A Kiwi Cellist in China

The Pianists

2007-01-06T19:10:00.000+08:00

6 months into my journey and I find China to be an extraordinary combination of beauty, wealth, poverty, stench, corruption, potential, intrigue and fun. The orchestra is changing fast. A few months ago I thought I was in some sort of local pops orchestra, but in the last three months we’ve covered more serious repertoire then I thought possible, played literally dozens of concerts, accompanied some fairly corrupt piano and conducting competitions, and recorded a staggeringly bland symphony inspired by Mao himself.

The China Shenzhen International Piano Competition: There is a reason for the slightly odd grammatical structure of the official title of this competition. It transpires that the translator left out some important words when converting it from Chinese. How it should have read is as follows:

If you are from CHINA, specifically SHENZHEN, you are eligible to win this INTERNATIONAL PIANO COMPETITION.

On paper the competition looked very promising. There was a roughly 50/50 spread of international and Chinese judges. There were a good number of international competitors from all corners of the globe (even one from Tasmania) and every round was accompanied by the orchestra (which I believe is a world first for a major piano competition). Accompanying more than 20 different concertos in just 2 weeks requires a special rehearsal technique. This consists of management canceling all scheduled days off and constantly threatening the players with salary cuts. In China, where there are no musician’s unions, this seems to work rather well.

For the first round of the competition the competitors were each required to play one of 3 Mozart concertos followed by two Chopin etudes. The concertos were accompanied by a string quintet playing a cut-down version of the orchestral score. This is how I got to perform Mozart’s Piano Concerto no. 19 more than 30 times in 3 days (This was just the beginning of the week’s monotony). By day 3 the Russians in my quintet were quickly tiring of their steady diet of Mozart and cigarettes. It was at lunch time that one of them offered a diversion by recommending Cognac as a good remedy for performance nervousness, the theory being that a single shot would relax you just a little without any adverse effects. The others quickly decided that this was a technique which must be tested immediately. 10 minutes later we were at the local sushi bar with a very large bottle of Courvoisier cognac and a thick slab of dark Belgian chocolate. I took my shot of Cognac, felt great, and watched in awe as two of the Russians proceeded to finish the entire bottle in a little under 30 minutes, roughly half a liter of Cognac each. We performed the Mozart 5 more times that afternoon. The only sign that anyone had drunk anything was a slightly improved sense of optimism (the Russian’s use of the words “farrrking terrible” dropped from being every other sentence to about one in three).

After so many Mozarts I was really looking forward to the final just to play some different music. The six finalists provided an interesting program indeed. The first would play Rachmaninov’s second piano concerto. This would be followed by Concerto no. 2 by Rachmaninov. The third contestant would be playing the Piano Concerto no. 2 by Sergei Rachnaninov. Following all this Rachmaninov it was refreshing to see that the fourth contestant was also going to play the Rachmaninov 2. To really stir things up the 5^th contestant played the Rachmaninov 3 (just like the Rach 2 but 30 minutes longer) and the final contestant played Tchaikovsky.

The standard of playing in the final was quite high. But one competitor really stood out, Maria Kim from the Ukraine (now based in Germany). Her Rachmaninov was flawless and had a level of confidence and musical depth far greater that any others. So when the judges announced that they were at loggerheads we smelled something fishy. The final result was Maria Kim 1^st equal with a Chinese girl whom I won’t name. The Chinese girl had booked our orchestra a few weeks before the competition and had played a private concert of all the competition repertoire with the added bonus of a full week’s orchestral rehearsal that no-one else had had. Her teacher was also a major backer of the competition and a very powerful man in China. Coincidence? well who knows…

By combining 1^st and second prizes both Maria and the Chinese girl left with a good amount of money (about US$30’000) and the promise of a further paid concert with the Shenzhen Symphony. Maria was offered her concert just a couple of weeks after the competition. Believing that she was flying back to China to perform Chopin’s Second concerto as the guest soloist in a major concert she instead found herself performing it 8 times as part of the second round of the conductor’s competition which had no public audience.

The whole experience left a rather bitter taste in my mouth (and it wasn’t just the Belgian chocolate!)

Propaganda

2006-11-29T17:25:00.000+08:00

I regularly read and contribute to the posts on the Internet Cello Society's forums. Usually the cellists of the world prove to be a creative lot. But when one member asked for help to design a flyer for a concert of all Russian cello music the results truly amazed me. One regular poster suggested his poster include the title:

A 'CELLO RECITAL
featuring music from
THE ERA OF RUSSIAN COMMUNISM
in association with _________

Wow... the creativity there just bowled me right over.
Anyway.. I decided to create a couple of my own just to kick people into gear a bit.

