Four Poles and two Americans are among the forty picked to proceed to the second stage of the International Chopin Competition taking place in Warsaw right now (see previous post on this if you're new to the topic). Jan Widlarz, with that Chopinesque face that I admired, did not make it and so of course I feel bad for him, but oh, there is talent among the group of pianists! And the hard work! Let's just focus on two of the Poles selected to continue: Piotr Pawlak, 27, has won numerous awards for his piano interpretations and has played all over the world, with everyone -- that's my reading of his bio! Moreover, he is great at the pipe organ (winning competitions in this as well), and he is currently pursuing his PhD in mathematics. Your head swims when you read his bio (here). And how about Yehuda Prokopowicz? He is just 19 years old, one of the babies in the second stage group (the supremely talented and according to my Warsaw friend, the creme de la creme of the group Yanyan Bao from China is actually just 18, for another month anyway, but we're not on China at the moment). Born in Israel, Yehuda moved to Krakow Poland as an 8 year old. His older sister opened his eyes to piano music and now here he is, pushing the boundaries (read about him here). [The other two of the four Poles are Piotr Alexewicz and Adam Kaldunski.]
And the two Americans? Anthony Ratinov, William Yang. Anthony was born in Moscow and first studied piano with his grandmother. (His bio is here.) Now he is both a master of the instrument, a graduate of Julliard and Yale (chemical engineering!), a soloist as well as a renowned chamber music performer, and probably a very nice person, though I'm just guessing on that. And William? A Midwesterner! Hails from the Twin Cities and I'd say he has had a lot of practice performing, having appeared at age 9 with the Minnesota Orchestra. He won this year's U.S. National Chopin Competition, which allowed him to head on to the international one in Warsaw. (Bio here.) Okay, this guy has a light side to him (being a Midwesterner). Asked about his interests outside of piano music he volunteered that he really likes playing table tennis.
I should mention that the country that is absolutely dominating this competition is China. Fourteen made it to the top 40. It attests to the strength of music training in that country. Notable too is the paucity of women in this next group. Eight out of 40 (and I had to do some legwork to figure out the gender of many names!). Is there gender bias in piano competition? The short answer is yes, but the long answer is that it's complicated. You can find a more detailed explanation of it here.
Oh, wait, have I forgotten that it's Wednesday and that I have a full day before me? Starting with breakfast, on the couch because frankly it's a better place from which to listen to Chopin. I'm back to Bircher Muesli!
And now, here comes the x-rated part of the post:
I was thinking last night how lucky I was to have found this apartment. The sunshine, the fabulous management, the care they put into the building, the cleanliness and yes, the quiet. Great noise control. I never hear music or TV noise or any of the other bothersome to me aspects of living in an apartment building of recent construction.
Except...
Well, I live on the 4th floor. There is one more floor above me. And I do hear the occasional clomp of footsteps as the resident(s) walk(s) around their unit. That's really not a huge deal for me because we are a sedentary lot and we actually walk very little in the post-work hours of the day. We sit and stream and eat and go to bed.
Therein lies the problem. I have no idea how the unit above me is configured, but I can tell you this much: their bedroom is right above my bedroom, and though we all have bedroom carpets, somehow, in an engineering feat that totally befuddles me, their bed groans and squeaks and clacks with movement. Last night at around 10 p.m. I waited patiently for the copulation activity to cease and it did, but it lead me to wonder -- how bothersome is this? Would you mind if you lived in a lovely and quiet space that only came alive for the brief period when those above you had sex? (It's not as if I can complain about this. I mean, it's not really their fault that their bed makes noise loud enough for it to reach my unit below. Ed thinks I should slip an anonymous note underneath their door. But with what message? Quit having sex? Switch to the floor?) It's happened on previous nights, only last night it was especially... rhythmic and pronounced. I suppose every place comes with a price tag. Perfection is elusive and not something you want to chase too hard (no pun intended). Still, I am glad that they seem to be rather routine about it. And it doesn't take them that long!
And now on with the day.
I had jotted down a market for this Wednesday. I need flowers while the going is good. Meaning before frost wipes them all out for the year. (And we're getting close -- last night we dipped into the 30sF, so just a little above 2C.)
The downtown market is no longer a draw: I'm not looking for produce. So long as there is a vendor with flowers, I'll be satisfied with the closer markets, even though they're one tenth the size.
And there is a vendor with flowers.
And I'm satisfied.
I'm close to the grocery store so it's a good opportunity for me to stock up a bit. From there -- to home...
("we're checking out your new neighborhood!")
Then to the farmette.
For the nature that surrounds it, for the walk, for the quiet time with Ed. Too, I dont want to drive here for the next couple of days, because those days are pretty full. Wednesdays, on the other hand, are leisurely and open-ended. I have no kid duty. And the weather is nippy today, but golden! Lots of sunshine.
Ed is once again baking pies. If you think that doesn't fit the image, I have to say, it actually does. He harvested a small crate-ful of apples from the ancient apple tree in the old orchard. (And soon after, the tree up and died! Seriously!) I think they taste awful. Or at least, when you're spoiled with honeycrisp, these start to taste like cardboard versions of a lesser fruit. And maybe he finally concluded that I was right and that eating them was a chore, so he decided to bake pies to use them up. Not for him the wasteful toss into the compost pile. So, pies he shall have.
I watch, enjoying the smell of pie in the oven. He will offer me some of course, but pies don't tempt me anymore. When you no longer eat big portions of anything, you save your treat allotment for stuff you love. A piece (or two or three) of good chocolate. A croissant with jam and coffee. Pies can't compare.
In the late afternoon I return to my Chopin and my books. And my flowers from the market.
And leftovers for supper. I have to wonder -- why are there always so many leftovers in the fridge? Even on days I take food to Ed, there are still leftovers. Remarkably convenient for a person who feels like cooking maybe twice a week!
with so much love...
