Thanks for tuning into the latest post of my summer blog about my adventures in Eastern Europe!
One of the hardest aspects of traveling through Eastern Europe this summer has been the language barrier. While the core of our group's studies have been in Yiddish literature and language, in the places we’ve traveled to (Belarus, Poland, and Lithuania), we have had to pick up parts of each country's spoken language. Over the past 2 weeks I’ve had to learn some Russian, Polish, and Lithuanian just to get by. Not knowing the language of the people in the country one's traveling in has been both overwhelming and difficult.
The small lake in Suvalki that our group visited One of the hardest aspects of traveling through Eastern Europe this summer has been the language barrier. While the core of our group's studies have been in Yiddish literature and language, in the places we’ve traveled to (Belarus, Poland, and Lithuania), we have had to pick up parts of each country's spoken language. Over the past 2 weeks I’ve had to learn some Russian, Polish, and Lithuanian just to get by. Not knowing the language of the people in the country one's traveling in has been both overwhelming and difficult.
A very special moment for me on this trip was when I was able to have communication with people without spoken dialogue. This past Thursday, our group travelled to Suvalki, Poland to study the works of Yiddish poet Morris Rosenfeld. Suvalki used to be the home of this great poet, and our group sat out beside the small lake that Rosenfeld himself used to write by. After reading his poetry, most of the group swimming in the gorgeous lake – it was a beautiful day. I was part of a small group that didn’t go swimming (I lost my bathing suit, go figure… I ended up finding it later). But I think it was some part of fate that I lost the bathing suit because something amazing happened. Out of NO WHERE, our small group heard a little band of young girls singing. They sounded like angels – their pitches were perfect, their harmonies spot on. I looked over and saw this group of 4 girls, sisters of different ages, walking through the tall grass, singing together.
Josh, a member of our group, couldn’t resist walking over to the girls and speaking to them. He brought the girls over to us, and since we hardly spoke Polish, and they hardly spoke English, it was very hard to communicate. I said to them “Your song - beautiful”; and that much, they understood. They seemed to have read my mind and they sang it again for us. The only way I can describe my feelings is that my heart melted. They were perfect. I was stunned.
In the nick of time, the rest of the helix group got out of the lake and walked over to us. As a full ensemble, we sang to the girls one of our Yiddish songs that we had been taught on the trip. They were amazed, they had probably never even heard of Yiddish – they even clapped for us. The girls’ mother walked over, as did our translator, and the family invited our group to their small home in the countryside, where they would put on a small concert for us. Let me say that when a group of small musical prodigies invite you to their home to play more music… there is only one way to respond.
In the nick of time, the rest of the helix group got out of the lake and walked over to us. As a full ensemble, we sang to the girls one of our Yiddish songs that we had been taught on the trip. They were amazed, they had probably never even heard of Yiddish – they even clapped for us. The girls’ mother walked over, as did our translator, and the family invited our group to their small home in the countryside, where they would put on a small concert for us. Let me say that when a group of small musical prodigies invite you to their home to play more music… there is only one way to respond.
At their small house, I heard some of the most beautiful music ever played live. These sisters, none of them older than 16, played the violin, piano, clarinet, and other instruments so beautifully; I was amazed. The family is from Warsaw, Poland and every summer they come to Suvalki to relax, swim, and play music together. The family has a mom, dad, and seven daughters – each of whom play an instrument. They are basically the Von Trapps, but real people. The family was so kind to us; they were constantly laughing and smiling.
I may not have understood a word of what the little girls said to me, but when two of the sisters played an Ave Maria duet on the violins and we sang back to them in Yiddish, we were speaking in an even more beautiful – universal – language. I thought, “Wow, this is it. Music is what connects us.”
Music has played such a large role in my life and up till now, I never realized how much it connects me not just to feelings within myself, but to other people. I will always remember the family we met in Suvalki – complete strangers that we shared such a beautiful moment with, and for that, we have music to thank.
I may not have understood a word of what the little girls said to me, but when two of the sisters played an Ave Maria duet on the violins and we sang back to them in Yiddish, we were speaking in an even more beautiful – universal – language. I thought, “Wow, this is it. Music is what connects us.”
Music has played such a large role in my life and up till now, I never realized how much it connects me not just to feelings within myself, but to other people. I will always remember the family we met in Suvalki – complete strangers that we shared such a beautiful moment with, and for that, we have music to thank.