Karamay

2006-10-26T01:35:00.000+08:00

As a small child, and indeed now as a slightly larger child, I've always dreamed of traveling the old Silk Road. This always included visions of sand dunes, silk carpets, camels, mosques, crowded markets, and possibly me in headdress, leading a tribe of Bedouin, spouting lines from Lawrence of Arabia. Last month at least part of my dreams were realized as our orchestra took a tour of Kashgar, a 2000 year old city at China’s most westerly point, and Karamay, a city in the far north-west of China, nestled into the foot of the mountains bordering Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan.

Karamay, in China’s Xinjiang province, is a long, long way from Shenzhen. Getting there requires a 5 hour flight to the capital Urumchi, followed by an 8 hour bus trip. For the musicians here who smoke (all of them) this presented a formidable endurance challenge. After hours of flying over some apparently spectacular desert scenery (none of which I saw thanks to my isle seat) there was a terrific stampede for the nearest toilets, which were easily identifiable by the thick clouds of cigarette smoke already emanating from the door. Safe in the knowledge that no-one would have any nicotine cravings for an hour or so (including anyone who may have inadvertently strayed within 10 meters of the toilet entrance), we were shepherded onto one of three orchestra tour buses.

The bus trip was my first taste of Xinjiang and immediately I fell in love. The first thing that you notice is that this place in no way feels like China. The road signs are all in Chinese and Urgur, a language closest to Uzbek with a Persian alphabet. Indeed many buildings had no Chinese characters on them at all, only the flowing Arabic script. The people look different too. This province is only 3% Han Chinese, the rest are mostly Urgur people; tall with features you’d more readily associate with Turks or Afghans.

The incredibly long straight road to Karamay is bordered on the right side by the sand dunes of the desert, and on the left by the dry, dusty mountains separating China from Kyrgyzstan. In a country of a billion people it is remarkable that somewhere can feel so utterly isolated. Small villages punctuated the dunes every half hour or so; usually a tight group of 30 or so mud houses with thatched roofs surrounded by a crumbling mud wall and a few fields. These can have changed little throughout the centuries and indeed the only things resembling modern technology were a few decaying tractors. I desperately wanted to stop to take a photo but this was impossible as the bus kept hurtling on, too fast for even a snap out the window. There were only a few brief moments that the bus slowed down. One was to pass a horrific looking crash between a truck, now on its side, and a bicycle (this is a sight I have seen far too many times in China). The other was when the bus toilet broke…

There are few things worse than the smell of raw sewage on a tour bus when you know you have hours left to travel… One of those things is a Xinjiang style public toilet. Upon stopping at a local gas station the musicians once again poured out of the bus to light up their cigarettes. But here they smoked for a different purpose. The toilet block consisted of a rectangular building built over a shallow ditch filled with human waste. There were a series of rectangular holes on the floor and the smell emanating from the complex defies all attempts to describe its staggering pungency. To enter this building with its weapon-grade stench without some kind of atmospheric barrier would be foolish beyond belief. Two or three strong cigarettes offered our only means of filtering the air and it was barely adequate. Even thus armed I saw some of the orchestra’s most seasoned travelers staggering out of the block retching.

An hour before reaching Karamay we started to see signs of modern civilization. Oil pump jacks started to pepper the fields with increasing frequency until they stretched out to the horizon in every direction like a plague of slowly bobbing grasshoppers. Eventually we were driving through the city itself, which is a remarkably uninteresting place. Home to about 200 thousand people (seemingly all of them taxi drivers) the buildings are all new, rectangular, and approximately 8 stories high. The roads are wide, the trees are young, and everything is perpetually covered in a thin layer of light brown dust. At least they’ve built a nice square in the center of the city. There’s also an illuminated waterfall which marks the termination of an irrigation canal that winds its way into Karamay all the way from Russia (which isn’t actually that far).

The one thing that I did find completely alluring was the majestic mountain views. From the window of my hotel room there was a spectacular view of the northern mountains which completely dwarf the city. Wandering down a side street the following morning I managed to stumble across a Muslim cemetery and took some photos with the mountains in the background which I’ll try to attach to this blog.

Our hotel was very comfortable. With its great view and soft western style beds and nice bathroom it was a striking contrast to my accommodation in Shenzhen. No sooner than we’d set our bags down came the obligatory phone call asking me and my roommate (a Chinese bass player) if we wanted a “massage” (we declined)… prostitution is the one thing you can guarantee to find in abundance right across China – that and pollution.

