Return to Paradise

I am home. Back in the fairy-tale land where I first arrived oh-so-long ago. 34 years, in 1990, to be exact. That yellow-brick road I had been walking on—well, dancing on— for 15 years before that moment, that pathless path that tested and bolstered my heart, brain and courage— landed me on the steps of the Orff Institut in Salzburg, Austria. It was a Sunday and as I entered a mostly empty building, I saw a woman coming down the hall toward me. The moment she recognized me, she threw her arms wide, jubilantly shouted “Doug!” and hugged me exuberantly. That was Verena Maschat, herself an indelible part of the illustrious history of this magnificent institution. A warm welcome to this place that has given me so much. 

 

That summer and in the ensuing years that followed, I met hundreds of beautiful souls who went on to become my teachers, colleagues, students and friends. They came from Iceland, Finland, Spain, Portugal, Germany, Austria, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovenia, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Iran, Ukraine, Russia, Estonia, Thailand, Singapore, Hong Kong. Taiwan, China, Japan, Korea, Australia, New Zealand, Brazil, Colombia, Ghana, South Africa, Canada, the U.S. and yet more. A veritable United Nations doing the real work of both celebrating differences and commonalities through the ancient vehicles of shared music, dance and song. Because of those gatherings at the Institut, I was often later invited to teach in these countries and the party continued. And continues to this day. 

 

The doors to the Institut continued to open as well, year after year of teaching at Summer Courses, Symposia, Special Courses, Orff Forum gatherings. Three performances (1995, 2000, 2006) with the group Xephyr and one in 2011 with my colleagues Sofia Lopez Ibor, James Harding and 17 middle school kids from The San Francisco School. Also inviting many Orff Institut teachers and adjunct faculty to do Master Classes at our San Francisco International Orff Course, amongst them Barbara Haselbach (twice), Verena Maschat, Christa Coogan, Andrea Ostertag, Wolfgang Hartmann, Polo Vallejo and Soili Perkio. It became a marvelous ping-pong game between San Francisco and Salzburg and everybody won. 

 

And now, five years since my last visit, here I am back in Salzburg. Ah, so many lives lived here and each one so intense, so memorable, so necessary. A paradise indeed, but not naively so—more like 30 years of Shakespearean dramas. This one place the site of Midsummer Night dreaming, Romeo and Juliet illicit trysts, ides of March betrayals, midnight assassinations,  witches brews and magical fairy dancing under the evening moon. The full measure of life’s possibilities, each key on its keyboard played with power, dynamic energy and subtle nuance. 

 

Add to that this extraordinary city that is the most perfect blend of urban and rural, the old and the new, the human and the natural, the traditional (Mozart) and innovative (Carl Orff). Ringed by mountains, endless curved walking and bike paths, the verdant greens of spreading trees and fields, the gurgle of blue waters running through it. The old town with its castle on the hill,  the new town with its chic stores, and a conservative mentality that conserves what was never broken so that decades later, I never worry that the fallow field that gives space and breathing room would be filled with a mall and am never concerned that some giant phallic Sales Force Tower would be built helter-skelter wherever there was room. And it never has been. 

 

We landed to perfect 70-degree sunny weather and in spite of the tired body of a long flight with just a few hours sleep, everything conspired to shout:

 

“Welcome home!”