So, the picture above was taken four weeks ago today. It feels SO much longer ago than that. I'm not entirely sure where the time's gone, though, since I've been at home most of the time. But I realised that if I don't write this blog post soon, I'll have forgotten everything about Spain, and my list of links to share will be so long no-one will ever read to the end of it....
Actually it's probably a good thing that I've left it a few weeks before writing, because hopefully it'll help me be more concise. And, most of what I have to say is about the journey rather than the time in Valencia - I spent most of the time there in my room reading. But let's see.
(Note: this will be long anyway, I suspect. If you're not interested in the overland trip to Valencia and back, scroll down to the links!)
We set off as planned on Tuesday 26th May. Nothing much to report between home and London. We walked from Euston to St Pancras and did the obligatory pose with John Betjeman. We considered having champagne until we saw how much it cost. Plan B involved getting wine and nibbles from M&S to eat on Eurostar. Eurostar was very exciting and RIDICULOUSLY fast. I was following our progress on the map on my iPhone, and couldn't believe how fast we whizzed across Kent (or how little of London we saw on the way out - a lot more of the journey was underground than we'd expected). When we emerged in France there wasn't much to see other than fields. Sue eventually became convinced that she could see the Eiffel Tower, but none of the rest of us could. In fact, we didn't see it at any stage (on OR off the train), and we're now convinced it's actually been removed.
We emerged from Eurostar at Gare du Nord. After a lot of faffing about caused by the fact that no-one had any euro coins and the ticket machines didn't take notes, so we had to queue for ages to get Metro tickets, we eventually got on a Metro headed for Gare d'Austerlitz... and it didn't move. Turned out there was a strike on. There were lots of announcements which we couldn't quite hear, and each time, some people got off the train, but most of them stayed on. A helpful local woman advised us to stay on because the train would move eventually, and luckily she was correct.
Plan A, on arrival at Gare d'Austerlitz, where we had several hours to kill before getting the sleeper train to Barcelona, was to put the bags in left luggage and wander up to Notre Dame. However, it turned out this would cost a fortune, so we lugged them with us. It wasn't too bad, at least at first - Alison and Sue and I had large rucksacks, which meant that we ended up with sore shoulders quite soon but could otherwise walk easily, whereas Judy had a wheeled case AND a (small) rucksack, so her shoulders were fine but she was hampered by having to manoeuvre her case. Anyway, we wandered along the river in the vague direction of Notre Dame. On the map it looked as if it was quite close, but the map was deceiving, and we walked for quite a while before we could see it. Sadly we didn't have time to go inside, but it was nice to see the place anyway.
When we got back to Gare d'Austerlitz, we had a quick drink in the station bar before wandering over to look for our train. We were all a bit startled at first to see how very small the compartment was. I'd seen photos on the website, and they were quite accurate, but it felt a lot smaller with four of us in it! It was fine though, and actually it felt roomier when the beds were pulled out, even though it wasn't. There was lots of entertainment due to the fact that the corridors were so narrow you had to squeeze past anyone you met coming the other way. (The train was set up in the old-fashioned way with a narrow corridor running along the carriage and separate compartments opening off it. You know, like the Hogwarts Express.)
We'd planned to have our evening meal on the train, but when we went to investigate, it turned out that there wasn't a table available till 11pm. (The train left at 8.30pm.) This was a bit of a disappointment, because we were quite hungry by then, but there was nothing we could do, so we sat and read for a while until we could eat. When we finally did get into the restaurant, the meal was nice, but VERY overpriced for what it was, and there was very little choice. I must admit that if I'd known how much it was before I'd agreed to eat there, I wouldn't have agreed. However, the setting was amazing, so I'm glad I had one meal in there, even though it used the entirety of the money my mum had given me for the week. (Yes, I know it's ridiculous that the only money I had was what my mum gave me!)
After we ate, it was definitely bedtime - it had been a long day and we were all exhausted. The beds were quite comfortable, but annoyingly I couldn't sleep a wink. I think it was because it was so ridiculously hot. Apparently the air conditioning did kick in at some point, but I was on a bottom bunk and couldn't feel any cool air. So I lay awake all night. I did have my eyes shut, though, so it was quite restful. And I was delighted to realise, at about 5 am, that we must have reached the Spanish border, because I felt them changing the wheels on the train (Spain has a different gauge to France).