Later that evening we were treated to the first of a seemingly endless flow of spectacular meals. The hotel restaurant was completely booked out by the orchestra. On each of the 10 or so tables was a stunning collection of at least a dozen local dishes; whole fish in chili, lamb with chili, potatoes with beef and chili, noodles in chili oil with chili, bread for soaking up left over chili… There were also huge bowls of soup, great platters of grapes and watermelon, and an endless supply of tea. Everything was delicious. Being the most culinry adventurous of the westerners (who were huddled together like nervous sheep at a single table), I was also the only one to try the sheep’s stomach (with chili). This is something I would regret. I spent the next day no further than two meters from my room’s toilet with a nasty bout of food poisoning whilst everyone else gave our first concert.

I joined the orchestra for the next two concerts which were given in a medium sized hall. The concerts were originally supposed to be outside but were moved due to high wind. Never ones to waste something that cost money, the Chinese decided that the concert still needed to be heavily miked and proceeded to set up a massive array of speakers which were, of course, completely unnecessary. The repertoire was unexciting – bits of Carmen, some Christmas music, lots of Chinese music, and some poorly orchestrated local music… However the audience seemed to love it and clapped enthusiastically at the end, cheering especially loud for the local percussionist and singers who joined us for a few numbers. The next day we gave a similar concert outside to the local army division and their spouse which was also a success.

In all I didn’t get to see a lot of Karamay – although I got the distinct impression there wasn’t much to see anyway. I managed to take a stroll to the local markets. These were set up in one long corridor in the middle of town. Stalls were piled high with dried fruit (a specialty of the area) and huge, colorful piles of spices. There were also a large number of butchers – their meat sitting on unrefridgerated shelves for who knows how many days (hence the food poisoning). Beside these were a number of dentists. The 1950’s style dentist chairs, drills attached, were prominently displayed in the front windows so all the public could watch the operations taking place. For the patient this provided the added bonus of a view directly into the butchers’ shops where one could watch a carcass being skinned whilst having one’s tooth extracted…

After just 2 nights in Karamay it was time to leave, but not without a stop at the local museum. The museum was set up to celebrate the illustrious history of Karamay, which went like this: Some time around the 1950’s a peasant on a donkey discovered some oil here which he used to fill lamps and sell back at his local village. He did this for many years until he decided not to anymore… then some others came, built a lot of oil wells, and a big refinery. The museum itself was precisely as interesting as the history it represented.

Our quest for knowledge thus satisfied we boarded the bus once more back to Urumchi airport for a plane to a spectacular city at least 2000 years older than the one we were leaving – Kashgar.

To be continued…

Music for Africa

2006-09-07T20:32:00.000+08:00

Last week I was complaining to one of my orchestra compatriots that I was likely to finish my contract having only played a single symphony... Now it appears the orchestra is trying to play the entire symphonic repertoire all at once. Here is a list of the music we're expected to have prepared by the end of the month (in-between some other concerts of lite, easy music like Beethoven's Eroica Symphony...):

Bartok Concerto for Orchestra
Schumann 4th Symphony
Strauss Til Eulenspiegel
Beethoven 7th Symphony
Beethoven 4th Symphony
Brahms 3rd Symphony
Wu Zuqiang 3 Pieces for String Orchestra
Chopin 1st Piano Concerto
Rachmaninov 3rd Piano Concerto
Prokofieff 2nd Piano Concerto
Tschaikovsky 1st Piano Concerto
Chpoin 2nd Piano Concerto
Beethoven 5th Piano Concerto
Ravel Piano Concerto
Beethoven 3rd Piano Concerto
Prokofieff 3rd Piano Concerto
Grieg Piano Concerto
Beethoven 4th Piano Concerto
Rachmaninoff 2nd Piano Concerto
Tchaikovsky Violin Concerto
Beethoven 1st Piano Concerto
Mozart Piano Concerto in C
Liszt 1st Piano Concerto
Brahms 1st Piano Concerto
Brahms 2nd Piano Concerto
and some chinese piece with a name i cant read...

Now I know i promised some posts about our extraordinary tour of Kashgar and Karamay and the guest Italian conductor whose Spanish wife we all wanted to kidnap... I think if I time my practice right I’ll have a small break between 4 and 4:15am on Monday morning - I'll try to squeeze some writing in then... now where did I put that red-bull?

Every day is Christmas

2006-08-16T12:37:00.000+08:00

The following is an article that I wrote for Arts Hub which, I've been assured, will be published very soon. For those who can't be bothered waiting for it any longer here it is! I appologise for the re-hashed jokes to those who've read the rest of the blog:

As a young, aspiring cellist there are a few places I thought I might end up: London, Paris, New York, perhaps even Berlin. Over the years this list altered slightly but one place that was never on it was mainland China. Yet here I am trialing as principal cellist of the Shenzhen Symphony orchestra; an orchestra in a city that, just two months ago, I didn’t know existed.

