London, Day 6

Day Six in London started out fairly chill.  A and I slept in and then went and walked around Hyde Park.  We didn't have anything particular we wanted to do there; we just wanted to see it.  Swans and ducks and various other waterbirds paddled around in the river Serpentine that winds through the park and is wide and calm so it's more like a long large pond.  We squinted at the odder looking waterbirds (there are some weird ones in London) and laughed at the swans: one moment they were floating gracefully atop the water and then the next, they were dunking their heads underwater and wiggling their rears in the air.  Very amusing birds.

It was extremely hot again, so we walked and laughed at birds for only a short while before camping out next to the Serpentine and reading and journaling. 

We got lunch at a sandwich and coffee place in the park and then got ice cream at a cute little ice cream stand operating out of an old-fashioned car.  The cold ice cream was perfect in the heat.  Then we walked across the park to the Royal Albert Hall Theatre where an orchestra concert was to take place.  By the time we got there, I was ready for another ice cream.

I wasn't sure what I was expecting from the concert.  I vaguely knew in the back of my mind that the Royal Albert Hall was a pretty nice venue, but I wasn't sure how nice nor was I sure how big of a concert it would be.  The website said the tickets were only £10 (that was why we decided to go actually) so  I figured the event couldn't be very big or important.  I think I subconsciously decided that the concert would be a small, laid-back affair.  Well, was I in for a surprise.

As we neared the end of the park, I could see a grand circular building made of orange-red bricks standing across the road.  I thought maybe the Royal Albert Hall was behind that building.  No, that was the Royal Albert Hall, and there were bunches of people going in.  We bought tickets - thankfully there were some left - and went in.  

The theater was beautiful.  Red velvet and ornamentation everywhere, an auditorium that swept round in a circle of 5,272 seats with galleries along the upper edges, softly glowing lights, and the babble of people looking forward to some good music.

The concert was part of a series of summer concerts called the BBC Proms.  I didn't know what that meant, then but I looked it up later.  According to Wikipedia, 

The Proms are concerts which are part of a big music festival. “Proms” is short for “Promenade Concerts”. The Proms are organized by the BBC, so they are called the “BBC Proms”. They take place in the Royal Albert Hall, in London from mid-July to mid-September every year.

The Proms started more than 100 years ago, in 1895. Concerts were expensive in those days, and not many people had enough money to go and hear good music. Most people were only able to hear good music when they went for walks in the London parks where there were Promenade concerts. Orchestras and bands played in bandstands. Most of the music was popular and easy to listen to. People could enjoy the music while they walked about. 

In the centre of London there was a building called the Queen's Hall. A man called Robert Newman organized concerts there. He had an idea. He wanted to start a series of concerts which ordinary people (people who were not rich) could afford to go to. He wanted to start a series of “promenade concerts” (in French “se promener” means “to walk”). The idea was that people could have standing places which would not cost much money. There would also be seats for people who could afford to pay more.

So it was a slightly bigger deal than I thought.  Luckily it was attended by equal parts dressed up concertgoers and casually dressed concertgoers.  I was in the casually dressed (and rather sweaty and tired) category.  

Like the Globe, the Hall had a standing room area in the center right in front of the stage.

The lights darkened and the music began.  It was Bach's Brandenburg Concertos but with a twist.  Three composers from around the world had been assigned one of the concertos and asked to write a companion piece for it.  The orchestra - a string orchestra, not a full orchestra - would play one concerto, then the companion piece, then the next concerto and the next companion piece, and so on.

I was all set to enjoy a lovely concert and luxurious air condition, but only a few minutes in a wave of exhaustion washed over me, and I started nodding off in my chair.  I managed to stay somewhat awake for the first concerto but couldn't keep it up for the first companion piece.  I think I was mostly asleep for that one.  But then I managed to fully wake up for the second concerto and companion piece, and I'm glad I did.  Those were the best ones, I think.  The concerto was good of course, but the companion piece was the most interesting piece played during the concert.  It was definitely more modern with lots of dissonance and sudden changing melodies, which I don't always like, but I liked this one.  The solo violinist was very into his music and a dramatic musician to watch.  There were several long sections of pizzicato.  There were two sections where the bass player did something akin to jazz scat singing.  And the piece itself was intriguing to listen to.  There were moments of harmony, moments of dissonance, moments of confusion.  There were uplifting bits and then sad bits and then ethereal bits.  It was all over the place but somehow had a cohesiveness that kept me engaged.  It kept everybody else engaged too.  At different parts, the audience laughed at what the musicians were doing.  We were meant to laugh, I think.  The musicians sometimes seemed like they were laughing inside as they played.

After that piece, there was one more concerto and companion piece (the other three concertos and companion pieces would be played in the evening concert, which we didn't go to).  I'm sorry to say that with this last one I got bored.  The concerto was nice enough but not terribly interesting, and then I didn't like the companion piece at all.  It was very dissonant and atonal and all over the place but not in a charming way as the former piece had been.  I really wanted it to end much sooner than it did.  The rest of the audience didn't seem to like that piece much either.  Oh well.  My condolences to the conductor.  Still, at the end of the concert, people clapped for a good five minutes or more, and some people even stomped their feet with enthusiasm.  I'm sure the orchestra appreciated it, so that was nice for them, but I secretly worried that they'd be applauded into an encore of another terrible piece that I didn't want to listen to.  Thankfully though, they didn't, and everybody eventually stopped clapping and filed out of the theater.

It had been quite an interesting concert, not what I expected at all but fun anyway.  Even disliking the last piece was kind of enjoyable, and I'm glad I got to hear the second companion piece.  That was the best part.

A and I made one more stop before calling it a day.  We went to the old-fashioned police call box on Earl's Court Road.  I didn't know this before, but A explained to me that police call boxes were for citizen arrests.  If a citizen arrested a criminal, they could lock them inside the police box and then call the police.  I'm not sure how that was legal, and I can see why it's not a thing today, but it's quite interesting that it used to be.  This police box was not unlocked so we couldn't go inside, but it was fun to see it from the outside.  It was large, rectangular, and bright blue.  

After getting a couple pictures, A and I headed back to our host family's house for some much needed sleep.