As I sit on the plane heading from Milan to Boston, I can't help but feel a twinge of sadness. Sure, I know I'll be back in Italy someday, but I know it will never be anything like this past week. It certainly wasn't a typical senior's Spring Break - no beaches, crazy Cancun sun, or pina coladas. But I was willing to trade those things for hearty pasta, the Sistine Chapel, and some darn good gelato.
I came to Italy with the Tufts Chamber Singers to perform a series of concerts at churches and other venues in Rome, Florence, Gallicano, and Cremona. It was my first time setting foot in Europe and I was prepared to be blown away. As soon as I stepped on the Italian soil and saw the endless streams of cafes (or "bars" as they call them in Italy) and gelaterias, I knew I was at home.
Most people come to Italy to gaze at the churches and admire the incredible frescoes, sculptures, and elaborate altars. But we had come to Italy to take advantage of singing in churches with some of the best acoustics in the world. The sound quality was incredible. From the moment we opened our mouths, it was as if our voices took on a whole new dimension. We were no longer 21 singers. We sounded like a full chorus. Our sound echoed and bounced off the walls back to our ears. The churches were alive and pulsating with our energy as we sang through our program that consisted of Italian madrigals, church pieces, a work by Bernstein, and American spirituals.
What was perhaps even more exciting was the sense of history and legend that followed us everywhere we went. The first place we sang in was St. Peters Basilica in Rome. One of the pieces in our repertoire, Palestrina's "Sicut Cervus," was originally sung in St. Peters by his church choir in the sixteenth century. It was amazing to think that hundreds of years later, we were in the same place that singers just like us had sung this moving tune. I felt as if Palestrina was there with us, looking over our shoulders and encouraging us to make his music come alive.
One of the more special moments of the trip came after we finished our performance. A nun from the audience approached us and told us that in all the years she had been coming to St. Peters, our singing touched her the most.
Every concert seemed to get more and more thrilling. We traveled to a small mountain town an hour south of Rome called Gallicano. The townspeople in this area were extremely excited to see us. As we stepped off the tour bus, we felt almost like movie stars. Little boys on their bikes and people sipping espressos in the local bars stopped whatever they were doing to look at the Americans who had come to sing in their town. Their reception was warm and they filled the seats of the beautiful church we were singing in.
Later that evening, we had the honor of having dinner with them in their city hall. The delicious meal, the friendly townspeople, and the gracious feel of the quaint town made us feel right at home.
After Gallicano, we hit the Saint Margherita Church in Florence for an afternoon concert. The doors to this church, a Renaissance landmark, were kept open during this concert. Shoppers, young couples, and tourists wandered into the church to hear us. The acoustics in this breathtaking church were the most amazing of all the venues we sang in, and sent chills down my spine. I didn't want to stop singing - I could have gone on for hours.
We had the wonderful opportunity to sing with the Monteverdi choir at a concert venue in Calbutona, a town in Cremona. This time, we were in the birthplace of Monteverdi, one of the prominent composers on our program. It was a unique experience to sing with an Italian choir - they helped us to get a better feel for the meaning of the music we were singing. Though both choirs spoke different languages, all barriers broke down when we sang together and were united by the music.
What struck me the most was the warmth of the Italian people. Everywhere we went, there were smiles on their faces as we sang. They seemed to feel the spirit of the music just as much as we did. I loved singing our American repertoire for the audiences. They really seemed to especially enjoy the American spirituals we sang, especially "Elijah Rock," which incidentally was written by Tufts composer Jester Hairston. It was a sharing of our respective cultures and many audience members had most likely never heard the likes of any of these songs. These pieces had an infectious energy that got people smiling and tapping their feet.
I don't really know when I'll get the chance to sing in a church in Italy again. Perhaps never - but at least I got the chance to do it once. The week gave me a feel for the country in a different sense than most tourists do when they initially visit a place. We got to know the Italian people not just through their artwork but through their music.
The churches in Italy are not just built for religious and artistic purposes, but for musical ones as well. It will be hard to sing in Cohen and Aidekman after having sung in St. Peter's Basilica. For that matter, it will be heard to get adjusted to not having gelato twice a day and wine with every meal. I'll adjust, I suppose. If not, I can always hop back on Alitalia and give a big saluto to Roma.
