Ein Nachmittag in Jena

Andy usually teaches from 1 to 3 PM, but today the teacher of the class immediately before his needed to cancel, so he moved his class to 11 AM. As soon as he returned home, we walked out the door again to the Hauptbahnhof and headed to nearby Jena for the afternoon. The main point of the trip was to see the Jenaer Philharmoniker in concert in the evening, so we had to amuse ourselves for several hours in the meantime.

I get so turned around on the streets here. Nothing is laid out in a grid, which is fine, but the streets change names every couple of blocks, and sometimes when this happens, the old street name will continue around the corner on a different street. Our guidebook maps aren't particularly detailed, so until we can get to the visitor center to find a better map, we have to stop every block to make sure we're going the right direction. I really hate looking like a tourist, and Andy can tell you from multiple previous experiences that I will charge on ahead, wrong direction notwithstanding, rather than pull out my map on a busy street. I am working on this.

We found the tourist center and had a successful conversation with the teller to buy our concert tickets. Then we headed across the Platz to St. Michael's church. Here you can see Martin Luther's tombstone. Sorry it's so dark--I wasn't sure if it was okay to use the flash in the church or not.


Luther, however, is NOT buried here--he's in Wittenberg. The tombstone in Wittenberg is a copy of this, I think--apparently there was some kind of "trouble" when shipping it and the Wittenbergers are still a bit sore about it. We listened for a while to the organist rehearsing for his concert tonight (not the one we went to).

The day was cool and misty. It's actually been like that so far all week, and I feel like I've rarely gone out of the house; when I do I just want to go back inside. Andy, ever cheerful, holds my umbrella so I can take silly pictures. So much for not looking like a tourist.



Next we visited the Optisches Museum, which focuses on the history of all sorts of optical instruments: eyeglasses, telescopes, microscopes, camera lenses, etc. Jena is known as the home of Carl Zeiss, who, like, invented all these things and stuff. Not exactly, but you should read about him.

Jena is a university town, like Weimar, but it definitely has a more cosmopolitan feel. We wandered along the Wagnergasse and found a small shop for coffee, in an attempt to burn some time before the concert and not be out in the drizzle. The girl behind the counter tried to give us a frequent customer card, and we had an ensuing conversation about why we didn't need one and where we were from and what we were doing in Germany. She told me that I spoke very well, and I have to admit that I'm feeling pretty proud about that. I do feel like my comprehension is getting a tiny bit better. I've started to think it's worthwhile to ask people to repeat themselves because I might actually understand them the second time around. Most of these exchanges, though, are small ones in restaurants, etc., so I have a long way to go before I can hold a real conversation.

Here's me on Wagnergasse:



We found Cheers. Nobody knew our names.



We hung out in the central plaza for a while because there was a carnival going on with lots of rides and games, and of course, beer and bratwurst.



We didn't do any of the rides, but watched a Russian ska band run through its sound check, and enjoyed the universality of human behaviour, i.e. people who drink too much and engage unwitting strangers in long-winded and one-sided conversations about uninteresting subjects, and children who can't stop chasing pigeons that always stay just out of reach.

Here's the clock tower on the Rathaus. The devil comes out every hour to chase the golden ball (just over the clock face) that signifies the human soul. Hmm. My watch just tells time.



The main event was the Jenaer Philharmoniker concert, which we thoroughly enjoyed. The program was a Haydn symphony (sorry Haydn, we didn't buy a program and I've already forgotten which one), Bartok Violin Concerto No. 1, and Mozart Prague Symphony. Before the concert, Andy posed for a picture with Wilhelm Furtwängler.



The orchestra was really good, if I can put it simply. The hall isn't a very forgiving one: you can hear absolutely everything from each member of the orchestra, so anything that isn't exactly together is very obvious. But not to worry--the strings were clean and sparkling in the Mozart, and the violin soloist in the Bartok had a strong, powerful sound.



I've been to two orchestra concerts since I've been here, and I could make a couple of generalizations about both sides of participation in the events. One, every orchestra member seems committed to the music, to all the notes and the phrasing, and they all look like they enjoy themselves immensely while playing. I admire this commitment, and it's something I aspire to myself. Second, the audience has a different appreciation for what they're hearing. It's a subtle thing, but often I feel as if audiences in the U.S. are clapping because the music is over and that's the time when you clap. If they didn't dislike it, they give it a standing ovation. Neither the audience in Jena nor in Leipzig gave a standing ovation, but you can hear how much they like it in the applause. I know that sounds weird. But just think about the difference between polite golf claps and thunderous applause, and imagine some nuance in the middle. So far here, the audiences give hearty applause that goes on and on and on with multiple curtain calls. As a performer, I would take that any day over a standing ovation with the audience in the aisle the second you're off stage.