Dramatic Dvorak

The Interlochen Bowl was abuzz. It was the final concert of the summer and the World Youth Symphony Orchestra was playing Dvorak’s Symphony No.9, From the New World. All week long, the campus had tingled with excitement. It was as though Lady Gaga was coming to camp. I sat down next to my friends, two rows from the front. We were packed into the seats, as tightly as sardines in a tin. Behind us, multitudes of people sat sprawled out on the grassy lawn. There must have been thousands. Sitting facing the Bowl, an old open air bandstand, I could see the lake glimmering in the evening light beyond. The crowd roared with enthusiasm. Proudly holding their instruments, the musicians filed in. Then, they began to play and time seemed to stop.
One, two, three movements went by. Adagio, largo, scherzo. Moderately slow, very slow, quite fast. I sat there, fixated on the musicians. The string players were mesmerizing to watch. Their bows stroked in perfect unison. Mechanically. They moved to and fro, entirely caught up in the music. Jung Ho conducted with vim and vigor such as I have never seen. He danced around his small podium. Jumping and waving his arms, he brandished his baton. Convulsing to the music, he was out of control.
Then came the moment I’d been waiting for. Movement four, allegro con fuoco, fast, with fire. The strings were tense. It was like the final minute of a close game. Then, the horns came in. They were loud. They were dramatic. They were like a giant explosion of passion and fire and sound. At the first note, I jerked around to face my friend Rachel, inexplicably excited. It was as though we were telepathic, for at exactly that moment, she turned to face me, a wild passion in her eyes. We grinned at each other, thrilled beyond measure, like little kids on the mornings of their birthdays. It was over in a flash. And the audience exploded with applause. I jumped out of my seat to join the standing ovation. I felt overwhelmed. I was on sensory overload. The final chord was still ringing in my mind. I couldn’t get enough of the music.
The musicians stood to take their bows. But once didn’t cut it. The applause rained down for what seemed like hours. I spotted my best friend, a violist in the second row. A blinding smile radiated from her face. I called her name. I know she couldn’t hear me over the endless elated screams of the audience. It didn’t matter, I was ecstatic. I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. It had been an amazing summer of music. There couldn’t possibly have been a better conclusion.

Oinks

When I look back at this photo, I think of summers spent at Lake Michigan. I don’t know exactly when it was taken, but I definitely know where: Oinks, the best ice cream parlor in the whole entire world. Hands down. The ice cream is not the only fantastic feature of this place. It is always teeming with people, bustling with activity. The air is buzzes with anticipation and delight. And last but certainly not least, the decor is pig-themed. As pigs are my favorite animals, I am thrilled with the variety of pig paraphernalia displayed. Every summer I make sure to go Oinks at least once. It’s a bit of a schlepp to get over there. Located in Michigan, Oinks is by no means close to our Indiana lake house. All of us cousins have to band together to cajole an adult into driving us. This was sometimes a hard sell, but without fail, we managed it every single summer.

Once the decision was made to go to Oinks, all of us jumped up with joy and race down to the car, as fast as we possibly could. There was no time to waste when Oinks was involved! Blasting the oldies radio station, we set out. In the car, we pressed our faces to the windows. Each of us wanting to be the first one to sight the sign the said ‘Welcome to Michigan’ and then ‘Oinks!’ With every passing moment, our excitement mounted. At Oinks, there were always a ton of people. We always left our grown-up escort waiting in line. There were free samples waiting for us in the candy store next door. That should explain it. After a few minutes, when we knew it would be long before our turn, we dashed back over to marvel over the multitudes of flavors. It was so hard to choose between Blue Moon and Mackinac Island Fudge, Chocolate and Rainbow Sherbet, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough and Moose Tracks. I know I could have spent hours deciding. I always worried that I wouldn’t choose the right flavor. Suddenly, the moment of truth arrived. I gave my order to the guy behind the counter. Year after year, I stood in unbearable suspense, hoping I had made the right decision, doubting that I had until after that first delectable spoonful. I was right every single time. It’s hard to go wrong with anything at Oinks.

The Shovel and the Roll of Toilet Paper

In Chicago in December (yes, I know it was a long time ago . . . ), I found this Christmas tree ornament at a store called Erehwon. The camp that I have been going to for the past five summers, Songadeewin, is dedicated to canoeing and tripping. I know that the subjects of the past two sentences seem completely unrelated. Just bear with me here.

When you're on a camping trip and there is no outhouse in the vicinity, you have no choice but to go into the woods armed with the two objects on this ornament: a shovel and a roll of toilet paper. A few days after this picture was taken, I visited some friends from camp. Memories and inside jokes from trips never cease to provide us with entertainment.

Bulls Game

Part One
About a month ago, I attended my very first NBA game. It was the Chicago Bulls verses the Indiana Pacers at the United Center in Chicago, IL.

I stepped into the stadium. Walking down between two blocks of seats, I gauged the magnitude of the stadium. I knew the facts. Dad had already told us that it held 20,000 seats. But, still, it's hard to imagine a finite space of that size until you've actually seen one. The stadium was buzzing with excitement. Soon enough, after some pregame entertainment, the Bulls ran onto the court accompanied by dramatic and exciting music. After that commotion died down a bit, Darth Vader's theme song from Star Wars came on and the Bulls' competitors, the Indiana Pacers strode out on to the court. The room grew silent and boos began to emanate from from the crowd. Then, the lights came up and the game begun.


Part Two
During the timeouts and breaks between quarters, new forms of entertainment kept emerging. First came the LovaBulls, a group of cheerleaders dressed in minimal amounts of clothing who performed dances and had frequent outfit changes. When a Bulls player had a free throw, they would start cheering and doing hand gestures. Watching them was like playing Indian Chief except for the fact that they were much less subtle in their changes of movement. Next came a giant inflatable bull flew around the stadium overhead.

However, I have to say that the most engaging form of entertainment would be the T-shirts that came parachuting down from the ceiling and rocketing into the crowd, having been shot out by 'guns' situated down by the sideline. This made the crowd go giddy with excitement. Although I failed to get one of these T-shirts, I later purchased a large red sweatshirt that read CHICAGO BULLS.

My dad may make a basketball fan out of me yet.

The Wonders of the American Supermarket

While in the US, my family always ends up spending a large amount of time in Whole Foods Market. This vacation has been a prime example. To the best of my knowledge, Whole Foods is not really that different from any other supermarket in America. However, two features not found in Japan have always impressed me:

1. When I was younger, one of my favorite things in America was loading groceries from our shopping cart onto the little conveyer belts at cash registers in supermarkets. It fascinated me that there conveyer belts in supermarkets. I never saw that in Japan.


2. This next item only came to my attention recently. You've got to admit, escalators meant specially for for shopping carts are pretty neat, aren't they?