Wind Ensembles of Cornell University's Department of Music

SAN RAMÓN: This was also a one-roomed school but that room happened to resemble something of an attic.  It was a room, certainly, but it opened up into the rafters.  Our band took up the entire floor, so the audience sort of draped themselves over staircases and wooden beams going every which way.  It was actually very pretty.  Unfortunately pigeons generally accompany rafters – makes for good brooding nests – so I got the shock of my life when they squawked during the conducting master class.  I did not get pooped on.

It was here that I taught a very adorable 10 year old named Kimberly.  It was only then that I realized I had met quite a number of female Costa Ricans with white people names but absolutely no such males.  At any rate, she made my heart melt even though she laughed at my Spanish.

On the other hand, one of the conductors of the school thought I was actually South American.  As far as I am keeping record, this is the third person on this trip who has thought so (the immigrations officer, one of the Costa Ricans traveling with us, and this guy).  I am flattered I suppose.  He later found me, unexpectedly, in the back corner of the rafters, packing up my flute, and gave me his business card.  I have no idea what to write to a Costa Rican conductor, but I will add it to my growing pile of business cards from strangers.

And finally this was probably the worst day of the week for me.  Totally congested, eyes watering, shivering and shivering and shivering.  Already we had our oboe player sitting out – I was not about to let that happen to me.

PUNTARENAS: literally means sand point.  So yes, it is a beach.  We had some hours beforehand to go explore and the tenor sax player and I found an intact sand dollar, crabs, and an entire fish head.  It was very gross especially because I thought it was a piece of coral at first.  Other people spotted jellyfish and a clam with its own defenses: fang-like structures.

The school was quite poor and reminded me completely of Poas, from two years ago.  It was the first open air school of the trip, with rooms that flanked one side of the main floor space.  Despite how poor the school was, they still offered us a snack (like every other school, I should mention).  I am not at all sure of how this happens but I am very grateful for it.  It was at Puntarenas that I discovered JUGO.  The juice they have here is I think just fruit in a juice press.  It is completely real, completely genuine, and with a flavor I’ve very rarely had in a juice.

CÓBANO:  Cóbano is located across the sea from Puntarenas.  You can catch a ferry for less than $2 (if you are a person.  More bling if you are a vehicle).  It’s complete with wooden benches lined with leather seats and a rather extensive snack bar.  We were greeted by guava and coconut (most likely.  It sounded like birds screaming CA-CA-NA) sellers and then hopped on the bus.

The bus ride was fairly eventful in of itself, with lots of tropical foliage including trees that seemed like they belonged in Africa.

Apparently it’s called a guanacaste tree and it’s the national tree of Costa Rica.

We also had to cross some very tiny bridges.  So tiny that all I could see outside of the bus was water, no actual road.  Props to Michi, our bus driver, of whom it was also his birthday (grammar anyone?) for getting us through that.

This was the last school of the week and it was similar to Puntarenas in that it too was open air.  We ate lunch first with tamarino juice.  I have never had a tamarind but if it is anything like the juice, I strongly recommend it.

We did not have a conducting master class here so instead we decided to have a mini concert with the kids.  Each section would teach their students a piece and then we would all get together and play it.

Okay I know I’ve been talking for ages but in Cóbano, there was a very notable, very talented bassoon player.  She looked about 12 and had been playing for only one year, but was very quick to learn and could play well in tune.  She told me she does not have a teacher but does everything by ear.  I had actually taught her at Puntarenas on the flute.  I told her that if I were her, I would stick to the bassoon.  Todo el mundo toca la flauta.

Ahora ya está.  I think it will be worth my time to go into a few other topics more in detail at a later point.

It’s been a week or so since I last wrote, and I do apologize for not being more timely with these posts, but it has been a bit of a whirlwind down here.

The entire week was packed with master classes, conducting workshops, and performances.  We’ve played with limited lighting, sun in our eyes, kids on tricycles and skateboards, and surprise guest artists in the form of pigeons.  And so I begin.