We got to Barcelona just in time for breakfast. It was now Wednesday 27th May - the day of the Champions' League Final between Barcelona and Man Utd (in Rome) - so I had put on my United shirt specially :-) I was so pleased I did this, because that morning was great as a result! Wherever I went in the city, people commented on my shirt, and it was a really nice atmosphere. The others were a bit taken aback at how friendly the rivalry was - they'd expected that me wearing my shirt would cause trouble - but I hadn't been worried. Interestingly, the first guy who talked to me was someone who was standing at the entrance to the station when we emerged. I'd been told that when we got to Valencia all the locals hated Barcelona so they'd all support United for the day, but this guy told us that this wasn't the case - if it was Real Madrid against United, everyone in Spain (other than Real Madrid fans) would cheer on United, but Barcelona don't inspire such hatred, so the rest of Spain (other than Real Madrid fans!) would cheer on Barcelona. (And he was correct, at least as far as Valencia fans went.)
We asked this guy where he recommended for breakfast. Turned out there was a cafe/bar right over the road from the station, which he said was perfect, and it was. It had the two vital things I needed at that point: 1. great coffee, and 2. a plug socket so I could charge my phone! (I'd expected there'd be sockets on either Eurostar or the Trainhotel, but there weren't, and my phone had used lots of its charge following our progress on the map.) As a bonus, the TV in the bar was showing nonstop pictures of the buildup in Rome. I like a city that has its priorities right - there was NO more important news in Barcelona that day!
After a leisurely coffee or two, we went in search of the metro station, where a very helpful member of staff confirmed the cheapest way of doing what we wanted to do. I was very impressed with the Barcelona metro system - it was clean and efficient and air-conditioned, and the stations had arty things on the walls, and even the muzak was cool - at one point there was a jazzy version of Tea for Two which we were quite taken with. It took a couple of trains to get to Sagrada Familia (the main place we all wanted to see). Eventually we came up the steps, and... WOW! The initial view of the place is absolutely mindblowing, and it just gets better after that.
We all wanted to go round and look, but we still had the problem of the bags (the left luggage at the station was closed, and the nearest alternative was miles away, so we had to keep everything with us). But it all worked out fine, because Sue and I were quite keen to sit and have a rest before going round the cathedral, whereas Alison and Judy wanted to go immediately. So Sue and I sat with the bags while they went in, with the plan being that we'd go in when they came out. As it turned out, they were longer than we'd expected and we didn't have time, but it wasn't a problem, because we knew we had time to kill on our return journey. It did mean we didn't see much else in Barcelona, but we'd never expected to, so none of us minded.
While Sue and I were waiting, we took turns popping off for a quick wander round the square. I bought some postcards and attempted to buy some stamps. In Spain you get them from tobacconists (if they don't have any where they sell postcards) but the first few places I asked said they didn't have any. The next place I tried said they DID have stamps, but couldn't possibly sell them to me because of my shirt. I couldn't work out whether or not they were joking, but they didn't give me any stamps! I got some in the end though, from a lady who had just finished wrapping up a Barcelona football shirt for a customer. That resulted in another good conversation :-)
Sue and I had a great time examining the outside of Sagrada Familia. I think it's the most amazing building I've ever seen. Only St Peter's in Rome comes close. I could tell you all the things we saw, but there are probably millions of places online that will do it better. (If you're interested, you should probably start with the official site.) Most unexpected thing we saw in the architecture: probably the bassoon. Really.
Anyway, when Alison and Judy emerged we went for lunch nearby. It was at this point that I cursed things by saying - out loud, in front of witnesses - that it was the best day I could remember having in years. Note to self: if you ever have another day as good, do NOT say so. Because before our lunch had even arrived, Judy's rucksack had vanished. She retraced her steps just in case, but was adamant all along that she'd had it when we got to the café, so it must have been stolen while we were sitting there. She seemed amazingly unruffled by this, saying that it didn't really matter because most of her stuff was in her case and everything valuable was in her handbag, but even so I would have been much more upset than she was. (In fact I *was* quite upset, because I felt as if I'd cursed the day. Yes, I know that's irrational.)
