Tuesday evening: a enchanting adventure. I have learnt, truly last-minute, that the St Johns' College Cambridge Choir were going to be singing in our gorgeous St Philip Cathedral in Buckhead, to celebrate their five-hundredth anniversary. Thanks WABE Radio for spreading the good word! Amazing what one can learn while ironing one's undies and such. So off I went, to the Cathedral. It is a surprisingly imposing, Neo-Gothic building. Surprisingly - because it reminded me rather of European catholic churches than the more toned-down churches of the South.
The last rays of the evening sun were sneaking through the stained glass windows when I entered the Cathedral, and the atmosphere seemed softly quiet and dignified. But the place was packed to the brim, and it was actually beaming with excitement! By the time the St Johns' boys came out to bow for the first time, all seats were taken. Gentlemen wore elegant suits and some even bore boutonnieres! Ladies ravished with silks, pearls and discrete scent of perfume.
And then the music started... all was now harmony, and beauty, and peace, and this mysterious Zen which choral music always manages to command. My heart melted, although goodness knows that so did my backside. The seat was somewhat late-pregnancy-unfriendly. Pregnant backsides require softness, and softness was nowhere to be seen. But I quickly brushed off these trivialities. Whatever the painful reality, the music "went forth into a joyless world of swords and rhetoric to bring it joy". The boys went through this interesting piece by Walton (momentous words by Auden) like a storm, after performing a selection of older music. My favourite was 'Libera Nos' by Sheppard. They received a long standing ovation - of which I was an enthusiastic participant - I do not need to mention how happy I was to lift the aforementioned backside off the seat. That's the 'high culture' part.
Now, for the 'low culture'. Enjoying the retired lifestyle, we particularly delight in sampling the plentiful eateries, markets and other food-related establishments of Atlanta. So off we went Thursday lunchtime to the Sweet Auburn Curb Market. This urban oasis of trade in all sorts of exotic and local foods and drinks is almost one hundred years old, and is apparently located exactly in the geographical centre of Atlanta. It reminded me of city markets in places like Florence, Budapest, Bucharest or Gdynia, although no doubt it was a little smaller. Perhaps it has seen better days - some stalls were empty. But what was there was exciting, and fresh, and buzzing. As we wandered through the aisles and admired creatively displayed goodies and the bars and food stalls spread here and there, we were reflecting on the crowd surrounding us. No doubt this is a true working market, where the local not-so-affluent acquire their daily essentials. But every so often one could see the hip and the young, sometimes even elegant office workers, artists, lawyers, and whoever else thought it was an interesting place for lunch.
The market offers meat and vegetables from local producers, has a very tempting bakery, a cute coffee shop with great Cappuccinos and 'cowboy cookies', the 'Afrodish restaurant', the 'Bell St. Burritos', and of course the Grindhouse Killer Burgers! Oh, the latter are something to enjoy. The Burger bar is right in the heart of the market, and you end up sitting on high bar stools facing a tiled wall with an old-style sign and two other not-to-miss sights. One: a projection of 'best of' of Flash Gordon (the movie), the other: a flamboyant looking burger-maker, who is quite difficult to capture on camera, every now and then peeking through the hole in the wall.
The place was crowded, noisy; people were friendly and did not mind squeezing in to make more space for newcomers. A young woman wearing an interesting head scarf was shouting at the man in the wall: 'where is my burger?' and chatting with a waitress. While we were there, our neighbours at the table were a bunch of ambulance crews, some city policemen, and some local office workers wearing suits and ties. Later, a group of hospital doctors joined in the fun: all of them wearing green uniforms and one even something that looked like head gear worn during operations. As I was ingesting the burger, I thought that it was good to be sitting there. Felt like a small piece in a large human machine - a good piece in a good machine. That's the 'low culture' part.
I love the sound of this! Literally and metaphorically. My nephew used to sing in the choir at Winchester Cathedral and it was gorgeous listening to them. Glad to hear you're keeping so busy.
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