We returned from a vacation trip to Baltimore last Tuesday, which started on Friday, for purposes of fencing & general relaxation.
Yeah, sure.
About the fencing, it was absurdly expensive, as much of my equipment proved defective. The fencing itself proved disappointingly unproductive as well. About this, no more need be said.
And the driving was dominated by aggressive nutters.
Our first full day in Baltimore was marked by fencing in the morning, and then dinner with local friends. They then took us, along with their wonderful Welsh friend, out to a concert of three pieces, put on by The Columbia Orchestra. First, I’ll note, I know little about music. The first two pieces, Sarasate‘s Zigeunerweisen and Shostakovich‘s Cello Concerto No. 1, 4th movement, were delightful, each featuring solos by local students who had won young musician grants offered by the orchestra. During the Sarasate piece, which featured a 12 year old violinist, my Arts Editor whispered in my ear, “He’s amazing! And what were YOU doing in 7th grade?”
Grumble. I don’t remember.
And then came the centerpiece: the short opera Bluebeard’s Castle by Béla Bartok. Oh, my.
Ohmyohmyohmyohmyohmy.
While I think we liked the representation of the seven locked doors in his castle, I had to wonder if the seven large screens interfered with the orchestra’s acoustics. As it was, perhaps 30% of the time the singers were inaudible, or at best unintelligible, as they could not compete with the orchestra. The piece itself was dark and moodily jarring, written in an octonal scale, and relying on jangling discords for much of its drama. Given my lack of knowledge of music, and my respect for Mull’s dictum[1], I shan’t comment further except to say that all of us seemed exhausted at the end of the performance.
The next day we visited the USS Constellation, as it’s docked in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. A sloop-of-war, we were surprised at its apparent roominess, although I suspect most of its fittings were removed for a renovation in progress. I didn’t take any long distance shots, so these two will have to fulfill that obligation:
I like the second slightly better. Here were have a picture of one of its masts:
And here’s a detail of one of those block and tackles from the previous picture:
Not as clear as I might like, but we were in a hurry. Note the submarine in the background, which I regret to say we did not have time to visit, nor the lighthouse ship, also anchored nearby. As I enjoy unusual perspectives, here’s a shot from the dock, looking up.
This shot caught a mystery for me: why shaggy ropes?
There was a lack of visually interesting perspectives inside the Constellation, but I took a couple, first of the Captain’s cabin, if I recall properly:
And here we have a pile of rope, near the ship’s bow, second deck.
From the Constellation we moved on to another – futile – fencing event, and thence dinner and bed. The next morning we lit out for Charlottesville, VA, the home of Jefferson’s Monticello. Inside pics were not allowed, and it was raining steadily during our entire visit, curtailing visits to the flower beds or any structures other than the main structure. But we thoroughly enjoyed our visit (my second, my Arts Editor’s first), and the docent was caught rather flat-footed, as management had changed much of the artwork out just the day before. Here’s my lone pic from that visit:
I fear I failed to capture the mistiness of the scene, sadly. It was far more enchanting than this paltry attempt.
From there, it was to dinner (Cafe 88 was the iconic hole in the wall, What! This is good! place), to bed, up at 3:15 AM to catch the early (and only) flight to Dulles Airport, and from there – home.
And now a disinclination to blog. Spring is almost here.
1Martin Mull, who, according to Quote Investigator, once said or wrote,
Writing about music is like dancing about architecture.
