The night is far spent

During Advent, at some point we usually hear these words from Saint Paul:

...let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armor of light. (Rom.xiii.12)

In that spirit, I've decided to update my template. I've cast off the dark layout and put on a somewhat lighter one.

Actually, I had to. I opted to migrate to Blogger Beta, just like all the other kids seem to be doing. I knew if I didn't migrate now, Blogger would do it at some point automatically, without my say-so.

In order to take advantage of Beta's features I was gently ordered to update the layout to one containing new coding. I could have used one that looked the same as the Minima Black style I had before, but when I saw this white-brown-grayish one, called Rounders 2, I threw caution to the wind. The deciding characteristic of Rounders 2 for me was the nicely offset brown typeface used for blockquotes (see above biblical citation). One wants to make sure that the words of others are attractively distinguishable from one's own.

Yay, yea, and yeah

For awhile I've been reading emails with a misspelling. This must stop.
People keep typing, "yea," when they mean, "yeah."

"Yea" sounds like "yay." It's an adverb used in oral voting, expressing "yes," or used to introduce a more emphatic phrase. It can also be a noun meaning, "affirmative vote."

"Yeah" has the same short "a" sound as the word, "bad." It's an adverb meaning, "yes."

Please don't type, "yea," when you mean, "yeah." It looks dum.

Musician's bellyaching

What do musicians bellyache about? Among other things, bad gigs.

I have to sing in a concert a week from tonight with an amateur chorus as a (low-)paid ringer in the tenor section. I’m glad to have a nice, cheerful holiday concert to sing in a pretty church, especially since I have no Christmastime Messiah gig this year or the earnings that go with it. But preparing this concert is proving to be a bigger hassle than I’d feared.

On the program are Amahl and the Night Visitors and Respighi’s Lauda per la Natività del Signore. We'll sing the Respighi in English, printed in the score in awful, teeny-tiny letters beneath the original Italian.

At Tuesday night's rehearsal I learned that Amahl is going to be semi-staged (something the conductor who hired me neglected to tell me) and I have to put together part of my own costume. Plus, we will perform the opera off-book. That means I have one week to learn 14 pages of very random, wordy text. I won’t be able to hide in the background and lip-synch, because the rest of the tenors, including one woman who's "helping out" (a bad sign), sing too inaccurately to carry the part on their own.

I’ve already stayed up past 2:00 a.m. two nights in a row working on this music, which I’m being paid birdseed to perform.

Never mind. I’m sure some good will come of this. Somehow.

One-sentence Thursday

Since Andy, one of my blogging idols, has added Käseblatt to his roll of "Amazing Blogs," I'd better repay the compliment by actually making this blog "amazing," or at least, more trenchant than it's been.

zip one one one zero two

Look at the "About Me" text appearing elsewhere on this screen. It used to say that I live in "New York." Now it says that I live in "Astoria, Queens : New York City." Your eyes do not decieve you. This native Manhattanite has done the unthinkable and relocated to one of the city's so-called outer boroughs.

So far, I'm delighted. My Manhattan chauvinism ebbs away daily and my fondness for Queens grows. Astoria is a cozy -- but not un-invigorating -- neighborhood with speedy above-ground subway service to Midtown. (That last sentence was certainly a jumble of paradoxes, n'est-ce pas?) In fact, my new Midtown commute is as fast as, or faster than, the commute from Harlem where I lived during the past year. I don't feel in the least marooned or isolated from "the action" of the city. I simply live in a different wing of the mansion.

My apartment, shared with the radiant but beleaguered Mr. Supersweetie, is comfortable, well laid-out, and welcoming despite being a forest of semi-unpacked boxes. Storage and organization remain problems to be gradually solved. But I have high hopes and -- a rarity for me -- optimism!

The Johnny-One-Note Method

This is a terrific method for learning songs. I've been experimenting with it as I work on Liszt's Sonetti di Petrarca. If you didn't go to conservatory, or have studied music in a spotty way, you may not have come across such a systematic approach to learning new music. It will be a big help to you. The name "Johnny-One-Note" stems from the distinctive exercise of practicing the song-text repetitively on a single note.

The method requires a series of steps that may seem lengthy. If you're tempted to skip to the end, resist the temptation and do all the work! A good solid hour, for example, spent practicing a six-minute song as directed will prepare you well and save a lot of time and anxiety in the end.

Adapted from Tami L. Petty, Carol S. Webber, and a number of other voice teachers.

