Tough Love, Good Music and Fine Friends

The second half of the Schubertiade began for us with – yes you guessed it – early morning master classes, voice only. Only a day’s drive from Verbier, but like crossing the Continental Divide culturally. The class has 5 students, all sopranos, of which 1 was Austrian, 2 German, 1 Texan (a former blues and R&R singer – let’s not call Austria culturally prejudiced!) and 1 Japanese. The master is Edith Mathis and she is a master (even with only half a voice – she is in her 70’s - you can see that she had the musical fluidity of Schwarzkopf), though she looks like a rather old-fashioned school teacher (slim, very erect, neatly but not remarkably dressed, no make-up – not a glamorous Kiri - and with glasses on a cord and pencil in hand). The students all dressed well, do not drink on stage (every 3 seconds in Verbier the students were guzzling water as if their vocal chords need lubrication from the outside not the inside!), have prepared (music and text) their pieces (our young Verbier singers were struggling with both text and music and constantly checked the score – not good)– copies of which are given to the master and the pianist (who is very good); they work solidly for the 1/2hr+ they are on stage every day, no giggling, joking or horsing around or playing for sympathy from the audience (not that they would get it from this very serious audience, all of whom have paid to attend and all of whom have arrived before class begins). At the end of their work session, EM summarises the important points and then hands back their copies of the score with her notes written on them to help them remember her comments.

The tramp is missing a baritone in the group (he gets tired of sopranos, and baritones, let’s face it, are easy listening) but is very impressed at the quality of the voices (not a shrill soprano in the group), their hard work, and EM’s obvious mastery. The fun is in the mastery, not in fooling around on stage. They clearly are enjoying the work and benefiting from it. No doubt at Verbier they would find the regime here very tough love but your trampess predicts that at the end of the week there will be 5 very happy, much improved voices throwing bouquets at Fr Mathis. Clearly the audience, which is largely ancient (I think we bring the average age down but there are a few young people in the crowd and the room is filled) approves. The only difficulty with these classes is their start time, which interferes with our morning hikes. The second day, the tramp got up early and hiked before breakfast so he could get in his exercise and we’d still make the 10am class. Your trampess woke a bit later (it is well known that sleep is very restorative to the body and very important, and one should not be artificially awakened if at all possible – please refer to the Stanford sleep guru and to Canyon Ranch if you need independent evidence and do not take your trampess’s word for it) and started preparing lunch so that when we got home at 1:15 we could eat. A timely and well-fed tramp is a happy tramp (and one whose natural instinct to wake a sleeping body as early as 5:30am is more naturally disposed to letting a sleeping trampess lie when he knows it might result in a later, bigger benefit – it has taken a number of years to reach this level of understanding, do not despair if you do not achieve the same results immediately).

On Sunday with no classes, your trampess had a nice long hike - though she pegged it as our host relayed that there would be a mass at 11am on the mountain for the mountain rescue service of which he is a stalwart member. Naturally, as the Catholic in the family your trampess had to be there (and this being Austria, where even the village churches hold hundreds and are full, it pays to attend just to assure the natives one is part of the community). It was enchanting – I sat on my little Mamut inflatable cushion (they had run out of pews – and I thought that the few seats left should be for the truly elderly or infirm). One horn and one trumpet for music (beautifully played), the priest even had a microphone, and afterwards there were sausages and rolls for everyone (it looked a little like the multiplication of the loaves and fishes!) – your trampess left at this point (hot dogs and white rolls not being my idea of a healthy meal – not to mention the hungry tramp left behind!) to make a greener lunch for the home team. The tramp had hiked up the short way direct to the bergbahn so missed the mass (as he intended!) and was down by noon.
The next evening English friends came to dinner and it seems I must have been only 10 minutes behind them on the trail up the mountain – they had hiked right past where I sat for mass some few minutes later. They wondered what was going on (mass hadn’t started yet so it was not completely obvious just what kind of gathering it was – what with everyone in hiking clothes and a table of food and drink set up) but didn’t stay to find out. My three course vegan dinner ended with a Rote Grueze (one of the tramp’s favourites – and as it transpired one of our guest’s favourites as well). Your trampess may be making some converts to the plant food diet – remarkably none of our guests seem to be disappointed in the lack of animal protein on their plate (of course they are all terribly polite and wouldn’t say, “so where’s the meat?” but invitations are readily accepted for a second time, plates are cleaned and faces are smiling) and many remark how much better they feel after a lighter but filling meal. Having solved most of the problems of the world (which at the moment seem to be rather many), we arranged to meet again for dinner before a late evening concert later in the week at a restaurant in Schwarzenberg. While trying to keep to a vegan diet in a Swiss restaurant was nigh on impossible (unless one stuck to plain pasta or boiled potatoes with carrots – yuck! What do they think? That just because I don’t eat meat I have no taste??), it transpires that the Austrians are much more inventive (it must be that old Gemuetlichkeit). So when we turned up at the Adler in Schwarzenberg, we were even asked if we were vegetarian or vegan! Wonderful things started to appear (especially, it has to be said, for your trampess as being her father’s daughter she is a real mushroom eater – and Pfifferlinge are in season) and even the tramp agreed (reluctantly as he likes to keep the trampess in the kitchen) that we ate well without going off-piste.

