This month has been rather emotional. For business reasons, our company has terminated some contracts with a couple of customers, which ultimately means that I will no longer be working with some of the repair partners that I have been in close contact with over the past several years. Two weeks ago, I visited one of my repair sites in Germany to complete a few final tasks, and had the opportunity to have dinner and a few beers with the guys. We have all been in the industry for a while, so we know how things tend to be. Nothing lasts forever, and as some projects come to an end, others will start up. One always hopes to find another opportunity in the future to resume the working relationship, but I was particularly touched that the guys expressed the same sentiment. So, it was a literal "auf Wiedersehen."
Not surprisingly, I was feeling a bit pensive at the weekend. Friday evening, I met up with a few friends for dinner at the pub, which was followed by a few more pints. It was a pretty nice time, marred only by the presence of a guy that I had met briefly once before. The pub was a bit crowded, so when I saw him across the room, I headed outside to chat with a friend, and hoped like hell that he wouldn't see me and come outside.
For a few minutes, my luck held out, and I was able to converse with my German friend; we caught up on a few bits, but, as both of us are rather quiet, a lot of times we can simply enjoy the time without babbling the whole time. Then, the guy came outside for a cigarette, came over to our barrel, and greeted us in English. He couldn't remember my name, but I answered when he asked, then continued to sort of stand there quietly. Like I said, Mono and I were not really saying a whole lot, but neither of us intended for the silence to serve as an invitation for someone to come up and start a conversation. OK, we were in a pub, so this is a normal thing for people to chat randomly, but I just was not really in the mood.
"Wow, you guys seem really down tonight," the guy said with his strong Irish accent.
"Just having a quiet night at the pub," I responded, with no desire to relate details of my recent work weeks.
The guy continued to blather on about this and that, and I hoped that he wouldn't stick around for a second cigarette. My buddy introduced me to a German word a couple of years ago that I am quite fond of: Depp. Der Depp is basically a jerk, a moron, a fool, a dork, or, to get rather vulgar, a complete prick.
The fact that the guy had a big Paul Bunyan type beard was only a small part of the annoyance. I have a beard myself, but I am not an Abercrombie and Fitch type of guy. Everyone is entitled to their own style, but his irritated me a lot. Mono felt the same way, and he quickly finished his beer and took off. Fortunately, another friend came outside, so I still had some moral support for my last beer of the evening.
Unfortunately, the Depp continued talking, and once he started talking about offshore accounts and ways to avoid taxes (he is a finance guy), I realized that I would be better off going home. I emptied my glass, paid up, and bid my friend a good evening, then chucked off home.
20 minutes later I received a text message from my friend; the Depp wanted to head off to the red light district in the city. Again, to each his own, but that is certainly not my thing.
Saturday proved to be a rather quiet day for me, but I wokked myself a little chicken broccoli stir-fry during the afternoon, then I got to thinking about a movie that I had seen several years ago called "This is England."
It is not as if I have been living completely under a rock, but I was unaware that there several mini-series that served as continuation of the story, and I found myself watching several episodes through the course of the evening, and late into the night.
The story itself is great, and the cast and production is equally impressive. However, what struck me most was the piano soundtrack by Ludovico Einaudi. His work absolutely floored me, and it has been quite some time that I have been so struck by musical expression. I learned piano from an early age, but it was Joe Jackson in particular who has had such an influence in what I play. His work makes me want to continue playing. Listening to the Alarm and Miles Hunt (the Wonderstuff) made me want to learn guitar, and because of them, I am a strummer. I never developed the technical ability of a Pete Townshend or Eric Clapton, nor did I ever really have that desire, especially with guitar. Although those guys are phenomenal in their own right (as was Prince, I might add; I recently listened to a solo he played during "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" which was absolutely incredible), I have preferred the more basic styles, rather more minimalist in approach.
With this composer Einaudi, I find a new influence, which is thrilling. While watching the films last weekend, I had to stop and take a breath; the music was that expressive.
Knowing that I was due in Madrid for a few days during the coming week, I debated whether or not to order some of the music, since it would likely be delivered while I was out of town. I finally decided to go on and order a couple of books of his sheet music with the expectation that they would be waiting for me upon my return home from the business trip.
The few days in Madrid were again spent completing some open tasks and saying auf Wiedersehen to some repair partners that I will likely not have to visit any more. Like with the partner in Germany the previous week, and the visit to my partner on Porto in March, I was a bit sad to be ending my working relationship with the Spanish partners. I have worked hard to build these relationships, so they are difficult for me let go of, despite my understanding that these changes are always going to happen in business.
I had a little extra time in Barajas to sit and contemplate. I like the contrast of sitting in a busy airport collecting my thoughts while other travelers are rushing about catching their own flights. I caught up on the affairs of the world by reading the Economist, and tried not to get too depressed by the state of things in the world (upcoming elections of a bunch of Depps, etc.) but was really looking forward to getting home. I had already seen that a package was out for delivery, so my music would likely be waiting for me later that evening.
Sure enough, I opened my mailbox to find a nice thick envelope containing my recent purchase. That arrival was more than enough to keep me from getting to irritated with the other letter that I received from Deutsche Bahn, the one congratulating me on my "recent" renewal of my Bahncard 100. This is the same Bahncard I cancelled three weeks ago. Ah well, another "to-do" that I will have to take care of early next week.
So, Thursday evening, Friday afternoon and evening, and again for a couple of hours this morning, I have been sight-reading several new pieces. One of the great things about playing piano is having the ability to express, and knowing that sometimes the simplicity is all the more moving. I certainly like composers such as Debussy and Czerny, but in Einaudi, I now have a composer that I can study and learn from. I am attracted to his expressive style and use of dynamics, and find a real connection in the playing style. My own feeble efforts will undoubtedly improve, and I look forward to the journey.
One of my favorite compositions is called "Berlin Song." I have taken to referring to it with an added "...the Frankfurt Mix," for no other reason other than to express that I think it is wonderful that I am an American who is learning pieces composed by an Italian that were on a soundtrack of an English film about skinheads in the Midlands during the 80s, and it makes for a nice connection here in my little corner of Germany.
It works for me, and I can only say "thanks."
See you out there
bryan
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