The pricipal stages are:
1. Translate
2. Speak/intone
3. Write
4. Melody
5. Perform

The step-by-step process:

1. TRANSLATE:
Write one line of original text with the literal, word-for-word translation directly beneath it. Repeat with each successive line of text.

2. SPEAK/INTONE:
a) Speak the text poetically; look for special qualities in imagery, word emphasis, rhyme or lack thereof, assonance, alliteration, etc.
b) Speak the text in rhythm observing all rests (under tempo is fine). Add a layer to this preparation by observing dynamics and articulation markings, as well.
c) Chant/intone the text on one pitch poetically: you may change the initial pitch periodically throughout the exercise, but aim for a comfortable tessitura.
d) Chant/intone the text on one pitch in rhythm as in step 2c).

3. WRITE:
a) Write each line of original text with its literal translation directly beneath, as in the translation step. Do this five times for each single line of text. If no translation is required, simply write each line of text five times before moving to the next.
b) Write from memory as much of the original and translated text as possible. Leave blank spaces on the page if you miss words or phrases. You may be surprised to find out how good your memory is!

4. MELODY:
a) Sing the melody on a neutral syllable in free rhythm omitting all dynamics, articulation markings and timbral qualities. Sing a syllable like “la,” “za,” “ah,” etc., at a comfortable dynamic: mp or mf. You are putting the pitches and intervallic leaps into your voice and on your breath. Give yourself time to incorporate this important vocal step before moving onward.
b) Sing the melody on a neutral syllable following all rhythms, rests, and articulations. Dynamics are not important yet, but the articulation markings are – they relate directly to the language and interpretation.
c) Sing the melody on its written vowels, omitting all consonants. You may need to look directly at the original text during this step: tricky! If you find any one passage difficult, go back first to intoning, then to steps 4a) and 4b). Some vowel modification may help.

5. PERFORM AS WRITTEN:
Having spent time on steps 1-4, step 5 should come easily. You may actually find that you are close to memorization by this point, as well. Continue writing your texts (with translation) as you work towards memorization!

James Alison -- We Always Start from Where We Are

On Being Liked, Chapter Four, “Creation in Christ”

James Alison realizes that many of us are seriously baffled and troubled by the story of Christian salvation that we’ve heard.

“We begin with creation and the fall, we move on to salvation, and from there to heaven.(47)” This order of events gives the impression that God created a perfect world that humans spoiled, forcing Jesus Christ to come fix everything, after which the duty to keep the world from getting spoiled again, if fulfilled, will permit humans a permanent place in heaven. This interpretation is a distortion that paralyzes us.

I consider that what is first in the order of our knowledge is an intuition of salvation, first worked out and elaborated over many centuries of ups and downs by the Jewish people, which issues forth into a very special refinement of this Jewish discovery in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. It is starting from this intuition of salvation that a critical understanding of creation was worked out, and not the other way round.

If we stay with chronological intuition (that starts with creation, etc.), we get stuck. But the world wasn’t created to be saved. Salvation created the world. Or rather, salvation CREATES the world.

This notion is wonderful enough on its own, but one of its really terrific consequences is that it puts the biblical story of creation into its proper light. In other words, it shows how pointless today’s Creation vs. Evolution debate is.

That’s my reaction, at least -- Alison might or might not like it. I hope I’m not twisting his words.

We always start from where we are. When Catholics say that God created the universe, we are not making a claim about a ‘religious’ way of describing how things came into existence… We are saying something about our contemporary wonder at the fact that they came into existence at all… We are expressing amazement at the gratuity of it all.
       This expression of amazement at the gratuity of it all is not an alternative scientific explanation of anything. It is, on the contrary, a condition of possibility for us not to be frightened of advancing as far as we possibly can in our understanding of how things came to be.
     …So we make a real mistake if we consider creation to be something which very specially has to do with the remote past… The only access we have to the past is the access for which our present understanding equips us.
     …Both the contemporary holding on to a sense of wonder or mystery that there is anything at all, and the contemporary refusal to accept specifically ‘religious’ accounts of how things came to be are central to what we are talking about when we talk about creation. And of course, the ability to do those things, to hold on to that mystery, and to refuse religious shortcuts, let alone the ability to do both of those together, are abilities which have been acquired over a long time, and have a history. (49-50)

*tap, tap...* Is this thing on?

Judging by the intermittent flow of comments arriving at this blog, a few people are actually reading what I’ve posted. This means I’d better give them something new to read.

In the news:
I voted this week. Hip, hip, hooray for the Democrats. I guess I did my part.

