Here I am shootin the s with my friend Tiff one Romanian afternoon on a park bench outside, when all of a sudden, Tiff asks, "What's that guy got on his back?" I look over, and lo and behold, the guy's sportin' a huge white cello case. I have seriously been trying to find a cello since month one, just for kicks, so I take this as my sign. Good thing I'm wearing my Sunday best- and by best, I mean sweatpant capris+ three day unwashed hair+African sandals that are officially rotting…I'm sure the site of me sprinting toward this guy isn't exactly comforting, but, I throw caution to the darn wind in this last month of the race, and take off.
I make it to the cello guy and windedly explain that I'm American, that I've been looking for a cello for almost a year, and if he would just let me play it right here for a minute that would be awesome- this is all said with a crazy eyed, too toothy smile in hopes that the guy would have pity on such a ragamuff.The guy is caught off guard to say the least, but he says, "Not here, but you can come to my rehearsal just over there…"
Sweet Caroline, this is turning out better than I thought… I ask if my friend can come along, and when Mr. Cello agrees, I classily scream and run toward Tiff to get our stuff and follow him. We walk in stride with our new friend as he asks where we're from, and makes convo, quite nicely mind you-he totes gets the etiquette of a "stop and chat" if you know what I mean. I ask him how long he's been playing cello and he says, "It's kind of my job."
I'm semi- taken aback, and as we step into this pretty sweet theatre where his rehearsal is, I realize that he's a profesh.
There's a full orchestra rehearsing-black tie affair, you could say. Turns out it's some international performance because there are some fellow Yanks, a few Asians-missed those guys from the first half of this race, and some Brits. Also turns out that Mr. Cello has a solo…
At intermish, he lets me come down to the stage and play his cello- which he tells me he didn't want to take outside because it's pretty expensive… and by pretty expensive, it turns out that it's a cello from the 1800's-it's actually this famous cellist's named Pierre Fournier- all I'm sayin is, that's like Mozart worthy.
So, reality check- I'm on a Romanian stage at a pretty classy theatre in my hobo clothes(after I asked Mr. Cello how long he's been playing). I get to attempt to play something on this instrument that's of Beethoven caliber. I'm cracking up because me playing this guys' cello is like Paris Hilton asking to play Slash's guitar. Tiff and I then get invited to the concert the day after… I'm dying/on cloud nine/in disbelief.
After I scratch around some notes, Mr. Cello asks if he can "have a go," because he has to warm up… turns out he's like the most sought after cellist in Romania(named Razvan Gabriel Suma)
Tiff and I stick around to hear his solo, we're freaking out at the fact we're even allowed to sit in the same room as these hoity toities-wondering how we got there in the first place… As I'm in deep thought and cracking up to myself at my life during Mr. Cello's amazing recital that's breathtakingly talented, I hear an obnoxious cell phone ring. I scoff at the unsophisticated idiot who forgot to turn off their phone during one of the most beautiful renditions of angelic orchestral amazingness.
Then, I realize that the obnoxious ring is actually coming from my crappy napsack of a purse. I'm pretty sure my heart stops/I get blotchies instantly, if you know what I mean… I grab my purse and anything in sight and clunk/flop/clog out of the auditorium, managing to drop a 2 litre water bottle, a camera, and some other obscure object along the way… let's just say it was less than discreet. I am mortified/more embarrassed than ever and Tiff comes running to meet me outside.
We decide that leaving a thank you note would be best, so I scratch a thank you and sneak back in to place it in his cello case. Then, just to top things off, Tiff has to make a third re-entry to pick up the camera case I aso dropped.
Anyways- the whole thing is beyond blog worthy, made month and/or year. The coolest thing about this whole reality tv moment= at the beginning of this story when I said I was "shootin the s" with Tiff, I was really complaining/discussing God stuff- having a lot of doubts,etc… and in walks the coolest guy ever giving me a "Make a Wish" foundation of a day.
All I'm sayin is, I found this verse this morn, and it reminded me of this insane, once in a lifetime thing that seems to only happen to world racers-
Psalm 116:7 "Be at rest O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you."
