Both Sides Now: A Throwback to Prague

Seventeen days ago, we set out to cross the border into the Czech Republic, each of us looking like our own pack mules. It is not the easiest to travel with a backpack the size of my own torso, but the train had a comfy atmosphere. The window seat provided me with a glimpse into the shifting landscape, the Vienna scenery drifting away and the rugged hills with small cottage-like homes emerging. The rural land was decorated with colorful clothes pinned up on lines stretching from tree to tree. Linens and tree bows lightly danced in the wind as the train passed by, rustling the quiet town only for a moment that became blurred by the speed. It was a peaceful experience to rest my head against the glass, imagining the lives of those who lived in the places tucked in-between the hillsides, hidden from the bustle of the city that we would soon approach. Caroline sat next to me with her classical guitar tucked under her arm as she started to strum the chords to Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock,” which created a beautiful backdrop to the incredible scenery I was lucky enough to become lost in. We gushed about our love for Joni’s musical genius, and sang covers (hence the song reference in this title).  Dr. Powell stopped by, commenting that our train car was the “party car,” because of the music, and he even played about three chords before checking on the other students. I would not quite describe the ride as a party, but it certainly was fun when Caroline and I took turns playing folk music. We made up our own songs, and pretended we were on a tour bus with our make-believe band, while most everyone else rested their eyes and dozed off for a little while.

Dr. Powell rocking out on guitar

The same night, we made our way over the beautiful Charles Bridge, admiring the elaborate architecture emphasized by glowing lights that could have tricked anyone into thinking they were in a fairytale. It was time to see the Czech Philharmonic at the Rudolfinium, which was only a short walk from the end of the bridge. However, a few of us were stopped by a “bird-man,” who had trained fancy, fluffy white pigeons to sit on those who were willing to participate. Caroline had four birds on her outstretched arms as I took the photos, knowing it would be an amazing opportunity for a blog post. The man started speaking in Czech, encouraging me to have the birds on my arm. I was hesitant, because first of all, I was uncertain if it would cost money, and second of all, I did NOT want to be pooped on before the orchestra concert! Standing there, not sure of what to do, the birds kept multiplying on my arm in each photo, until the final one was placed on the top my head. We later laughed at the photos, as it was obvious I was too cautious to move an inch of my body or face, and the only thing that seemed to change in the pictures were the amount of birds.

Bird Progression

We hurried to the Rudolfinium, and took our seats inside the gorgeous building. I still would consider this concert to be my favorite on the trip, as I was the most engaged during the entire performance. It seemed so different from the concerts in Vienna, in which I usually found myself zoning out, almost on the brink of dozing off. The first thing that I noticed was that this orchestra had much more female performers: 14 in total. I observed the way all of the musicians were dressed, their body language, facial expressions and overall how they engaged with each of the pieces they played. One violinist had fiery red hair, another was wearing a black patterned-off the shoulder gown, and a cello player sported a bold fohawk. I suppose I was used to performers wearing the exact same clothing, but it was refreshing to see the musicians incorporating their individual styles to spice up the all-black required attire. Before, most of the other orchestras had a very serious feeling to how they engaged with the music, but the musicians in this concert seemed to be having fun and were more fluid with their expressivity. I was drawn in by the flurried movements of the strings, the strong sounds of the French horns, and especially the complexity and loudness of the piccolo parts. It almost seemed as if each instrument had a solo, which made it easier for me to focus on each instrument and what they contributed to the overall sound. The strange note combinations were grandiose and chaotic in the most unnerving and beautifully odd way, keeping me on the edge of my seat throughout the show. Awestruck, I did not want the concert to end. When it did, I was charmed by the way the conductor gave the female performers the flowers out of the bouquet he received. I laughed when he ran out of flowers, only left to give one of the musicians a little green fern instead.