In fact it’s not that surprising that I hadn’t heard of Shenzhen. Just 25 years ago this city didn’t exist at all. It was just a small fishing village on the border of China and Hong Kong. Since being granted “special economic zone” status in 1980 it has grown to a city of 16 million people, hundreds of sky scrapers, thousands of cars, pollution, corruption, 33 billion fake designer watches, and one Symphony Orchestra.

China was never a place I planned to work. In fact I’m still somewhat surprised at being here at all. In 2005, after finishing most of my Master’s Degree in Brisbane (a few papers still withstanding), I moved to Melbourne in search of casual work with the various orchestras there. The move was a strain, I had almost no contacts in Melbourne, no money, and students were few and far between. So I found myself doing what so many aspiring musicians do: working in hospitality. Before I knew it I was drowning in a sea of Mocha Latte and Belgian waffle orders, getting no practice done, missing audition opportunities, and watching my dream fade away fast.

So when the call came through from an old acquaintance in Brisbane that the Shenzhen Symphony was looking for cellists, I put together a CD faster than a brass player heading to the pub after a Mahler concert. In two days I managed to get a decent recording down, having paused only for the occasional train to pass by (which, in fact, was every 10 minutes. They ran within meters of our back door). A few weeks and 140’000 Mocha Latte orders later I got the call: The Shenzhen Symphony wanted me there immediately, yesterday if at all possible. So I packed my bags, said farewell to my girlfriend, and headed to China with nothing but my cello, a few summer clothes, and my enormous Mandarin vocabulary: “fat”, “bugger”, “coffee”, and “Mapo Tofu”

In a recent edition of BBC’s Top Gear Jeremy Clarkson was heard saying about some nameless car that ‘‘This...is probably the best of the people carriers. Not that that’s much to shout about. That’s like saying: ‘Oh good, I’ve got syphilis, the best of the sexually transmitted diseases.’” So when I was told that I’d be playing with “probably the best orchestra Guangdong province” that exact phrase leapt to mind. The Orchestra I found myself in is a strange beast indeed. What you have is a full time, full size, fully funded symphony orchestra that evidently has nothing to do. They’re completely government funded which seems to absolve them of any responsibility in regards to minor things, like putting on concerts or finding an audience. In the six weeks since I’ve been here we’ve played just one concert which involved any degree of preparation (Brahms 4^th Symphony). Despite also including the Bruch violin concerto, performed by an excellent Chinese violinist, this concert drew less than 200 people. The other performances have been more akin to pops concerts, and even that is stretching the definition of pops concert. One gig last week had the entire orchestra sitting on a giant platform which actually rolled onto the stage from the wings. We had been hired to play less than six minutes of background music whilst two speakers gave our audience (Shenzhen’s local army divisions) a nice, moral-boosting speech. The stage broke in half during the dress rehearsal leaving the string players in the wings, propelling the brass on stage, and dumping the wind section somewhere in between. The show was abruptly canceled. Prior to this was a special performance for the wives and children of Guandong’s largest cigarette manufacturer. This consisted primarily of Christmas music which, in the true spirit of communism, has been completely disassociated with any form of religious holiday so we can hear it all year round (please kill me).

What makes the above seem even stranger is that the orchestra is actually quite good. There are a large number of excellent musicians from many countries, particularly Eastern Europe. The technical ability of the cellists in my section is formidable and has been quite a wake-up-call for me. The main thing holding these musicians back is money. For many of the Chinese and Russians here this orchestra is the end of the line. Salaries for westerners like myself are reasonably good. Salaries for Chinese and Russians are not. With a monthly income less than that of an underage Australian café worker, these guys can’t afford to travel overseas for Auditions. And they certainly can’t afford the quality of instrument necessary for a position in a professional western orchestra. I am surrounded by cellists who know the complete Piatti caprices by heart, yet whose cellos are literally held together by sticky tape. I was speaking to one excellent Georgian bass player who has his heart set on working in London. In the early 90’s he had finally pulled enough money together to buy a decent bass. Then, during the attempted coup in his homeland, a tank fired a shell on his apartment. It destroyed his house, his bass, and came within inches of killing his family. Needless to say these are experiences that your average Australian musician just doesn’t have to contend with.

Most of the Chinese musicians are wonderful people and wonderful players. Tomorrow we’re due to give a concert of all piano concertos; the soloist in the Mozart is nine, the girl playing the Rachmaninov (second concerto) is just 14. These are some of China’s new prodigies in a country where 100 million people study classical piano. Australians and other western musicians are in an extremely fortunate situation where Chinese orchestras will hire us simply because we’re foreign. It’s seen as prestigious to have white faces in an orchestra here. It is also for this reason that every foreigner invited here is offered a principal position. Hearing the local musicians I can’t imagine that this situation will last for long. Those that believe Asian musicians to be lacking in musicality and adept only at scales and studies are living in a dream world.

