After a long and arduous journey over the ocean and Alps (which really make you go "what was Hannible THINKING?!" as you fly over them) I have arrived safely in Pavia, Italy.
The flight was uneventful, except I was sitting next to a very nice woman who was actually from Transylvania, which I thought was really cool. She tried to tell me a Transylvanian joke about Vlad the Impaler (Dracula) in which Vlad's troops capture a Turkish guy (apparently they were at war) and impaled him on a stick as a gift. They then covered the body and stick in a cloth and, when Vlad pulled off the cloth, his men gathered around and started singing "happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."
As with most jokes translated out of their original language, I feel that this one must have lost something important...
Already I have had a day of classes, and I've learned, as always, that I know far less than even the little I thought I knew about music. One of my new professors, Giovanni Albini, is a brilliant contemporary composer who also put me to shame with an amazing catalogue of commercial music that he's written for films and other things in Italy. Because he is Italian, he always manages to fit in a metaphor relating a musical concept to a woman. Our favorite so far has been "I believe you must have an idea and then stick to it and develop it. We do not need many many ideas. If I say that I would like to see your beautiful girlfriend, I do not also want to see her mother."
Last night he also told us a story (that much have been translated poorly) about hanging out with mobsters and their model girlfriends at a club in Milan and drinking communally from what could only be described as a "chalice, filled with champagne and fruit and I think extacy(sp? my spellcheck doesn't work here) because I could not go to sleep and I was shaking."
On the musical front, Giovanni has promised to show me lots of mathematical concepts which relate to music, from which I should theoretically be able to choose a method of composition for "mad Madeline."
I have my first lesson with Professor Hulse on Wednesday.
Oh, and I also got to sit in on a rehearsal of my piece for four-hand piano. The girls playing it are fabulous musicians and very kind to indulge me whenever I can't think of a musical term and replace it instead with a dramatic one.
"I want you to... uhh... fill the atmosphere with a sense of growing dread."
"Like... play it progressively louder?"
"If that's a dread-filling device, absolutely."
"At the end would you like us to stand up and scream 'there she is, outside the door!' like Roderick Usher?"
I think they understand me.