The International Orch Dork

     Though I am continuing to travel around and explore amazing sights over my year here, I have settled down in Belgium.  The beginning of school means I can officially say the vacation period of my stay has worn-off.  In the materials that I was asked to read and by the discussions during outbound training in Charleston, the period as a house guest as opposed to another contributing member home was explained as normal, but not permanent.  I think this is where the difference between a short-term and a long-term exchange is the greatest, because the people I'm interacting with are not temporary players.  I will be here for one year, and using the frequency of community events and amount of times I see people while walking through a small town on my way to school, there is no physical way I can't make connections with others. Yes, even with a language barrier that is diminishing at a agonizingly variable rate.*

   I've been in the wonderful land of Belgium for over a month, and it's lovely, fantastic, absolutely brilliant, and not the exact way I'm used to living.  Without being homesick (sorry, parents, this is nothing against you-love you both!) there has been a lot of change and quick adaptation.  When I was thinking about doing an exchange, there was one class I was regretful about missing during my final year of high school.  Beginning my days in Chamber Orchestra kept my head on straight (and not exploding!) while preparing me for the rest of the A-days when I had my AP courses.  From the time I began learning how to play the Viola from Mrs. Parvin in fifth grade, Strings class quickly became a beloved ritualistic part of my school schedule.  For seven years, I've been sick of practicing Christmas music by October but whipped into shape to play by December due to that brilliantly wise, stubborn woman.  I admire her greatly for bravely accepting the responsibility the instruction of children-and taller, more hormonal children- at the middle and high school, because I'll go off in a foreign country for a year before I even attempt her job.  She's my other mother, superwoman to her students, and one of my greatest supporters in all that I do.  I always knew I would miss her class the time came for me to take the proverbial final bow.  With school starting in Belgium, I had prepared myself for not having a music class, and not being a part of a mysterious family known as an orchestra.

   I firmly believe music is it's own language. On Tuesdays, I'm putting my other communication skills to the test.

   My host parents were extremely kind to lease a Viola for my use during this year after I realized my instrument could not travel on the plane to Belgium.  Thanks to the friends of my host parents, I was invited to play with a community Orchestra in France and had a fantastic evening!  The largest orchestra I've ever played with would be at All-County, where violin, viola, cello and bass players who qualify from schools in Oconee County play together in a one night concert every year.  I have never played with anything approaching a full Orchestra, which include different families than just stringed instruments, before.  Hearing the woodwinds, drums, and other musicians play with the strings section gave me chills.

   The conductor spoke French (in France, can you imagine?) but I remembered the musical terms and was able to follow those directions.  However, it gave me a quick crash course in numbers and arrangements when I realized I didn't know them quite as well as I thought I did.  The beauty of the piece is much easier for the ear to capture when the viola actually starts at the same place with the rest of the orchestra.  Even if I was seeing the music for the first time, and even if it took me a few measures (ahem, sometimes bars, usually incorrectly) to join in, it was still a rush I didn't know I was missing.  By some oversight or miracle, I was invited back to play with them on Tuesday nights.

   I could easily wax poetic about the moving power of music, as much better writers and musicians have done before.  However, I won't do the euphoria from creating a living piece of art justice, so this is my first chance to invoke the use of the international exchange student slogan.  It was repeated to me countless times in preparation, and this is my first chance to try it out myself.

   Well, I guess you had to be there.

   In all seriousness, there is a connection between musicians who are working together to bring life to a masterpiece of music.  That transcends cultures, countries, and continents.  It felt excellent be doing something I felt was completely understood.  For two hours, I was playing with total strangers in France,  but completely in my comfort zone.  The exchange pushes so many boundaries mentally and blurs perceptions, though I understand that is one benefit of an exchange.  I'm not advocating being a recluse or creating a comfort zone, because it's only a cage stifling personal growth.  However, for a night, I was expressing myself (almost) perfectly again, and while showing an art that matters to me with people who cared about music, too.  Honestly, I think my ease of transition is partially due to the outlet playing provides.  Once again, through practice and sharing in the community of players, music keeps me sane.

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*A quick diatribe on my French progress:  There are days where I make leaps and bounds in comprehension of French, but then there's the day where my skull has been filled with so much information in a strict capacity the mass collapses into a swirling black hole of absolutely nothing and my body is plotting my next position for a nap while my mind remains a dark void.  I was told this was typical while being immersed in a new language.  As far as progress goes, my first week was spent trying to match the little I knew with what I heard, which was difficult because I a) knew less than the very little I thought I did and b) have a not-quite-as-charming-anymore southern accent which wasn't corrected when I was read the words to myself while studying in SC.  The next two weeks were spent trying to understand what the words people were saying actually were (don't laugh until you've experienced a conversation where it's correct and expected for the words to blend together thanks to a French frienemy called a liaison) which changed sometime in week four.  At this point, I recognize what the words are when they are said, and quickly recognize the ones I know,  along with others I've heard before to try to discover (and probably be wrong about) the context.  While my thoughts aren't in French yet, my writing style has changed, as well as the patterns of my thoughts.  The time it takes me to translate French to English in my head and then English to French in order to respond is still long, but noticeably shorter every week.  It isn't necessary with very, very simple questions, either.  I am making progress when I'm not sleeping!