I’m not certain what I’ll gain from this orchestra. I had come here hoping to perform some major symphonic works before returning to Australia to audition for the local orchestras. But sadly these works don’t seem to be on the concert schedule. In fact there is no concert schedule. Most of our concerts seem to be organized two weeks in advance at the very most. Occasionally we’re only given a few hours notice before having to perform. It seems the orchestra must play at the whim of any official who wants a symphony at his party that evening. This lack of organization extends to their treatment of foreign musicians. Having been assured a certain salary and accommodation package before I left Australia, I arrived in China to find the details had changed. They tried to offer me just two thirds of the original salary, and wanted me to find my own accommodation. Extensive negotiation followed. The accommodation I am currently in (paid for by the orchestra) is abysmal by Australian standards. I am on the fifth floor of a grey, concrete apartment building with no lift. My front door doesn’t close, the walls are full of cracks and holes, the gas lines leak, and there are live electrical wires running right under the shower. Whilst it’s easy to complain, I was given a reality check when I realized that in the opposite apartment, which is exactly the same size and condition, live ten people.

I’m going to stay in China for at least the next 5 months. Perhaps I’m not gaining the solid orchestral experience I had hoped for, but I’m gaining life experience that I’ll never regret. I have left the tranquility of Melbourne for a city that, in just a few years, will have a population larger than the whole of Australia. There are already dozens of Starbucks here, malls lined with Prada, Gucci, and Louis Vuitton shops (both genuine and fake). Shenzhen is a city growing so fast that “Shenzhen-speed” and “Shenzhen-efficiency” are well known tag-lines in the business world. If the orchestra starts to develop at anywhere near the pace of this city, than it could soon be an ensemble to be reckoned with. Until then, I know exactly the people to call for you next non-denominational-christmas-themed-work-party…

Puddles in the street

2006-06-26T17:00:00.000+08:00

China’s not a country renowned for its honesty: “SARS? Not here. Bird Flu?! Nay ‘tis but a chest cold…” In fact it’s such a problem here that university students must sign a waiver allowing the college to video-tape them when they sit exams. The tapes of those that do well are scrutinized for suspicious behavior. So coming here to work on a tourist visa without a contract was possibly not my smartest moment. In fact I’d rank it about as intelligent as giving the Central Bank of Nigeria signed copies of my ATM card with the PIN written in vivid red marker on the front.

It’s hardly surprising that, since I’ve arrived, certain things have not been exactly as promised. Firstly the pay, it’s not what I was offered in Australia. The difference isn’t too much but it wasn’t such a great salary to begin with. I finally have permanent accommodation, however there are certain creature comforts that are conspicuously absent, like the front door (well there is a front door, it just doesn’t shut…). The air-conditioning only cools one room, I had to steal the TV from my last apartment, and there are live electrical wires running under the shower. I also had to spend the last two days cleaning the 3 feet of dirt off the floor and a large pile of nails from the bedroom. What’s really sad is I know this is far nicer than the majority of my neighbors, and not just the Chinese ones. There’s a horn player here who has a four room flat courtesy of the orchestra. Three of the rooms leak when it rains. It’s also on the 8^th floor and of course there’s no lift.

One refuge I have from the crummy apartment is shopping, which, frankly, is amazing. There’s a giant shopping centre here that’s five stories high and sells nothing but fake designer goods. In fact some of the tourist guides advise people to skip Shenzhen altogether with the exception of this one building. I have Dolce & Gabanna Shirts (AU$10), a Diesel watch ($10), Prada shoes ($15), a bespoke four piece tux with tails (AU$200), and an 8 gig “ipod nano” (AU$100). I’ve been back to this center a number of times (purely on account of the extra fittings for my tux of course…) and the scale of it always blows me away. But during my last visit my Australian co-workers and I saw a sight that was unique to china (well… maybe not unique to china but certainly foreign to Australia).

Seeking a reprieve from the hawkers, who will actually try to physically drag you into their shops, we decided to head upstairs for lunch. Whilst standing on the escalator I casually glanced upwards to be presented with a mother and friend and a young baby. They were holding the child over the bin at the top of the escalators while he pood into it, and holding him in such a way that every poor soul on the interminably long trip up had to shut their eyes (not a good idea thanks to the pickpockets) or stare right into the heart of the action. We decided to delay our lunch for a couple of hours.

