Not long after tramp1 left to return to the cold and rainy weather of the Hague, it was time for the second session of the summer Schubertiade to begin. The tramp and I had originally planned to be in Italy by this time but had been persuaded by the friends who introduced us to the Schubertiade last year to return when they were. The first session had been so outstanding, the walking so wonderful and the weather, on the whole, so fine that it didn’t take much to do the trick: master classes with Peter Schreier, a few concerts by Goerne, Lott and Bostridge and we had decided to stay. Now the event was upon us and logistics loomed large: how could we maintain our compelling hiking and gym routines with Peter Schreier master classes every day from 10am – 2pm? (as it turned out he decided that 10am-1pm was adequate – it is amazing how much of a difference that hour made!), concerts in the evening, and the need to meet up with our friends? Our perfect schedule was being eroded, not to say downright destroyed, by one of the main purposes of our wandering life. But the challenge of life, as always, is to reconcile the irreconcilable.
The first week was not too taxing (since the master classes didn’t begin until the second) and even though lunches were often very late (I do call 4pm late) on hiking days, on gym days they were at a quite reasonable time (if one considers, and many let’s face it wouldn’t, 2pm reasonable). This meant, of course, that inviting our friends to lunch at the WLW (which we clearly had to do since the husband was desperate to inspect the WLW and the wife was more than a tad curious) would require the date to be a gym day. No one, not even the tramp, would reasonably expect other people to fit into our unreasonable schedule! As it transpired our friends were following a not totally dissimilar approach and often having late lunches or early suppers. We decided on 1pm on the day of the Felicity Lott concert (which was at 4pm). They could come dressed for the concert and we could all leave directly after lunch, and if we had supper with FL after the concert, an irresistible prospect, well, at least it wouldn’t finish at midnight!
The WLW can seat 4 at the (extendable) dining room table and the tramp, afraid that it would be impossible to eat al fresco (as we do every meal) if the weather was foul (which it is every third day), duly experimented with extending the table and swivelling the driver’s seat around. We have never had to do these things as social life in the WLW has been non-existent (though social life outside has been more than satisfactory). The tramp had no difficulty with the table. It extended quite easily and he was feeling quite confident. The driver’s seat on the other hand proved quite challenging, not to say impossible: the steering wheel kept getting in the way. The manual offered no solution. Clearly the steering wheel could not be removed without prejudicing the real purpose of the WLW. A quick call to the factory and the problem was solved (a bit like moving the goose, the fox and whatever the other animal was on a raft that only held two, it required several manoeuvres which were not obvious but which cumulatively worked). Of course, the ever sensitive tramp then became worried about the placement since it was clear that certain positions were better than others and at the same time the trampess had to be near the kitchen (without having to climb over one of the guests). By now you will have concluded that between the tramp’s great logistical brain and the trampess’s blondeness, even that worrisome problem was solved, and a placement agreed.
As it happened,God was on our side the day of the lunch, and the formidable due diligence exercised by the tramp the previous afternoon was not needed: the sun was glorious and al fresco dining was on the cards. Except of course for the problem of seating. While we have two wonderful, comfortable chairs which would clearly go to the guests and two stools comfortable enough for us (which have lids that convert them into side tables), it became clear to the tramp that the two stools would have to be used as side tables as there simply wasn’t enough room on the table for four place settings and food. It would be unthinkable to eliminate either. It was also clearly unacceptable, according to the tramp, to keep the food in the kitchen and have the trampess running in and out. What to do? The trampess broke off from her food preparation and dashed in to Frau Albrecht (she who solves all problems) and asked to borrow two chairs. Not a problem. The trampess carried two wooden chairs from the camper’s breakfast room to the WLW. A bit later Frau Albrecht turned up with two garden chairs with cushions – even better. The tramp returned the wooden chairs and the trampess continued to prepare lunch.
The tramp had approved the menu (tramp1’s favourite chicken dish, ratatouille, and lentils with garlic and ginger, with Stippmilch and rote Gruetze for pudding), but now he was beginning to panic: shouldn’t there be a first course? Our guests always had a big salad at their hotel before dinner; shouldn’t we have salad as a starter? And what plates would we use for each course? The tramp insisted that one could not have the salad on the dinner plate. The trampess, now moving into high gear (and not even dressed yet!), replied we would use small plates for salad, dinner plates for lunch, and porridge bowls for pudding, but we could not have separate forks for the salad unless we washed forks in between courses. Also, despite all efforts to find additional wine glasses the previous day (wine glasses could be found but none that matched the existing or, indeed, more importantly, could be stored safely in the WLW), none were found. The tramp agreed that the guests would have the 2 glasses we had and the trampess would use a second small water glass. The tramp set a perfect table - nearly there!
