupo Yanqui is still finding it's footing with our fairly new lineup. Drummer Keith Hall and trumpeter Jim Seeley are both new to the band, but co-leader, bassist Gregory Ryan and I (composers of the music) haven't played most of this music in over 2 years. Greg, Keith and I have a great connection from having played together for so long, though we've never played the Grupo Yanqui book. Jim is totally new to this music and he doesn't seem to have worked too hard before the tour to learn it... Today our hotel was gracious enough to let us rehearse quietly in the conference room. This much-needed opportunity to focus on some songs that we're not comfortable with was much needed. It helped the band vibe, which has been a little tense on stage. No one likes to perform music they don't feel comfortable with. I listened back to a recording of today's gig as I wrote this blog and I was pleasantly surprised at how good it sounded, but that's because my expectations weren't too high... Hopefully this will come together in the coming days (sooner rather than later). For now, we'll just do the best we can and I'll try not to judge the results. The crowds have been enjoying the music, who am I to question their response.

It's been fun, even relaxing to stay at the same hotel for 5 nights and to have had time to sightsee (the Vasa Museum, a perfectly preserved 16th Swedish Century Warship was amazing and the architecture here is beautiful), but mostly I've got an impression of a very sophisticated culture that is modern, while rooted in a proud, deep tradition. If they are as welcoming of immigrants as the US claims they are (and like I said, I didn't really see this one way on another), Americans could stand to learn something from Swedes. I hope we return again soon, next time, perhaps in July.

Tomorrow AM we leave for Russia where we will travel thousands of miles by train, play concerts in huge symphonic halls and shiver often. The vacation is over. Time to bust our the thermal underwear...