I’ve since discovered that it’s not at all uncommon here for people to defecate in the street – and not just young children. I’ll be keeping a watchful eye for fear of puddles on sunny days...

Amazon Women

2006-06-11T10:19:00.000+08:00

One working week down and I'm starting to get a taste of what life in the Shenzhen Symphony is all about. This week we played two concerts. The first was Brahms 4th symphony paired with the Bruch Violin Concerto, the second was a sort of proms concert full of the inspired music you get at proms concerts: Sleigh Ride (In the true spirit of China all Christmas music has been completely disassociated with any form of religious holiday and can be heard everywhere all year round... please kill me), the bugle thing (you know the one where all the trumpets try to out-do each other), and about four million remarkably similar Strauss waltzes.

The first concert was fairly standard, went quite well, was poorly attended, and poorly applauded (which is apparently the norm here). As for the proms concert there were a couple of things that set it apart for your regular Aussie outdoor gig. For a start it was indoors (understandable as the rain apparently killed a dozen people in landslides yesterday... or did it? In China you never know...). Then there were the 30 odd ushers, each one an amazon woman at least 6 foot tall wearing 12 inch heels (this really does stand out in China where my girlfriend Colleen, at 4 foot 8, is remarkably average height-wise). And finally there was that fact that the whole concert was sponsored by, and for the employees of, one of China's largest cigarette companies. The 1500 strong audience consisted entirely of wives and children of the companie's employees. You could see the wide eyes of the kids stuck firm upon the gargantuan ushers, no doubt believing that if they just keep smoking those smooth smooth cigarettes they too can be 6 foot tall and look forward to a career in basketball or jelly wrestling.

The orchestra itself is not as bad as some people had led me to believe. As far as standards go they lie somewhere in-between a good Australian youth orchestra and a professional orchestra, keeping in mind that both the youth and professional orchestras in Australia are occasionally excellent. It's almost as if you formed an orchestra out of all the players on Australian Orchestra's casual lists, there are some stunners, and some who are decidedly average. One of the main problems holding this orchestra back is the instruments, and this has opened my eyes to the plight of Eastern and Asian musicians. With my well-setup circa-1850 German cello, I have at least 4 times the volume of any of the other cellists in my section. The cellos that many of the others are playing can be compared at best with school instruments. Some of the musicians have slightly better instruments back in their home towns which they wont bring here due to the humidity, but even these are barely adequate.

The thing is good instruments cost a lot of money. Russians are paid little here and Chinese even less, but for many a Chinese and Russian musician this orchestra is the end of the line, as good as it gets. With a salary comparable to that of an underage Australian cafe worker how can they expect to ever buy the necessary thirty to fifty thousand dollar instrument that is needed in a western orchestra?

One of my new friends here is a double bass player from Georgia (the country not the state). He did manage to get himself a good Bass back in Georgia some time ago, but it was destroyed in the early 90's when a tank fired a shell into his home that came within inches of killing himself and his family. Australians, Kiwis, Americans, Westerners... we are all damned lucky.

China's new Great Leap Forward

2006-06-02T16:55:00.000+08:00

In The Devils Cup, by Stewart Lee Allen, a strong case is made for Coffee as the single most important driving force behind Western Civilization. Many an empire has risen and fallen in direct co-relation to the quality of their coffee. If this is true than Italian Best Coffee is a great shining beacon leading China towards a new world dominance! If, however, you believe Kroeber's theory that Civilization is governed by hem lengths, then unfortunately China has a long way to go. Although I should state that if Krober's theory is true Brazil must mark the apex of human society as a place where the hem has disappeared altogether, leaving but a flimsy g-string. I'm not so sure he's wrong... (Krober did, in-fact, find a real relationship between rising and falling hem lengths and similar trends in a countries stock market).

I am extremely pleased to say that the coffee at Italian Best rivals that of many establishments in Melbourne (although at 26 Yuan, AU$5, it had better!). The coffee shop, which is actually part of a small chain, is located at the bottom of the DiWang Commercial Center, Shenzhen's tallest building. I had the extreme pleasure of not only sipping on my first fine coffee in days (yes I'm addicted), but simultaniously experiencing the pleasant company of fellow Melbournite expat Hannah.
Having thus completed my quest to find a suitable caffeine dealer, I can now focus on more pressing issues - such as my imminent audition on Tuesday (I'll be playing Haydn's D Major concerto, which will be considerably more in tune than the way I played it in practice today...) and preparation for next week's Brahms rehearsals, where I will be formally introduced to the orchestra for the first time. Wish me luck.

Comments and such

2006-06-02T16:51:00.000+08:00

To all those reading this, and I know you're out there! Please feel free to leave comments by clicking on the little quill at the bottom of each post. Also, for those who are tech savy, you can subscribe to this thread using the "site feed" link in the menu bar to the right (it's an Atom feed).