Despite this setback, we had a lovely lunch. All morning there had been people in Barcelona shirts all over the place. They vanished, of course, at the precise moment that we decided it would be nice to get a photo of one of them with me in my United shirt. But a while later, one did appear, so I hurtled across the street and accosted him. He seemed quite amused, and didn't mind being dragged across to our table to be photographed. (That's the photo at the top of this post.) When the waiters saw this, they wanted to be photographed as well, but they weren't wearing Barcelona shirts so it seemed like a good idea to wrap my United scarf round them. (See photo below.)
Eventually we got back on the metro to head back to Estació de França, and the curse struck again. There was a minor incident on the train that I didn't really see clearly, but it looked as if Judy was being pushed by someone. I'd forgotten about it by the time we got off, until Judy realised that her purse had been taken out of her handbag. This upset her a lot more than the loss of the rucksack an hour or two earlier, because there was a lot of money in it.
We'd seen a place we thought might be a police station, so Judy went in there to ask what to do. Turned out it was a Foreign Office type place, and they couldn't do much, but they did call the police in Valencia to explain what had happened, so that it would be easier for Judy to report there the next day.
After that, we got to the station. We were in plenty of time for the train to Valencia, so we sat on a bench and waited for our train to appear on the board. There was a train listed at the correct time, but the departure board didn't go into much detail, and didn't mention where ANY of the trains stopped (other than their final destination) so we weren't sure whether that train was ours.
It goes without saying that when a day is cursed, it's cursed three times... because with (I think) twenty minutes to go before the train left, we found out that that train (the only one at the correct time) was NOT our train... because our train went from Barcelona Sants instead of Estació de França! I felt terrible. This was entirely my fault. I'd been the one who'd booked all the tickets and told the others the arrangements. I thought I'd double checked everything, but I hadn't been thorough enough. (Some trains to Valencia DO go from França, but not the one our tickets were for.) The thing is, because Alison had paid for all the tickets, I gave them all to her when they arrived, so I didn't have the actual ticket to look at, or I might have noticed the station name. I can't believe I didn't notice when I *got* the tickets, though - I suspect I must have assumed that "Sants" was some sort of abbreviation.
Anyway, the urgent thing was to try to get to Sants in time. We got a cab, and it was obvious that he thought it was unlikely we'd make it, when we told him what the problem was. He did drive pretty fast, but the traffic wasn't good (and at one point there was apparently a naked guy running along the pavement, although I didn't see him!) and we got to the barrier less than a minute after the train was due to leave. Needless to say it had left bang on time.
As Judy later pointed out, if there was ONE train we were going to miss, this was the best one, because there were plenty of trains on that route, and missing ours didn't mean we missed anything else. But the problem was that I knew it would cost us a fortune. The tickets we had were extra-cheap web special offer ones, valid only on that specific train. Judy tried to talk them into letting us use them on the next train, but I knew it would never work - the conditions were very clear - and it didn't. So we had to get new tickets, which cost more than three times as much as the useless ones. And by this point, of course, neither Judy nor I had any money at all. Sue came to the rescue, although there was a bit of a panic when they pointed out that her credit card had expired (luckily she had another one that worked).
The next train was an hour later, and it was possibly the nicest train we'd been on so far (even nicer than Eurostar, and that was quite posh). I was in a black mood by then, though - I just felt so guilty that a simple error of mine had cost everyone so much money, especially because I already had no idea when I'd be able to pay the others back for the REST of the journey. I managed to distract myself a bit with Harry Potter - I'd taken all seven books with me to reread, and I think I was up to book 4 by this point. Harry always cheers me up, so I was in a better mood by the time we arrived (again, bang on time, like all our trains so far). I was quite surprised that the others still trusted me to know which way to go to get to the hotel, but they did, and in this case their trust wasn't misplaced, because it was fairly easy to find. (I'd loaded lots of maps onto my phone - it would have been easier to use the GPS map, but that involves going online, which is only free in the UK.)
