On Switzerland, the Swiss, Cows, Mountains, Tunnels, and Bridges.

Travels in Switzerland began in 1960, when I accompanied in the Pablo Casals Masterclasses in Zermatt. Traveling with a group from the UK that included the very young Jacqueline du Pre...only 15 at the time...this was my second experience in an international music setting. The first was three summers at the Aspen Music Festival, at the time in the mid 1950's a very small but captivating festival that featured musicians like Jennie Tourel, Rudolf Firkusny, Rosina Lehvinne, and Vronsky and Babin, perhaps the greatest of the two piano teams of that era. Pablo Casals was quite a different story. He had long since excused himself from the Franco Dictatorship in Spain, and declared himself a citizen of the world. Contrary to so many famous musicians today who have their own private jets, multiple apartments in multiple countries, and carefully craft an image that overcomes bad nights in the major houses of the world., Casals lived a simple, almost monastic life in the south of France, devoting himself to study, contemplation, and performance preparation. He had already enjoyed decades of popularity by the time I caught up with him. His musicianship was already almost of another era by 1960. He indeed seemed to live in a world that was a total combination of concentration, exacting musicianship, consumate communication and stillness of spirit. Every morning for three weeks we were in class with him, as he taught hand on hand the great literature of the cello. He seemed to know all the standard works by memory, including the biggest concerti and the smallest suites. I guess if I had a word for him it would be DIRECT. THere were no veils, curtains or other contrived barriers between you, Cassls, and what he was directing you to do. He was complete authority. I remember especially the last student concert when I had to play the most fearsome accompaniments by Hugo Wolf for a very fine singer from Zurich. There was no missing Casals. There he was in the front row...inches away... and so nowhere to hide. I strangely remember very little now about the performance, except to say, at the moment of truth, I was absolutely calm. He jumped up at the end and came to the edge of the stage to congratulate us, as he often did when he was pleased. How thrilled we were, and how grateful for his presence.

Now it is almost 50 years ago, and Jackie du Pre died in her forties after a dramatic career that brought joy to millions. Just the other day in Zermatt I found a photo of the masterclass, and there I was on the outer edges, long hair and gazing into space...no doubt in a trance. How formal we all looked...Casals in coat and tie, many lisners also, and the students all neatly dressed. No blue jeans, sandals, Blackberries, cell phones, headphones. How dull we were! Typical for the age, we dressed in respect, and took away what we could.

Now, all these years later, Zermatt has a yearly music festival. It has one great strength, and that is the presence of members of the Berlin Philharmonic, who take direction of the student orchestra, which plays without conductor, and sit alongside the students. It is the old method of "laying of the hands", where you have a master near you to guide and counsel.

The greater weakness is the lack of public relations from the festival itself. It is surprisingly laid back, as I often say, "waiting for an introduction". The Euros are so formal it gets in the way of spontaineity. What the staff needs is a bit of Yankee know how, so that more support comes in by way of fund raising. They so easily let Credit Swisse get all the credit (pun intended), and seem content with whatever they get.Also, programming often misses the mark, as per having this year's opening concert be an old music group, period instruments, and a counter-tenor. Many left at intermission. One Spanish lady was rather frightened by the counter-tenor, obviously having a gender crisis of identification! She left, also.

As for the lovely cows, they are still everywhere. I was too early this year for the weekend they bring all the cows down from their pastures high in the mountains. What a lovely, time honored procession. But, HEIDI is alive and well. I saw her several times, with her charming smile and simple ways. May she live forever.