Haida Gwaii

I am the luckiest person alive (with some exceptions). Scarcely back from New York and I am now on a completely different type of adventure. My father is teaching a forest ecology class this week in Haida Gwaii and I am attending the class too. I am so excited not only to be here in Haida Gwaii, a group of islands praised for their majestic beauty, but to also learn about one of my favorite subjects: temperate rainforest ecosystems.

The islands are beautiful: they are frequently silhouetted against the pale sky and each landform is dramatic in its shape and texture. Some parts appear sharp and pointy from the thick forest, other parts look shaven, or slightly fuzzy like a five o’clock shadow. The shaved islands are clear-cuts.

So far, no rain, what type of rainforest is this?

 

Carnegie Hall!

Imagine singing in a place where a single chord echoes like the tone in a bell. Imagine playing the same piano as the best musicians of this century. Imagine, our little high school choir sang at the best-known and most mythical stage in North America.

So, how do you get to Carnegie hall?
Practice, Practice, or be a genius! – Well, in our case we had been practicing since the fall to understand the meaning behind our repertoire and to sing it with beauty and feeling.

The view from the stage was utterly magnificent. The trim was all done in gold leaf, which contrasted nicely with the cream walls. A circular crystal chandelier dominated the ceiling but I don’t think it actually gave much light. The experience was surreal; I felt like we were singing in another century. Because of the preparation, hype and mystic of the hall, I have never felt so connected to our music. Mr. Lee, our conductor, directed us with many eloquent pauses allowing our chords to ring out across the hall. In those pauses, we could hear ourselves sing. And the power! The acoustics there make you feel as if anything is possible—flight, calculus, or brilliant solos. Singing at Carnegie was a spectacular experience.

More Impressions

I am on Spring Break this week and am letting all the stress of my last year at high school drain out from my forehead wrinkles. I am skiing every other day, reading escapist novels, sleeping late, and eating cookies. When I can muster enough energy, I am working on my French reading comprehension by reading “Le Petit Prince” and finishing some applications to UBC.

My trip to New York now seems like another lifetime. The rush, chaos and cacophony of life in New York was very different than any city experience I had ever experienced. Gastown, Vancouver’s historical center, is only several blocks long compared to the kilometers of historical buildings in Manhattan. In Vancouver, one will hear English and maybe one or two Asian languages. In New York, walking in Times Square I could hear French, English, Spanish, and a multitude of exotic accents.

Whenever I travel to the States, I am never prepared for the vast cultural differences. I know logically that Canada and the US have different politics, history and ideals, but I always expect them just to be a slightly more conservative Canada.

My expectations couldn’t have been more off about New York. I am a good Canadian, so naturally if I bump into someone, I apologize immediately. I will apologize even if I haven’t touched them. However, my apologies in New York were treated with indifference, bemusement, puzzlement, and sometimes a glare. Once when I was walking with my suitcase, a man ran into me and knocked my suitcase over. Logically (at least to a Canadian), I apologized profusely. Of course, he was already gone.

Yet after talking to a New Yorker for a few minutes, they became very friendly and talkative. Taxi drivers, street vendors and pedestrians wanted to know where we were from, why we were here, and what sites we were seeing. However, the phrase “We are from Vancouver” usually produced a blank stare. Ah well, I’d hoped the Olympics would have cured that.

More on New York

So, the hotel where we were staying (drum-roll please)… was the “Grand Hyatt”. Besides it’s location (4 blocks from Times Square and beside Grand Central Station) it was a normal hotel, although the view amused me with its iconic New York taxis.

I was rooming with two of my best friends and consequently, we would talk for 45 minutes past lights-out. Under normal circumstances, the conversations would have been lovely, except that lights-out was at one in the morning.

On the second day of the trip (this would be Friday, Feb. 18th), most our time was absorbed by a seven-hour practice. Four hours of that was a joint practice between our school’s group and two other choirs. One choir was from a university in California and was made up of students, alumni, professors and community members. They were wonderful singers with amazing vocal control. The biggest difference between them and us was their mature, rich tone and liberal use of vibrato. The other choir was from a high school in Pennsylvania.