We finally got to the hotel at about 7.30 pm, I think. All I wanted to do was sit down, shower (preferably while sitting down), rest my feet, rest my SHOULDERS (the weight of our bags had become a big issue by then) and eat and drink. But most of these were not an option. Why not? CHAMPIONS' LEAGUE FINAL! Kickoff was at 8.45 pm. I'd arranged to meet Claire and her husband, who'd agreed to find somewhere good to watch the match from. She'd texted me to tell me where they were, but when I looked on the map my heart sank, because it was even further from the hotel than the station was, and I knew THAT took ages. So I had the fastest shower ever, got half changed (only half, because there was no way I wasn't putting that United shirt back on, however sweaty it was... if I'd thought ahead properly, I would have brought two! I've GOT two!) and went straight out again. It's fair to say I was hobbling a bit - I suspected I had some blisters, but hadn't had time to look properly.
I made it to the bar JUST in time - the match kicked off just after I walked through the door - but I missed the first few minutes while I wandered through the bar looking for Claire, with no success. I texted her to ask where she was, but shortly afterwards she appeared at the door and took me to another bar nearby - they'd decided it was less crowded. It was indeed less crowded - but only a couple of minutes after I got there, Barcelona scored. Things went downhill from there, as I'm sure you're aware. United had only played well in the first ten minutes, and they eventually lost 2-0, and we couldn't claim they didn't deserve to lose.
It was an experience watching the game in a bar full of Spanish fans, who were cheering for Barcelona whether or not they were actually Barcelona fans, but the atmosphere was friendly. Ro and I shouted sporadically, which amused them. (Les, Claire's husband, was too annoyed with the performance to get excited about it, and Claire herself wasn't watching.) (I actually tend to squeak rather than shout, when I'm watching football.)
By the time the game ended, I was REALLY hungry, having had nothing to eat since lunch, but I had no money till I could get my per diem thingy, so it couldn't be helped. I think it actually helped that there were no seats in the bar and another long walk back to the hotel, because by the time I got back my feet and legs were aching so much that I was more bothered about getting into bed and not having to move for eight hours than about getting any food. Also, I hadn't slept a wink the previous night on the train, and I'd only slept for an hour or so the night BEFORE that, so it was definitely bedtime.
Next morning: concert day! It seemed a bit surreal that after all that travelling and non-musical activity, it was so soon. But more important things came first, name ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT BREAKFAST and HANDING OUT OF MONEY. Hurrah! Food at last!
I think I went back to my room to read, after breakfast. My legs and shoulders were still aching, and I had definite blisters on my feet. And in any case I'd planned to stay in a lot - it's the best way of not spending any money. I'd decided that I could probably survive till I got home on the handout money, but this plan was based on eating as much as possible at breakfast and putting bread and fruit aside for lunch.
At lunchtime we all wandered over to the Palau de la Musica to rehearse. It's a lovely place - actually even lovelier than I thought, because I didn't walk all the way round it, and when I saw Alison's photos I wished I had. The rehearsal was fine - I was about to tell you about my favourite moment of the whole trip, but I think that was in the SECOND rehearsal (just before we went onstage) so I'll get to it shortly. The acoustic in the hall was a bit weird and it was very hard to keep to the beat until we got used to it.
I went back to read some more between rehearsal and concert, although we did go for a wander to the supermarket at some point to get snacks to keep us going till after the concert. By the time it was concert o'clock, I was already melting - I really, really hate the heat. But I forgot about it when I got inside the Palau de la Musica, because there was fabulous air conditioning, and then our choral director gave one of his inspiring speeches (I can't remember a thing he actually said now, but I know I was really inspired at the time!) and then, during the warmup/rehearsal, there was an absolutely magical moment which was my highlight of the whole trip, and which I've been trying to describe to people since.
This will sound a bit odd if you weren't there, but bear with me. It was the "ich harrete" bit, where the men sing the tune and the two soprano soloists sing backing vocals. The men knew the tune, and they were singing it in tune and with the correct pronunciation. There was nothing wrong with it at all - it sounded great - and I suspect that most other choral directors would have said "well done" and moved on. But not ours. He DID say "well done". But he wanted more. He wanted the men to sing the tune as if they were all soloists.
Now, just think about that for a moment. It's an absolutely tiny alteration that he was looking for. So tiny that it's difficult to put into words exactly what he meant (well, any words other than what I've already used). It's SUCH a tiny alteration that you'd be forgiven for not believing it would be possible for anyone to tell the difference, even if the men DID succeed in doing what was requested.
And yet.