By the end of the week, your trampess was officially master classed out. Although if Fischer-Dieskau had not cancelled due to infirmity she would have managed to find a second wind for a second week (perhaps including baritones!). The concerts were a pleasure, and I can say conclusively that the tramps will go to any concert by Pregardien or Bostridge. Pregardien’s Erlkoenig was the best we have ever heard (it is not my favourite poem but I have to admit that he was outstanding so I had to love it despite myself). Bostridge’s Winterreise was simply the best ever. Werner Guera on the other hand, whom we heard for the first time, did not add anything to the understanding of die Schoene Muellerin. He has a nice enough voice and seems to be a rather sweet person but reading every word of the rant of der Jaeger does rather diminish the impact of the song (not to mention the music stand often obscuring his face – and therefore expression). What is it with these guys (Quasthoff has been doing it, too, lately) that they don’t even know the words of DSM which, let’s face it, must be entry level Schubert for a lieder singer??? Pregardien gave a much more diverse, obscure and demanding programme and he had no music stand for the text. Is your trampess just turning into a grumpy old woman or is it not unacceptable to give a lieder concert standing behind a music stand????

Master classes finished, the tramps could follow their usual routine of morning hikes – though with the tramp feeling stronger and more energetic the one day up, one day off has been modified and now the pattern is one day up, one day a valley walk (less demanding than 1,000 vertical metres). Your trampess did persuade her tramp though to hike from Mellau to Bizau to the famous Schwanen restaurant – you may remember the famous Schwanen (very well reviewed in the Gault-Millau) as the cook is the keeper of the culinary art of Hildegard von Bingen (the famous 11/12th century abbess, composer of sacred music – still played in the Farm Street Church and no doubt others – and herbal expert, not to mention saint who lived to her nineties – 3 lifetimes in those days, so definitely a woman to be reckoned with as is, indeed, her latter day Austrian acolyte). She may be versed in ancient arts but Antonia does have a very up to date website on which your trampess discovered that she offers special fasting days (imagine going to a restaurant to fast! – well it is also a hotel so perhaps the concept is not quite as outrageous as stone soup) and of course detox days which invariable focus on – yes, you guessed it – a vegetable diet heavy on nutrient rich but calorie light foods. Just the ticket. Your trampess emailed a request for a vegetable meal, received a positive reply, made a reservation and soon the tramps were hiking over the mountain and through the woods . . .

In order to look reasonable for lunch (though one can show up in smart restaurants in full hiking gear) your trampess wore a rather fetching (but informal) pale grey knit dress (scoop neck, sleeveless and a long balloon skirt with big belt) but what to do on the feet???? Solution came in the form of the famous five finger running shoes – a lighter Mary Jane style in pink and pale grey. What could be chicer? (the same outfit in Verbier met with mixed reception – everyone liked the dress and some thought the shoes so crazy as to be adorable; others, well, let’s just say I had to flash Manolo’s at the next concert to redeem myself). While the running shoes weren’t quite as good on the stony paths as the hiking version, they saw your trampess through and after the 1 ½ hour walk, she and the tramp were ready for a culinary treat. We were not disappointed! Course after course arrived and all delicious (though again it must be said that the tramp’s unfortunate allergy to mushrooms left him slightly disadvantaged but then Antonia took pity on him and gave him seconds to make sure he had had enough to eat! One could get used to Austrian hospitality – or perhaps our Antonia is also aspiring to sainthood). The tramps did go off-piste ever so slightly when it came to pudding (the only real piste choice being sorbet which is about as sugar intense as it comes, short of eating pure sugar). The tramp found a pineapple crumble irresistible and the trampess could not say no to an elderberry compote with Himmelschuesseleis (I mean, offered ice cream made of the keys to heaven, could you?). Luckily we had the reverse hike to reach home so the major meal and minor breach of the no sugar, no dairy rule proved to have no damaging effect on the scale the next morning. Perfection.