I’m preparing to move in with Mr. Supersweetie. At the end of the month I leave Manhattan, where I have lived ALL MY LIFE, and set sail for Astoria, Queens. The distress of leaving the borough I call home is abating little by little with the help of Mr. Supersweetie’s love. In the meantime, anyone looking for an apartment share in Manhattan should be aware that my current roommate is looking for a replacement for me. Do contact me if you might be interested.

At the moment I am devouring the books of James Alison. Any further postings here on Penguin Great Ideas and Anglo-Catholics: What they believe will have to wait because all my powers of concentration are focused at the moment on Alison’s far-reaching vision of Christianity, gayness, and human conflict. Faith Beyond Resentment was a huge eye-opener, staggering. I wanted to re-read it and ponder it and write about it, but the impulse to move on to its sequel, On Being Liked, was too great to resist. And I’m so glad I didn’t -- it’s an even better book, taking up unanswered questions posed in the previous one.

He’s so good, I’d like to give you taste. I’ll quote him in a second posting.

Don't hold, don't aim

I just read John Weir’s new novel, What I Did Wrong.

The narrator, Tom, an English Teacher at Queens College, recollects an episode from his high school days. Scared of sports, and targeted as gay, some kids beat him up after gym class. Feeling hopeless, he goes to his best friend Richie’s house. Richie, a gifted athlete, distracts Tom by teaching him how to shoot a basketball. No one ever had the patience to teach this to Tom before, so until now he has judged himself to be “pretty bad.”

“I can’t even really hold a ball. I mean, forget throwing it. Forget aiming it.” Richie offers Tom two rules: Don’t hold the ball, and don’t aim. “Can you do those two things?” Tom shoots, and the ball goes in the basket, for the first time in his life. They play for an hour practicing baskets, and about half of Tom’s shots go in. It’s a huge accomplishment.

Tom realizes this was the happiest day of his life. “I don’t want kindness, exactly, or salvation, but just a way to grasp things and how to throw them away, a mental trick: Don’t hold, don’t aim.”

Weir could have written these passages to describe my singing. Both my problems (for years, no one was able to teach me the right way, I didn’t know how to hold or let go) and the solutions (Don’t hold, don’t aim).

As I practice this week, when I remember the “Don’t hold, don’t aim” rules my singing is better, easier, and more natural than ever before. I don’t tense up, and my vocal mechanism does pretty much what it’s been trained to do, without my conscious interference (“breathe, prepare, support, find the pitch, blah, blah”). This new ease isn’t consistent yet in all the music I sing, but a sprout is taking root. To sing using a conscious mental trick like “don’t hold, don’t aim” risks being distracting. One needs to keep one’s mind on how to make music, rather than on the mechanical operations of the voice. The rules will work best when they become automatic and unconscious.

People who... whatever

At the very end of her concert at Madison Square Garden last night, Barbra Streisand sang "Just Smile" as an encore.

In ballads like this, custom permits a singer to drop out at the start of the second verse and let the music play alone until she rejoins for the final chorus. In performance, a singer like Streisand might draw the ears of the audience in closer during the pause with a brief, spoken remark intended to express something personal.

Last night, as the orchestra flowed into the second verse of "Just Smile" Streisand started to murmur a few words about the airplane accident on the East Side that had happened earlier in the day. She spoke as she went along, heartfelt and consoling, but a little aimlessly. As the music inched closer to the chorus, she suddenly ran out of time to talk and floundered, “Our hearts go out… to… all those who… whatever.”

At least I think that’s what she said. Many times in the course of the evening words were lost in the Garden’s inapt acoustic. So I may have misheard her fumbled remark. Whatever the case, I shook with the giggles all the way to the end of the song.

My favorite attraction at Madison Square Garden

Since 1994, I've been to Madison Square Garden twice. One of those times was to see Barbra Streisand live in concert. Tonight, with Mr. Supersweetie and his sister at my side, I entered the Garden a third time, to see the entertainment legend I had excitedly worshipped twelve years ago.

Streisand's voice sounds wonderful; better than I expected, possibly better than I remember in 1994. Time has given her sound a full, dusky quality and a warmth that doesn't come across in the recordings. Returning to songs she sang in the 60s, it would be natural for her to resort to lower transpositions for comfort. But I'm not sure she did. The high end of her range seems to be mostly still there, and she was often generous with it.