Here's how he got what he wanted: He told them to all sing that passage together, but not TRYING to be together. They were to all sing as soloists, and as long as they all sang at roughly the right speed, it didn't matter (for the purpose of the exercise) that the rhythm was lost. He did not clarify exactly how it WAS going to work.
Well, it took a minute before they all worked out what he meant, but then they set off. He didn't conduct them at all, after starting them off. Of course, within a few seconds there was just a huge wash of sound, and no words or rhythm were audible, just mushed-up notes. The ladies looked at each other, amused, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one wondering how on earth this was going to help ANYTHING. It sounded totally ridiculous.
But then... the miracle. (Or, if you like, the proof of genius. I know which explanation I believe.) With no other input - from anyone other than the men themselves - the sound changed. Gradually we realised that it DIDN'T sound totally ridiculous; it was the best sound I've ever heard the men make. I had shivers down my spine, because they DID suddenly sound like a load of soloists. It was wonderful. By the end of it I had a big goofy grin on my face through the sheer joy of listening to that sound. We gave them a round of applause, and we were not just being polite.
In the concert, that bit didn't sound QUITE as magical as it did when they sang it without a beat... but it definitely sounded better. Which was the point, after all. I really hope that experience sticks with them until we sing at the Proms - I can't wait to hear that bit again!
The whole concert went really well, actually. We got a standing ovation at the end, which was lovely. (We often get a few people standing in Manchester, but it's extra special when it's an audience that doesn't know us, and presumably didn't include many family or friends.)
After the concert, Alison and I went out for food. We actually ended up in an Italian restaurant, which was not our intention, but it was very nice and we ate far too much. We decided to walk it off afterwards - Alison wanted to see the cathedral, and I knew where it was (because the bar where I'd met Claire was very near there) and we were at that side of town anyway, so we had a bit of a wander. The most impressive thing we saw wasn't actually the cathedral (which wasn't lit very well, so we couldn't see much of it) but an absolutely enormous tree in the middle of a square. We did find out later what sort of tree it was - it was mentioned in that guidebook that was in the hotel room - but I've forgotten now. (Here's what it looked like, though. That's me sitting on it.)
Friday was a free day, and in the morning we walked up to the City of Arts and Sciences, passing the opera house on the way. Both were spectacular. (I've only just found out that the opera house has had its problems. Seem amazing - it looks absolutely perfect now.) We did go inside the science museum bit of the City of Arts and Sciences, but I didn't find the inside as impressive as the outside, sadly (although they did have Spider-Man, which is always a good thing). Afterwards, we had some orxata (tigernut squash, a local delicacy) because a friend of Alison's had told her it was unmissable. Well, it was OK, but I don't think I'd rave about it.
We'd decided we had to find some authentic paella for lunch. This turned out to be UNBELIEVABLY difficult. I know there were paella places near the hotel, and out past the Palau de la Musica. But there were NONE near the City of Arts and Sciences - at least, if there were, they were well hidden. We looked all over the place. There were loads of restaurants, but none served paella! Eventually we decided to head back to the hotel from the place we'd got to (which was quite a way away), and if we didn't find any paella on the way, we'd give up. Well, we did find some in the end, but we were almost all the way back to the hotel before we did.
After all that walking, my blisters were playing up again, so I stayed in my room reading (and brilliantly not spending any money!) for the rest of the day and evening. (No doubt some of you will feel sorry for me, but I'm very used to my own company and was very happy to do this, so don't worry. I love to sit and read. If I sit and read at home, I'm always aware there's something else I really ought to be doing instead. I loved reading without the guilt!)
The next morning was the start of the long (but exciting) journey home. It was a lot less eventful than the outward journey, so it won't take as long to tell. Let's see... The lovely Graham agreed to squeeze the five books I'd finished into his suitcase so I didn't have to carry them. That fact made the journey home a million times easier - my shoulders hadn't really recovered from the outward journey! My only remaining concern was whether the last two Harry Potter books would last me until I got home. (I'm a very fast reader anyway, but even faster when it's a book I've read several times before.)
