A few years ago, I was perusing Passover-themed games on the internet and stumbled across gems like "The Passover Game ("Help Moses lead the Jews out of Egypt") and Pesach finger puppets, complete with a strangely happy-looking blood drop to represent the death of the firstborn. I really do have a strange sense of humor. Last month, I went on my second Negev
tiyul with the ITF-Rishon group, but this time, instead of being caught in raging sandstorms and torrential desert rains, we were attacked by locusts! Well, not really us, our bus drove through giant clouds of them. The birds were having a field day feasting on them (Kosher for Pesach!) and by the time we got to our destination, our bus was covered with giant yellow-green splats of ex-locusts. I had no idea they were so large! No wonder the Egyptians were terrified. They are like giant grasshoppers crossed with equally giant dragonflies.
Locusts aside, the Negev was beautiful as always, and it was really nice to be there and not be shivering from the cold or squinting to keep sand out of my eyes. We hiked in the Ramon
makhtesh, one of my favorite places on Earth, visited a Bedouin family (my first "Bedouin tent" experience), ate our fill of fresh veggies, herbs, and strawberries at the Salad Trail, and of course, had a good old fashioned campfire singalong at the Ben Gurion field school. I had my "pop" debut in the desert and so I've decided that all of my future venues will feature a small audience seated around a campfire. There's something very comforting and inviting about a campfire that makes it impossible to feel stage fright.
I'm giving a very abbreviated version of our Negev itinerary but I hope that the pictures will help to fill in the gaps. The next week we had Pesach (three weeks of vacation for the kids, which they claimed was "too short") and I had Seder with Sharon and her family: her husband and their three kids (plus a friend), her mother, her half-brother, his daughter, and his ex-wife. It was quite the mix of people. Luckily for me, most of Sharon's family is bilingual: her mother was explaining to me how she never uses English and so she doesn't remember any of it.....in English. Sharon had warned me that usually, Pesach is a time for family
dramma and her mother often gets so upset that she leaves the dinner half-way through and takes a cab home. This time, however, everyone made it through the dinner without too many upsets. The various family members spiced up the Haggadah readings by using different accents (Hungarian, "school-teacher," and Daniel's "small-chipmunk" voice) and her kids added beat boxing and improv. drumming to the songs. It was quite the festive occasion. The food was amazing - Sharon and her husband made everything, from the matzoh to the gefilte fish (I think I ate my life's quota) to the desserts! I think I ate more that night than I usually do in a week. After dinner, Sharon turned to the piano and played/sang her favorite French pop ballad (she had a concert a few weeks ago of French chanson and pop songs) and then her older son (Orel) and daughter (Yael) serenaded us a bit with guitar and voices. Possibly my favorite part of the evening was when Orel started playing the intro for "Sweet Child of Mine" and both the 70+-year-old grandmother and the 5-year-old grandchildren started shouting "No, no, no! Stop!!!" I hope that my passion for rock doesn't go away as I age.
So life continues well in the motherland. My voice lessons are going really well, we are finally at the "tweaking" stage of my technique: my current challenge is learning how to engage the muscles around my eyes and nose for the different vowels. "Earn your wrinkles!" Sharon tells me. (She also tells me, "I will never be able to have Botox - how will I be able to teach my technique?!?") I started working with a coach, Rodika, at the school, who is a very spunky Romanian Israeli. She wants me to "open my wings" (my shoulder-blades) to better engage my body in singing. She is quite a character - we have amusing discussions about the sexual subtext in just about all of my songs: welcome to "Opera Subtext 101: It's either about sex or death, or possibly both!" You see - opera is just rock 'n' roll with an orchestra.
Last night, I sang in a Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Memorial) event that my program (and a few other programs) have been planning for the past month. I think it's really funny how people think that anything sung with a big voice is automatically opera. I often have a difficult time explaining to non-musicians what it means to be a "classical" singer and when I consulted with my sister, discovered that I myself didn't really understand it. To me, "classical singing" encompasses actual opera from the 17th century, art songs and Lieder from the last few centuries, and contemporary 20th century singing. But how do you explain that a John Cage piece for voice is just as "classical" as a Handel opera aria? Well, I guess, I don't. At any rate, I was able to record last night's performance and Sarah, our marketing person, videotaped (do we say videotape still when there is no tape involved?) it, so we are going to splice it together and I will find a way to post it either here or secretly on Youtube.
I hope that everyone had good holidays, Pesach and [its distant relative] Easter alike. My Easter celebration consisted of eating an entire praline Ritter Sport bar - it was a pretty good substitute for a chocolate bunny.
Locusts and strawberries,
Daniella