The guests arrived on time and as the trampess dressed the salad the tramp took them on a tour of the WLW. Now you might think that a tour of a vehicle 7.5m long and 2 1/2m wide could not possibly take very long, but you would be wrong. Two self-confessed anoraks and a willing female can get quite absorbed in the how it works and where are all the water tanks, and how much do they hold, and how long does that sustain life (all of which is part of the external tour) before one even moves inside to the wow, a real bathroom, my goodness what a big bed, good heavens is that the guest bedroom, satellite television, no kidding stage. Notwithstanding, the trampess didn’t quite manage to change for lunch (ratatouille is too dangerous when washing and ironing are a major undertaking and dressing while the external tour was on was cutting it a bit fine – one never knows how long even anoraks will take and it isn’t as though the bathroom/dressing room is more than a few inches from the kitchen or for that matter the front/only door. Eventually, we sat down outside with our splendid views of meadow, chickens ranging freely, mountains and brook. The two wine glasses and extra water glass were quickly removed from the table as the friends have a no wine before 7pm policy. Having seen the kitchen, the friends were astonished with the variety of dishes the trampess was able to produce for one meal (it is an art learning to cook on 3 small burners – the constraint being less on the side of 3 and more on the side of small – especially for more than 2 people since the pots are small to match the burners; part of the solution, of course, was to make the ratatouille the day before and the rote Gruetze in the morning - before going to the gym but critically after breakfast when that pot was needed). The tramp winked at the trampess – a thumbs up for her culinary efforts. The trampess always loves a good wink. – especially when the pre-prandial angst is high. It seems that the rote Gruetze was particularly successful (the wife volunteered that her husband would do almost anything for cooked berries and that probably he wouldn’t want to leave – ever) - especially rewarding since the thought of making a nemesis in the rather primitive oven is not one the trampess has entertained (although this does seem rather wimpish since she remembers a perfect chocolate cake made by sherpas over an open fire when trekking in the Himalayas)!
When seconds on pudding were being willing accepted, the Gamin was brought out. The Gamin? Dear reader, you will remember one of the first adventures with the WLW was in Cologne, where the WLW had to be de-coupled from the Smart and abandoned owing to an illegally parked BMW blocking a one way street after which the tramp spent HOURS studying and buying a hand held GPS system for climbing the mountains in all of Europe. The interest in such a device came from the fellow anorak (hereinafter referred to as FA) now sitting at our lunch table. Oohs and aahs and how long does the battery last, do you have a full colour screen etc followed. The tramp confessed that actually he hadn’t learned how to use it yet. FA offered to take it away for the night, study the difference between his (an earlier model) and install the grid (installing the grid is apparently very important because while you would think that the Greenwich meridian was the starting point for all cartography it isn’t. Most countries in Europe have their own systems and this can be a nightmare if one doesn’t overlay the maps which had been uploaded with “the” grid), and then give the tramp a quick lesson in usage over dinner a few nights hence. The tramp was, needless to say, extremely grateful for the offer and immediately handed over a sack full of equipment and manuals. Meanwhile the trampess put on the espresso. After coffee and the ritual dark chocolate we all tumbled happily (well in the case of the trampess after a quick change, too) into our cars and drove off to hear the wonderful Lott. Supper followed at the Adler (all the best hotels in Germany and Austria are either called Hirsch or Adler; both exist in Schwarzenberg and both have excellent restaurants. Funny how no one ever calls an hotel Fisch or Maus.) and this time the meal began with a glass of champagne. One waits, and one is rewarded.
The following week was the challenging one: classes from morning to early afternoon and the occasional evening concert (perhaps more than occasional if the waitlist tickets came through) and the refusal to give up the hard physical exercise. The first thing that had to go, clearly, was a cooked lunch at any time a normal human being would call lunch time. At the same time, food was necessary. Not eating is no way to maintain the body or lose weight. And of course, one has to observe the rule: breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince, and dinner like a pauper (which in our case means no dinners after the evening concert – though clearly that rule was going to be broken with friends in town. Society corrupts and good society corrupts the most). Breakfasts became, if they were not already, very king like (no fish or game you understand but plenty of the rest). The tramp and trampess arrived at the morning master class fully sated and ready to learn vicariously through the students. At the 10 minute break, variously at 12 or 11:30, the tramp cried, “Nuts!” and the trampess dutifully reached into her bag and pulled out the morning’s ration. After silent munching, the tramp might make a few salient comments on the singing so far and Schreier’s approach to teaching before crying out again, “Chocolate??!” The trampess once again dived into the bag and pulled out pudding. When the class ended the tramps bolted for the door, jumped into the Smart and drove off – either to the mountains or to the gym. Often they did not arrive back until 4 or 5pm. At this point one could only hold on and have a proper meal at 6. Of course, it broke the rule of dining like a pauper but since dinner was followed by a concert and bed was inevitably 10 or 11, it did at least maintain the principle of not eating close to bedtime.
By the end of the week it was clear, though, that this was a very demanding schedule. The master classes were intense and even the evening concerts, which normally one would consider pure joy, were demanding since one needs to study and understand the text of the lieder (easier for the tramp than the trampess: Schwarzenberg is not Salzburg and the text provided in the programme was only in the original German. The trampess’s pocket dictionary does not extend to the poetic vocabulary of the average Schubert lied and while the better know cycles are well known to her, the lesser ones are not. I can assure you that most concerts this week were not well known cycles! With the exception of Pregardien singing Die Schoene Muellerin – an evening that was truly one of the most magnificent and shattered the tramp’s long held conviction that tenors could not sing lieder. Ian Bostridge helped in this regard, too). At the end of the week the tramp declared that perhaps one day a week should be a day of rest. A positively Biblical conclusion!
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