At Carnegie Hall, we were scheduled to have two sets. The first was a solo set that we had been practicing for since November. In the other set were singing Mixa Azteca with the other choirs. Mixa Azteca is a mass that flawlessly combines traditional Latin hymns, Spanish prayers and Aztec dance rhythms. The Nahuatl was a mouthful, but the mass was amazing to sing. These practices purpose was only to run through the movements, however, in the case of the Seycove students, we were learning it. The good news: by the end of the practice I had learned the songs and had only fallen asleep twice.

That evening, our group divided forces. Half went to a hockey game and the rest went to see “The Lion King”. I am not enamored of Broadway musicals, but this one enthralled me. As the lights dimmed and the play started, the backdrop became more and more beautiful. I can’t describe how realistic as gazelle, zebras and lions the dancers were, or the beauty and complexity of the shadows. Here is a link to view the official preview for this musical. http://disney.go.com/theatre/thelionking/#/home/

Times Square was scary. Not in an “I will get lost” scary but a “this is a scene from a dystopian novel” scary. The ads for clothes, food, and ways to make money were plastered sky high. They are a perfect snapshot of the American dream and North American consumerism that many worship and deride. One store I was dragged into had three levels of clothes. Each level was indistinguishable from the last with its harsh lights, clothes made in China, and anorexic plastic mannequins.

New York Trip

Five years ago, the choir at my school won a contest and was invited to sing at Carnegie Hall. This year, the same choir, (except with me) was invited back to Carnegie Hall to give a solo performance as well as a joint one with two other choirs. So, on February 16^th at ten o’clock pm about 100 students and chaperons boarded a Cathay Pacific flight bound for New York.

The next morning, when we got off the plane and onto buses, we were whisked away for a day of sightseeing with the Unique New York Tours. Now I can lists random facts about Central Park, John Lennon’s murder sight and the New York’s organizational system. For instance, Central Park was the first ever completely man-made park designed to imitate nature.

However, my favorite part was when our tour guide introduced us to a street musician. After asking where we were from and why we were in New York, he bargained that he would play us a song, if we would sing one back. We agreed, grudgingly (half the choir was in a separate bus).

He played an amazing rendition of Amazing Grace—improvising over top of the melody and swaying dramatically. Then we sang our song—a South African freedom song (in a very, ummm, North American manner). This guy listened intently, and then started playing along with us. His trills and our melody echoed throughout the park. It was amazing and moving.

The next event on our itinerary was a tour through the UN. Our tour was fascinating. Many of the facts and ideas penetrated my sleep-fogged brain to bring me to sudden wakefulness. I learned about the UN’s disaster relief packages, different levels of volunteers, and I saw the rooms where the decisions are made that shape our world.

The room for the General Assembly and Security Council were breathtaking. There were high arching ceilings, plush chairs and grandiose podiums. Two murals in particular caught my eye. A French painter had been hired to paint “humanity” for the UN. However, he was then faced with a dilemma, no matter what colour, size or shape he painted the people, someone would be offended. So instead of a realistic representation, he painted the spirit of humanity in bold colours and shapes that everyone can interpret for themselves.

Finally, after 36 hours of no sleep, we checked into our hotel room for a one-hour nap. I fell asleep immediately and woke up just in time to run down to the lobby to meet with the group. We went to dinner and then watched the Broadway show “Wicked”. More than half the choir slept through the performance. I enjoyed the actors voices, skills and the visual effects but I have decided musicals aren’t my favorite genre of music. We got back to the hotel by midnight and were asleep by 12:30. That was the end my first day in New York.

These are the first impressions that I recorded in my Journal (which got abandoned half way through the trip because of lack of time):

• Many mounded piles of garbage bags
• Piles of crystallized snow covered in dirt, cigarette buts, and garbage
• The city smelled like Mexico
• Many signs saying “Beware of Rat Poison”
• All the skyscrapers create the impression of a giant metal forest