According to a man I chatted up on the subway ride home after the concert, Streisand's performance tonight was more exciting and better sung than Monday's. An Italian, from Arezzo, the man had travelled to New York especially to attend both of Streisand's Garden appearances this week.

Published reviews of Monday's concert lamented the weak spoken sections that moved the show along (or didn't) in between songs. I think Streisand and her staff paid attention to the press, because tonight these sections were paced well enough to end just before irritation set in. The "Happy Days Are Here Again" duet with the George Bush impersonator was thankfully cut. As for the heckler incident that made news of Monday's concert echo around the world and back a million times, Streisand offered this comment (which I quote to the best of my recollection):

"You may have heard about my outburst the other night." [laughter, applause] Well, I guess you can take the girl out of Brooklyn but you can't take Brooklyn out of the girl." [Cheering. Cue next song]

The male vocal quartet, Il Divo, a filler act who sang while Streisand went backstage to rest, was undermined by an amplification system that showed their voices to woeful disadvantage. (At least I hope the sound system was to blame.) Their stiff, off-the-shelf blocking is ripe for imitation, which I hope to do sometime with three other tenor friends of mine.

Here is a program list, reproduced from my imperfect memory. I think I've forgotten at least one song, and may have bungled the order slightly. I urge anyone who also attended the concert to post corrections and/or ammendments.

Overture -- Funny Girl (stage version)

Starting Here, Starting Now
Down with Love
The Way We Were
Come Rain or Come Shine
Ma première chanson
Evergreen (joined by Il Divo)

Unbreak My Heart (french version) -- Il Divo
Le canzon non si spiegano -- Il Divo
My Way/a mi mañera -- Il Divo

Don't Rain on My Parade
Funny Girl
Music That Makes Me Dance... My Man
People

INTERMISSION (20 min.)

Entr'acte (medley incl. Funny Girl opening credits music - film version, On a Clear Day You Can See Forever, etc.)

Passerà (?) -- Il Divo
Music of the Night -- Il Divo (joined by Streisand)

When the Sun Comes Out
Carefully Taught... Children Will Listen
In a Very Unusual Way
What Are You Doing the Rest of Your Life
Stoney End (parody version)
Happy Days are Here Again
Have I Stayed Too Long at the Fair
Cock-Eyed Optimist
My Shining Hour
(I think I've forgotten a song that came at this point)
Somewhere (joined by Il Divo)

Encores:
Until I See You Again
Don't Rain on My Parade (reprise)
Just Smile

Petty Grievance

I often notice an error from people who talk or write about my religious denomination. I urge them all to follow the guidelines below.

The noun “Episcopalian” is for people.
The adjective “Episcopal” is for things.

Ex.(a): “She’s an Episcopalian.” “The Episcopalians are out of their minds.” “Are you Episcopalian?”
Ex.(b): “The church across the street is Episcopal.” “The Episcopal service is held in the University Chapel on Tuesdays.” “He is an Episcopal priest.”

The last example shows "Episcopal" applied to a person rather than a thing. That's perfectly correct. Why? I don’t know.

Grammatically, I would say “Episcopalian” works like an adjectival noun (as in “The Texas senate”) while “Episcopal” is definitely an adjective (“Are you Texan?”). Psychologically, perhaps in some way Episcopalians regard ordained ministers -- Bishops, Priests, Deacons -- as things rather than people.

Be aware that the expression, “Episcopalian priest,” is wrong, wrong, WRONG. It's true that Episcopal priests are Episcopalians but the sentence "Episcopalian priests are Episcopal" is just a total mess.

If any of you are listening, I beg you, please follow the guidelines.

Starstruck

Today I think I saw a virtual celebrity. I'm pretty sure it was Andy, a blogger I really look up to.

We were walking in opposite directions, he with a man to whom he was talking, and I by myself, en route to a choir rehearsal. I surmised that Andy had just left Sunday morning service at his parish, the very parish I was about to enter.

Our eyes met for a moment. He may or may not have sensed that I was an admirer. I, not wanting to appear like some sort of 'autograph seeker'-type, averted my gaze and ducked into the entrance to the church house that was my destination. It wasn't the right moment to make an approach, especially since Andy was with someone.

I felt so shy. He-- a big star, and me, nobody.

Anglo-Catholics: What they believe -- II.

What is Anglo-Catholicism?

Strictly speaking, there is no such thing. But there is a thing called Catholicism, which is a way of loving God. And there are people called Anglo-Catholics; that is, Catholics who are in communion with the Anglican Church in different parts of the world. And as Anglo-Catholics are not in the least ashamed of saying that they believe their way of loving God to be the best possible way in all the circumstances, it is desirable to explain, at least in outline, the principles on which their belief rests.