Sue and Judy didn't want to walk to the station, so they paid for a cab for all of us, which was nice. We were in plenty of time, and definitely at the right station! It's a gorgeous station, as well. Alison was very frustrated because she hadn't brought the charger for her camera, and it had died, so she couldn't take photos of the fantastic architecture. (That's why the last few photos are all mine, you see.) Sue and I sat on a bench, and our weight made the other end lift up, which amused the extremely cute guy who was sitting there, which in turn amused me enough to make me determined to get a photo of him - and I did (see below).
The train actually left about fifteen minutes late (the only one of all our trains that wasn't bang on time) but it had made up the time before Barcelona, so all was well. We arrived at Sants station and got the metro to Sagrada Familia, where Sue and I went inside - and were blown away by how amazing it was - while Judy and Alison stayed with the bags. We confused ourselves because we'd assumed that the bench we'd sat on on Wednesday was the same as the bench they sat on on Saturday, but it turned out it was in a whole different garden on the opposite side of the cathedral. However, it was while discussing this that it turned out Judy and Alison had missed one entire face of the cathedral as a result of similar confusion, so we won! Highlight of the day, though, was Sue looking at the architecture and suddenly shouting out "There's the cock!" It was probably funnier if you were there :-)
We had lunch nearby again - same road, different café - and then got the metro back to Estació de França and went to the Bar with the Plug Sockets (it probably had a different name but I forget what!) Sue and I sat and people-watched (and bag-watched) and had sangria, while Judy and Alison went to see Las Ramblas. I'd been told all sorts of other places that I should visit, but going anywhere else on the metro would have cost money I didn't have, and I didn't have the energy - or the unblistered feet - to walk far, so I volunteered to stay with the bags, and Sue liked the idea of just sitting and having a drink, so everyone was happy. Hopefully I'll go back to Barcelona one day. (I'll have to, I didn't even see Camp Nou!)
Alison and I had decided we weren't going to have another meal on the trainhotel, so we went to a nearby shop and bought supplies to sustain us till the next day. It was still ridiculously hot, so we got ice creams too. EXCELLENT plan, because when we got on the trainhotel it was soon as hot as last time. There was a bit of tension, too, because Sue had bought her ticket a day after the rest of us, and that meant she'd ended up in a different compartment on the return journey because someone else had already bought the fourth place in our compartment. Sue was hoping to persuade whoever it was to swap, but as it turned out we never even saw her. We saw her partner a few times, and I don't know what he'd sorted out, but the gist of it was that if we didn't mind keeping their suitcase in our compartment, Sue could stay with us, so it all worked out well.
Sue and Judy went for their meal (again, they couldn't get in before 11 pm), and while they were eating, at about midnight, we crossed the border into France, and the wheels were presumably changed again. I say "presumably" because Alison and I were trying hard to see exactly what was going on, but we couldn't be sure. We definitely stopped for ages, and they were doing SOMETHING, but we couldn't see what. When I witnessed whatever it was on the way south, I was sure the train tilted when they did it, but it didn't this time. Maybe it felt different because I was lying down? Anyway, this time it felt more as if they lifted the whole train up and then lowered it again, but I couldn't be sure.
Sue and Judy returned not long afterwards, and we all went to sleep. Well, we tried - Sue fell asleep with her light on, and I can't sleep with lights on. We were both in top bunks this time, so if I'd climbed over to wake her, I suspected I would have woken the others as well. So I had the brilliant idea of throwing things at her till she woke up, and the best things seemed to be screwed up (but unused) tissues. She did wake up eventually, and turned the light off at my request and went straight back to sleep. She was very amused when I explained to her (in the morning) why her bed was covered with screwed up tissues, because she didn't remember the incident at all!
We got to Paris in time for Sunday breakfast. The others wanted to go for a wander and have breakfast somewhere outside the station. I figured that inside the Gare d'Austerlitz was still in Paris, and it involved no walking, and my blisters were STILL sore, so I insisted on staying with the bags and had breakfast on my own on the station. (I had the last laugh, because the café they went to didn't have enough croissants for all of them!) I enjoyed people-watching - in particular, there was a large samba band that was obviously meeting up to go by train to a festival somewhere, and every time an extra one turned up, there were flamboyant greetings all round. I was also quite taken with the station announcement jingle, which had a sultry jazz-type female voice singing "da da da da" (to C G Ab Eb) before every bit of information.