Of Legal DVD's and Mafia Coffee

2006-06-01T10:24:00.000+08:00

When everything is alien any small comfort is appreciated ten fold. My small comfort came yesterday in the form of a TV unceremoniously delivered to my lounge. Despite there being no English channels here there's something strangely re-assuring about this heavy lump of technology sitting in a room which previously was home to an uncomfortable couch, a locked cupboard, and a lot of dust.

This TV was to lead me to one of the not-so-hidden pleasures of expats and locals alike all over China, and especially in Shenzhen: DVD's.

So far I've bought about 50, which apparently is quite average for a western musician's first visit to this particular shop. I've also purchased a DVD player which is capable of everything but making my morning cup of coffee (more about that later). The shop assistant assured me that all of these were legally manufactured DVD's, even the ones with obvious spelling errors like "Great Vilinists of the Bell Telephone Hour". This is no-doubt the reason this particular shop was on the 5th floor of an unmarked building through an unmarked door out the back of someone’s living room... all that was missing was a secret knock.

The range of titles available is incredible. I have beautiful archival footage of Paul Toutellier, Zara Nelsova, Richter, Oistrak, Gould, documentaries by Simon Rattle and the BBC, materclasses by Greenhouse, operas by Tan Dun, concertos by Rostropovich. For the Australian readers there was even a Ten Tenors DVD although for some reason I neglected to buy that one... So for the time being the humid night air is now penetrated by the oh-so-soothing voice of Lord Clark and his BBC documentaries on Western Civilization. This almost makes up for the lack of a kitchen...

With my fine Brazilian coffee still sitting in my bag unused my search for a decent cup is gaining momentum. I took a stroll through a series of markets yesterday and stumbled upon a place called "Besta Coffee Original Making Happy Place" or something along those lines. There was a billboard outside with a photo of something calling itself a Cappuccino. It had enough frothy white peaks to pass for a Queensland surf beach and a squiggle of something reddish black on top that was as likely to be red-bean paste as chocolate. What was more interesting were the numerous Mercedes parked outside and the uniformed guard at the door. On close inspection all the cars had little hammer and sickle flags in the windows and official looking number plates. I decided not to venture in for fear of upsetting the local Russian mafia contingent. The billboard also had the price: 25 Yuan, or about AU$4. Now this is expensive coffee even for Australia. To put it in perspective here, a good meal at a well-appointed Chinese restaurant costs about 8 Yuan - That coffee could feed me for 3 days!

Tomorrow I'll meet Hannah, another Australian expat, at a place called "Italian Best Coffee" that purportedly serves Illy. Hopefully I'll have more luck there, but for now I'll have to settle for the hot sweet soymilk that everyone seems to have for breakfast.

Culture Shock

2006-05-30T13:06:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, at 7am, I left Australia invincible. I boarded the plane endowed with a mental fortitude and adventurous spirit worthy of Shaw or Polo. Other than the slight pang of leaving my beautiful girlfriend, Colleen, to fend for herself in the murderous streets of Melbourne, I was thoroughly prepared. I had my cello, two translation books, my passport, and a Kilo of finest Brazilian coffee. What could possibly go wrong?!
Yet somehow, by 10pm Shenzhen time, I found myself huddled in the corner of my new lodgings feeling utterly lost, incredibly lonely, completely dejected, and altogether sorry-for-myself. How could this have happened? At what stage did the famed Kiwi thirst for adventure and travel leave me? I not sure I know the answer, although part of it can be ascribed to one thing: Chinese Accommodation.

Having been promised a 2-3 bedroom unit complete with all furnishings; couch, TV, Kitchen, bathroom, I was somewhat surprised at the unit I found myself in. Yes there were three bedrooms (at least I think so - one is locked and apparently off-limits), but certain other things were markedly absent. Namely the TV, Kitchen, phone and almost everything else. What I have is three beds, one set of sheets, two air-conditioning units, and that's about it. For a first taste of life with the Shenzhen Symphony this wasn't a good start. I was assured that this was temporary accommodation although exactly how temporary they wouldn't say...

So, in the mean time I can console myself with lots of practice (I wont be rehearsing with the orchestra until later this week when they start work on Brahms 4), my all consuming quest for a quasi-decent coffee (since I don't have a stove and cant prepare the stuff I brought over), and the ongoing process of getting to know my musician colleagues, which so far include 3 beer-guzzling Australians, a Russian Double Bass player who calls me "brother" and is insisting on cutting a CD with me, and a Turkish Bassoonist who broke his hand in a friendly fist fight last night...