I just love this.

Most people don’t know what on earth Anglo-Catholicism is. Instead of telling people I’m Anglo-Catholic, I usually just say I’m an Episcopalian, which is kind of a half-truth. Explaining what an Anglo-Catholic is comes across as complicated, or just nutty. Aren’t there enough different Christian sects? Anglo-Catholics don’t even seem to agree among ourselves what we are or should be.

I think most people only notice the word, “Catholic,” which sets their minds right away upon preconceptions of what a Roman Catholic is. So any definition of Anglo-Catholicism usually has to back-pedal from there. Being able to say, light-heartedly, “What’s an Anglo-Catholic? Nothing at all really,” would be really freeing. And to disarm Catholicism of all its baggage, calling it, “A way of loving God,” would be, well, really exciting. I guess the trick is getting people who have a reason to be skeptical about Catholicism (or God in general) to believe that the remark is true.

I don’t know whether or not Anglo-Catholics really say unashamedly that their way of loving God is the best way. Some of us do. But who knows how many of us there are that don’t. Or aren’t sure.

I feel a lot of pressure to avoid regarding any one religion as better than another. Touting one’s religion as “better” and others as “worse” is risky, even belligerent. But the pressure “to believe in something” is just as great. A personality without beliefs is weak and deficient. Simply having a viewpoint in life requires basic beliefs, religious or not. So a person must both possess and deny his or her beliefs at the same time. Is that even possible?

Anglo-Catholics: What they believe -- I.

Intro.:

I’ve just been reading a leaflet about Anglo-Catholicism. It’s a good, clear explanation of its topic. And it's as short as it could possibly be without sacrificing the basics. As I read it, I can feel myself reacting to the text in various ways, which is kind of exciting.

I should probably explain my interest in the subject. I'm an Episcopalian, baptized and confirmed as an adult, and from the beginning I have aligned myself with the Anglo-Catholic faction of my denomination. I cannot claim to be a lockstep adherent to the Anglo-Catholic movement’s precepts because, on a personal level, the intensity of my interest, devotion, and faith tends to vary. But I always regard with seriousness the faith I wish to proclaim, even if I fail to do so.

The leaflet is nearly 80 years old. But the writing style is clear and unadorned. The content avoids specific issues of its day, enabling the text to remain an accurate statement of facts, comprehensible and useful today.

The leaflet is accessible via two different links (that I know of): a parish link: the Church of the Resurrection, New York City, and an archival link: Project Canterbury.

N.B.: In acknowledgment of the work of the transcriber, Melissa Hunsberger, I will present the text in my blog, bit by bit, entry by entry, exactly as I access it from the internet, unless I lose interest and decide to stop.

Title info:

Anglo-Catholics: What they believe
By Leonard Prestige

Published for the Catholic Literature Association of the Anglo-Catholic Congress by the Society of SS. Peter & Paul, Limited, Westminster House, 8 Great Smith Street, London, S.W. I, 1927

Dropping in on the Met: Idomeneo

Idomeneo last night at the Met. Having lucked into two comps, I brought along Mr. Supersweetie.

Ben Heppner sang the title role in this opera, just as he had 15 years ago when he debuted at the Met. I had been there then, and I was glad to hear him in this role again after all this time. I love Idomeneo very much. The depth of emotion in the vocal lines and the inventiveness in the orchestral writing are miracles of art.

But Idomeneo succeeds only when all the artists involved can do the music and the drama justice. Since this is rarely the case I tend to get disappointed, but I try to stay as open as I can to whatever strengths the performers offer.

I let myself enjoy Ben Heppner’s probing gravitas and robust tone, even though Anthony Rolfe Johnson’s sturdy suppleness had so much more life and complexity when I heard him in the role. I let myself enjoy Dorothea Röschmann’s biting passion as Ilia, even though I would have preferred Hei-Kyung Hong’s soaring tenderness. I let myself enjoy Kristine Jepson’s urgent portrayal of Idamante, even though I remember Anne Sofie von Otter singing the role with ten times the depth and one tenth the effort. I let myself enjoy Olga Makarina’s gleaming virtuosity as Elettra, even though Carol Vaness used to make the character’s hammy blocking completely believable and terrifying. I let myself enjoy the nimble precision of the orchestra, even though every tempo felt weightless.