When the others got back, we got the Metro to Gare du Nord, and had a coffee while waiting for our Eurostar to be announced. The trip back under the Channel was as incident-free as the trip the other way, and in no time at all we were back at St Pancras and it was time to split up. Alison was going off to Glyndebourne before she went home, and I was booked on a different train home to Sue and Judy. I'd hoped to meet up with friends, because I had several hours to kill before my train (it was cheaper to go later), but they had other plans in the end, so I did a bit more reading. That meant that I'd slightly miscalculated the number of books I needed, because I finished Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows on Euston Station an hour before my train left. But all was well, because I have free internet access on my phone, so I read some books online. I finally got home just before 11 pm on Sunday 31st May, very keen to see my cats. Slightly less keen to find that my mum (who'd been catsitting) had accidentally unplugged the fridge and freezer at some point, but there was hardly any food in either anyway, and she'd cleaned the house for me, so I came out of it all pretty well!
You can see all my photos - and even more of Alison's (which are much better, because she had a proper camera and a steadier hand!) online here. But, in case you can't be bothered to look, my favourites (other than the one at the top of this post) are below. The first is us having lunch near Sagrada Familia. (That's where the top picture was taken, too.) The second is the two waiters with me and Alison, wearing my scarf (they were very amused by that). The last picture was taken on Valencia station on the morning we left. It may appear to be a photo of Sue, but I was actually trying to get the very cute guy who was sitting on the bench with us :-)
Anyway, the aforementioned million links, in no particular order:
Here's the Times review of our Valencia gig.
It turns out there's a great blog about life in Valencia - Hola Valencia. Sadly I only found out they existed while we were actually there, because they contacted me via Twitter. If I'd known earlier I would have got them to come to our concert! But do look through the blog - there are some great pictures.
Oh, and coincidentally Valencia is coming to Manchester in August! Do go to the game if you can. Valencia CF is a very good team (they finished 6th in La Liga) but they have huge financial problems at the moment, and presumably this friendly is part of their plan to make some money.
Sting talks about songwriting and school music lessons.
Via ChoralNet, a very powerful welcome address given to new music students in Boston by Karl Paulnack. He talks about the power of music, particularly after September 11th.
There are pianos being left in public places all over London at the moment. Someone from the Guardian went to play one.
The BBC Music Magazine compares the musical heritage of Barcelona and Manchester.
The new version of Sibelius (version 6) allows you to input music (to produce a printed score) by singing directly into the computer. Can't wait to try this, but it'll be a while before I can. In the meantime, version 5 does everything I really need it to, so I can be patient.
On 14th June there was a World Busk Day. They even had the first ever buskers in Antarctica. Yet somehow none of this was in the mainstream news, unless I missed it. Bizarre.
If you've ever played Rock Band, you'll be looking forward to the forthcoming Beatles Version. Most exciting part? If you watch the trailer all the way through, you'll realise that it has not just one vocal line but THREE DIFFERENT ONES. So people who can sing harmony parts - and stick to them - will have a decided advantage!
A brief Guardian editorial about office choirs.
The Spectator talks more about Spotify, which I mentioned a while ago. If you haven't signed up yet, I recommend you do!
Also in the Spectator, a piece about songs that you don't like as much as you used to.
Via Finite Attention Span, a fabulous audio story about postal workers in Ghana.
You may remember that I have written about Whit Friday in the past. This year's was on 5th June, and it was the wettest one I can remember. It was still great, though. If you know a band which was involved, look them up on the Saddleworth results and the Tameside results. And put Whit Friday 2010 in your diary - it's on 28th May.
BBC Sport lists their favourite football chants of the season.
Did you all watch the Cardiff Singer of the World? I enjoyed it, but that's probably because I didn't attempt to watch it live - I recorded it all so that I could fast forward through the interview and chat bits, which I really hate (in general, not just on this programme). As usual I was disappointed that there were no altos and hardly any mezzos, and I was annoyed that there was a counter-tenor in the final (I don't like counter-tenors at all), although he was quite good. I was also annoyed that so many of the arias were repeated so often - the baritones were the worst for this. I got very sick of Largo al factotum and that thing from Don Carlo. I think the right person won, though.