PAVAS: This was the only school we repeated from the last visit.  Two years ago, it was a one roomed building that also hosted Alcoholics Anonymous meetings.  It is still exactly that.  What did change, actually, was the snack they fed us.  I remember many puzzled wind players, pulling apart slices of bread to find pate smashed in between (not complaining, I frankly love pate).  This time they offered us a bologna sandwich (a bit more American, I daresay), Chips Ahoy rainbow-chip cookies (super American), a very large piece of chocolate that was white with dark specks (Costa Rican I imagine, meant to resemble a soccer ball), a Canadian candy bar called Mr. Big Deal (complete with nutrition facts in both English and French and a Canadian hockey player with a missing front tooth), and a glass of Coke.

Musically speaking, the program has expanded considerably.  Instead of three flutes, for example, we had six or more, and nearly all of them had been playing for at least a year.  We had a full concert with a very excitable and awed audience.  It certainly made me thrilled, even though our performance was not quite up to par.

GRECIA: The plan was to stop at a specific restaurant for lunch before starting our master classes.  In actual fact, we somehow got lost or perhaps just did not know exactly where the restaurant was, and pulled over into a semi-touristy restaurant.

Two notable things: Costa Ricans may or may not (again, touristy restaurant) eat deep-friend pork fat, also known as chicharrones.  A waitress patrolled the very long line, handing out cubes of this.  Unfortunately, it was very tasty.  I think it would do well in certain areas of the United States.

The second notable thing was that there was a very tiny fruit stand just outside of the restaurant selling a papaya like fruit and avocados.  They were not normal avocados, at least normal by my standards.  They were actually the size of half my head.

We had known beforehand that this school had a number of decent musicians already.  Therefore we were not surprised when we found we could quite easily sightread flute quartets.  I personally have no notable stories about this school, except that one of our Costa Rican French Horn players conducted beautifully.  I almost cried.

More later.  We are going bowling now!

Forgive me in advance, for I will be making many comparisons between this trip and my first trip to Costa Rica two years ago.

For starters, we had 5 students from Ithaca College with us on the 2010 tour.  Everyone else were full members of Cornell University Wind Ensemble.  This time, we have 5 students from IC, 6 students from Costa Rica and 1 post-doc, Steve, who has done this tour twice before already.  This means that roughly a quarter of the wind ensemble is not familiar with the other ¾ of the ensemble.

Any of us could name a million differences that separate IC students from Cornell students from Costa Rican students.  Seems natural, then, that after 11 days, a quarter of the wind ensemble will still not be very familiar with the other ¾ of the ensemble.

I certainly did not get to know the IC students, from two years ago very well at all.  That was certainly at least partly my fault.

This tour is different.  No, we did not have good attendance at our pre-Costa Rica social events in comparison to those of two years ago, yet somehow that does not seem to matter.  For the most part, I’m observing that people are sitting next to new people every time we board the bus to our next destination.  The kids from Ithaca are definitely making an effort to talk to the Cornellians and vice versa.  Even more impressive is the Costa Ricans.  Some have more confianza than others when they speak English but all I’m hearing from the English-speaking students is how cool the Costa Ricans are and how well they can secretly, actually speak English.

It’s the beginning of tour after all.  Even people within Cornell are trying to figure out whom they’ve been sitting next to for a semester so far.  Inevitably, people will find preferences.  It’s not fair for anyone to expect that all 40-odd of us will be best friends with each other.  Clumps will form.  But we should expect that those clumps are permeable.

I’m going to take a survey on this subject.  I’ve asked roughly 10 people (randomly, as in who was sitting in the reception area as I was writing this) so far and they have agreed with my statements.  I’ll keep you updated.

But from my readings of the people on this tour, I have a lot of faith.  Much more than I did two years ago.  Vamos a ver!