I’ve been nervous about overexposing Mr. Supersweetie to performances he’s not ready to appreciate. Since he’s used to musicals, operas are mysterious to him and hard to enjoy. I tried my best to help him along with improvised explanations of opera seria during the intermissions. Espresso, bits of chocolate, and glasses of champagne also helped the medicine go down.

Now screening

What am I excited about these days? A stack of lip-smacking DVDs from the library. NYPL's online catalog system of choosing videos and placing them on hold obviates any foreseeable need for Netflix or Kim's rental.

The stack at present is an embarassingly telling assortment: Crawford, Davis, and Garland titles, and an old BBC miniseries. Homo, homo, homo! Tonight a co-conspirator in vintage screen cackling will come over to my apartment and help me make inroads: our choices are "The Possessed," "The Letter," and "A Star is Born." I already watched Davis's "The Star" by myself (also starring Sterling Hayden and the infant Natalie Wood). It was pretty weak, to be honest.

But to me a greater treasure than any of these is the 1979 BBC video of "Pride and Prejudice," dramatized by Fay Weldon. This series aired on Masterpiece Theatre in 1980, when I watched it with my parents. It was my first exposure to the literature and costumery of the British Regency, and it changed my entire worldview. Today the dramaturgy and long-take video style of this miniseries will strike some as dated and static. But I appreaciate this approach. The subtlety of the acting and the language are permitted maximum impact.

Getting back to the homo dimension of this video...
More than anything else the wide eyes of my childhood drank in the fresh faces of the attractive cast: sweet and heavy-lidded Elizabeth Garvie as Eliza, chiseled and gorgeous David Rintoul as Darcy, and blond dreamboat Peter Settelen as Wickham. Today, decades later, I find I still have crushes on Darcy and Wikham. And a fascination with Eliza's hair and necklines.

Ferienschluß

Mr. Supersweetie and I went to Berlin, too. Now we're back in New York.

New York is so quiet right now-- summer's calm before the storm of autumn activity.

eyes on the skies

The weather in Copenhagen tends to be rainy.

According to Mr. Supersweetie, the skies often clear in the afternoon. Yesterday afternoon a rainbow formed. I noticed it as I entered the Kongens Have.



I had to hold the package of toilet paper I'd just bought between my knees as I held the camera to take this photo.

Unterwegs mit Käseblatt

I arrived in Copenhagen yesterday. Mr. Supersweetie has been here all summer long, studying furniture design which relates to what he studies at home in NY during the year: interior design. His assignment at the Copenhagen program has been to design and build a chair. Here, in the cradle of modern furniture design!

When I arrived, Mr. S took me to the design school to see the chair he built. It's an armless reading chair with a seat that arcs in a large, wide curve uninterruped down to the floor. The legs are delineated by a little semicircular cutout. It's all veneer except for four brass bolts joining the back panel to the seat. Quite comfortable-- although I'd like to sit and read in it for awhile to see how the body reacts over time. Mr. S is wiped out and dazed from his final week of hard work, but I'm happy to be with him. I've missed him very much.

The apartment he shares with three other students is on the top storey (5th) of a modest building a little north of the city center, in the area around the Kastellet (a park with a military installation in it) and the Amalienborg (the royal palace). The apartment is furnished but simple. Thankfully, the kitchen has all the necessities.

My big adventure this morning was baking some frozen rolls in the oven. The instructions on the wrapping, like on everything else, were only in Swedish, Danish, Norwegian and Finnish. Comprehending about half of the text, thanks to my ability to cross-reference it with the German I know, I resorted to the "cook till it's done" method, which worked just fine.

So, Copey is a very pretty city. Kind of quiet, kind of busy. The streetscapes veer predominantly towards the baroque and later. In the city center, curvy, narrow streets open onto squares frequently so there's a steady rhythm of dense streets and open areas. Canals pop into view here and there. Moving out from the center, the streets are a bit wider and straighter. I'm trying to decide how to describe this city in comparison to others. I guess it's closest to Amsterdam in scale, but with more sizeable buildings. Also more stone and stucco, less naked brick.

I have nothing particular to do, so I'm just walking and looking around. I went into a bunch of churches. Knowing today to be the Feast of the Assumption, I thought a Roman Catholic church might be relied upon to have some sort of big, public mass. But, alas, Denmark is not Portugal, and I found no special celebration scheduled. There's a concert at the Tivoli concert hall tonight with Rolando Villazon -- sold out, of course. I'll go to an organ recital instead.

Must remember to buy toilet paper. Isn't foreign travel exciting?