From Mao to Margins of Error

2006-05-26T11:19:00.000+08:00

With only two full days left in Melbourne my preparations are nearing completion.. well sort of. I have considered pulling my suitcase out from under the bed (where I expect to find a considerable number of odd socks). I have deeply contemplated what clothes I may or may not pack, and I have stared long and hard at the large pile of papers on my desk that need urgent attention. Over the next two days I will seriously think about actioning some of those tasks.

That said I have actually organised one or two things to do with the move. I called my mobile phone carrier and changed my plan to "extort". This new exciting plan allows them to charge me obscene fees from any number of new and exciting countries. Some people would call this a "roaming" plan however the word roaming has about as much relevance to my phone as the word Virgin does to my credit card, which has been so abused it would feel more at home in one of Shenzhen's many "massage parlors" than any house of Vestals.

My wallet is also abundant with strange new currency. In one half we have the quietly contemplative face of Chairman Mao. The other is full of Hong Kong dollars emblazoned with salivating lions giving off a "seriously don't fuck with us... seriously" glare.

I’m still not exactly certain what I'm heading into. I picked up a brand new Lonely Planet guide yesterday which kindly informed me that "Shenzhen is China's richest city" with a "population of 785'000". Now that differs slightly from the official population in the Chinese guides of 5 million, which is fractionally under the wikipedia.org estimation of 16 million. Those more astute readers will note that this falls slightly outside the scientifically acceptable margin of statistical error (p<0.005), which would lead me to seriously question the counting methods of all three.

I've also been privy to some of the internal workings of the orchestra, where it seems one Australian player was promised a contract, offered a different contract, asked to re-audition, given their original contract back, then wound up playing in a different position to what was stated on either of the contracts. It sounds suspiciously like the orchestra's working off John Howard’s new Australian Workplace Agreement legislation.

Despite all this I'm extremely excited and optimistic about the whole trip. The city sounds very interesting, and regardless of any contract woes all the Australian players assure me that they're loving the experience. The only downside is the amount of time Colleen and I will have to spend apart, however we're both musicians and knew that something like this was inevitable sometime during the relationship.

Right now I'm off to buy tissues as I've recently been informed that, although this is a huge modern city of 785'000-16 million people, there is not a roll of loo paper in site... adventure awaits!

Hello Kitty

2006-05-19T22:03:00.000+08:00

With the move just a week out I've been furiously sending off emails to anyone with the misfortune of being in my contact list (which for some reason includes the entire staff of the Central Bank of Nigeria). Some of you have been bored enough to reply - to those of you who wished me well I thank you, to the rest who believe I owe them money I assure you I mailed the cheque last week.

One of those replies stood out as being great filler material for this embryonic blog. It was from my good friend Barnaby Ralph (early music specialist and recorder player extraordinaire). He sent this after I suggested that his move to Japan was soft in comparison to what I was about to do - I believe my exact phrase was "Japan is a move for sissies, a camping ground for pretentious luddites too sacred to leave the comfort of their 147 TV stations."

His retort was as follows:

Hah! Do radioactive lizards stalk the land? Does Hello Kitty glower down from every neon street corner with an air of mouthless menace? Do hordes of ravening schoolgirls snatch innocent English teachers and lock them away as reluctant sex toys in tiny Tokyo apartments? I thought not!

Actually, you are a braver man than me. I want water I can see though and a more or less stable political environment. I hope they are paying you a pleasant amount of money as well. At least you are not off to Vietnam - they would pay you in Dongs there. I suspect that is just the name of the currency, but one never knows in Southeast Asia...

In any case, congratulations on your new appointment.
Richly deserved and full of fun! I hope that you and Colleen won't find the distance too difficult to deal with.

Barnaby

Maybe I should take up English teaching in Japan...

Moving to China

2006-05-17T14:42:00.000+08:00

In a recent episode of BBC's Top Gear Jeremy Clarkson stated that owning the best model of a certain unnamed car wasn't necessarily a good thing: "It's like saying I've got Syphilis, the BEST of the STD's." So when I was told I'll be playing with the BEST orchestra in Guangdong's Special Economic Zone that exact phrase leapt to mind...

Nevertheless 3 weeks after receiving the phone call I am just a few days away from jumping in a plane and heading into who-knows-what! My tickets are booked, I have a myriad of injections to get tomorrow, my visa application is in, and this blog is online...

So on the 29th of May I'll board a Cathay Pacific flight direct to Hong Kong armed with my cello prowess (ahem...), my raffish charm (splutter..), and my enormous Mandarin vocabulary: "Fat", "Bugger", "Coffee", and "Mapo Tofu"

Wish me luck!