I shall now rewind my recollections of Spain by going backwards. At this time of night, I’m also trying to unwind from the long day of planning ahead and juggling a portfolio career in Utrecht.
Any day now we will be receiving the CD recording of our first concert in that beautiful villa in Madrid. When Robert returns from Maastricht, where he is finishing the transcriptions of live flamenco music taken in Seville, he will continue viewing and clipping the video of our concert of 21st century music at the MACUF (Museum of Contemporary Arts in Coruña) — our raison d’etre for going to Spain in the first place. Had it not been for the invitation to take part in this didactic concert series of music of 20th and 21st centuries, we wouldn’t have gone to Madrid, La Coruña, Santiago de Compostela, and Ferrol.
Until the Madrid CD and the MACUF video, I will go through my photo and video albums, select the ones worth sharing and remembering on this blog, and walk down memory lane for as long as I can.
After the MACUF concert, which ended around 14:00 on Sunday 3 May, we explored the Galician coast. The rest of this blog is all about that day in La Coruña.
It was an achingly beautiful day. The sun warmed our skins, and the Atlantic Ocean roared loud and clear. Robert watched the distant surfers with envy and declared that he would hunt for a wet suit to join them. I was content just being outside and near the water.
The wind blew us in one direction. As we walked and talked, I noticed the figure in front of us.
“I know this person.”
“Who? Him?” Robert pointed to the young man ahead of us.
“Yes! He looks very familiar. Where have I seen him before?”
I quickened my steps to catch up with him. I walked in front of him and turned my head.
“You! Didn’t I meet you in Utrecht? What are you doing here?” I stopped him dead in his tracks. “Sorry, I forgot your name!”
He looked at me quizzically.
“Miguel,” he said. “Anne Ku, what are YOU doing here?”
“You remembered my name!” I laughed and pointed to Robert. “Have you met? This is Robert Bekkers.”
“Yes, we’ve met. I saw your photo in the newspaper this morning.” Miguel scratched his head. “Contemporary music? You gave a concert today?”
I met Miguel in Utrecht in 2007 or so. He was a very enthusiastic Spaniard who asked what I composed. I replied that there were still two piano solo pieces that have not yet been premiered. Would he like a copy?
“I’m going to accompany singers tonight,” Miguel said. “I have to hurry. Where are you staying? What’s your number? Let’s get together later.”
We spent the rest of the day walking along the coast, visiting the aquarium, and climbing to the cliff that offered a panoramic view of the ocean.
By the time we meandered into town, we were hungry and tired. At 9 pm, my mobile phone rang.
“Where are you?” asked Miguel, the pianist.
“At Maria Pita Square,” I said. “Or is it Pita Maria Square?”
“Okay! I will be there in 10 minutes.”
Seconds later, my phone rang again. It was Ruben, the composer. He arrived with Paula. After introductions, we walked to a nonsmoking bar to have drinks and tapas.
The phone rang again. It was David, the pianist.
“I hear you have made a lot of friends. I won’t join you tonight. Have fun!”