I listened to Götterdämmerung on the radio and enjoyed it a lot more than I expected to. The men sounded fabulous. My favourite bit, though, was the orchestral bit right near the end, and it was a bit I'd heard before but hadn't even realised was Wagner, let alone Götterdämmerung. I worked out that where I'd heard it before was on the soundtrack to Excalibur, at (I think) the bit when Arthur's died and Excalibur has been thrown into the lake, and then the Lady of the Lake holds it up in the air. It's years since I've seen this film, so I might have remembered it wrong. But I'm pretty sure the music I'm talking about accompanies a scene that's something like that. The IMDB soundtrack listing suggests it might be Siegfried's Funeral March; can anyone confirm this? Anyway, the Classical Source has a review that I don't think I'd seen when I listed other reviews.
The Choir of London took Puccini to Palestine.
The Guardian has been running an alphabetical series called School of Rock, which analyses aspects of songs. My favourite so far has been the feature on optimistic songs.
My favourite link of all the ones I'm mentioning today: The BBC Music Magazine reports that the RLPO is trying to claim that our orchestra is not the oldest in Britain. I absolutely love the quote from our chief executive - I laughed out loud for quite a long time when I first read it!
The Guardian is very excited about the forthcoming Elbow concert. They had a preview piece a couple of weeks ago, and now there's a more detailed report about rehearsals.
Here's a thing from BBC News about how singing can help seriously ill people, and another thing about how opera is good for the heart. Oh, and apparently Verdi is better for your heart than Bach. (via Intermezzo)
An interesting thing in the Guardian about the evil that is booking fees.
It seems that Brynfest made a big loss last year and this year's has been cancelled. Very sad.
And, finally, a few non-musical links. The most important is about the Manchester Zombie Walk on Sunday 12th July. Put the date in your diary! Read the comments to the MEN article for a few more details. We should have singing zombies! 4-part harmony!
Star Wars fans - particularly if they also like games - will be excited about the forthcoming Star Wars MMO, called Star Wars: The Old Republic. Watch the trailer - the game looks AMAZING. (Also, like most games, it looks like one I'd be REALLY bad at, but I'd enjoy watching a friend play.)
The Guardian is as enthusiastic as me about the Spanish rail system.
Soup o' th' Day is a new website that lists "what's on in Greater Manchester". I don't really like the layout - it's quite hard to read - but the information is up to date, and may be useful to some of you.
What does the internet think? is a new site that gives a simple answer to a simple question.
And, finally - you'll be aware, I'm sure, that United have allowed Cristiano Ronaldo to leave. Both the Guardian and the MEN describe him as "irreplaceable", and I'm very much afraid they're right, although I hope they're not. I'm particularly worried because my season ticket has now expired, and my heart is broken because I can't afford to renew it. (I couldn't afford it last year either, but there was a miracle - i.e. a well-paid one-off piece of freelance work - at just the right time. This year, there was no such miracle.) The reason I'm WORRIED rather than just upset is that I've had my season ticket for the last three seasons, and we've won the league in all three seasons. We didn't win in the three seasons BEFORE I had a season ticket. So plainly I was the lucky charm, and it's all downhill from here. Oh well.
It occurs to me that I haven't said anything about rehearsals since we got back from Spain, and they've been fabulous - but I have no energy to write in detail now! Short version: we are currently rehearsing for a concert on 4th July, which has an all-American programme that I'm very excited about. There are things we're doing that night that aren't listed on the website - another four things at least, and who knows what else (we only found out about one of the extras last night, and we haven't seen the music for it yet!) In addition to the Barber Agnus Dei (which will be mindblowing, although my breathing feels worse every time we do it) and the Songs of Freedom medley (which I really like, especially after I asked whether we could change a note in the alto part and he agreed!), we're also doing a fun arrangement (involving the audience) of the Battle Hymn of the Republic, plus three spirituals: Go Down Moses (my favourite of the Tippett set, mainly because the 2nd altos have the best part, which NEVER happens); We Shall Walk Through The Valley In Peace (which is just gorgeous, particularly the bass notes) and A City Called Heaven, which is the one we just found out about. Our choral director sang it to us at the end of last night's ladies' sectional, and it was so beautiful I had a tear in my eye. Not sure whether that was because of the song itself, or his singing, or the fact that it was his last ever sectional with us. Probably a combination of all three. But I can't wait to sing it tonight.
