Chopin and Valldemossa

Last week, I had the privilege of attending a Chopin concert at our local university. A pianist named Robert Nakea performed twenty-four of Chopin's Études . I will admit, as an admirer of his music, but not an expert, I didn't know the difference between études, mazurkas, nocturnes and polonaises. But I did know that I loved the music of Frédéric Chopin.

Mr. Nakea entered the simple stage to an applause, wearing a black suit and red tie, bowed to the audience, and without wasting any time he sat down to a black Steinway piano, adjusted the bench ever so slightly, placed his fingers on the keys and began to play. Never had I seen fingers move so fast! They fluttered like hummingbird wings. I watched as his fingers crawled the scale, then descended, after which he ascended again, then repeated the cycle over and over.

I later learned that “étude” is French for “study.” Chopin created these pieces as practice material, designed to help one perfect a specific skill. This first piece focuses on stretching the fingers of the right hand. As I watched, I'm sure that it did just that, as Mr. Nakea's hands moved up and down the scale with great dexterity. They moved so fast that it was hard to see just how far they were stretched.

By the time the evening was over, Robert Nakea had officially impressed me. He played without a glitch. Not once did he use sheet music, and most often he didn't even glance at the keys. He received a standing ovation when he left the stage.

Twenty-one years ago, I visited the village of Valldemossa on the island of Mallorca. Most of the details of that day have faded away. I remember the village was very picturesque. The little community sat nestled among the green-terraced hills on the northern side of the island. A Medieval monastery with a tall bell tower stood in the middle of town, surrounded by other stone buildings.

This former Carthusian monastery, now a museum, was the temporary home of Frédéric Chopin and his girlfriend and French novelist, George Sand, during the winter of 1838-39. The building wasn't even a monastery when Chopin rented it out. A few years prior, the monks were forced to leave, and it was sold to a private individual.

The two escaped to Mallorca  with hopes that the island weather would help improve his declining health. They were miserably disappointed, not realizing how cold the humid island could become.

Sand later published a book, A Winter in Mallorca, detailing the hardship that they suffered while in the old monastery. In the book, she also recognizes the beauty of the village: “Never have I seen a place so delightful and at the same time so melancholy as this, where the green oak, the carob tree, the pine tree, the olive, the poplar and the cypress mingle their varied hues in a dense, leafy tangle of branches, forming deep green chasms, seared by a rushing torrent beneath a sumptuous undergrowth of exquisite beauty. I shall never forget the spot from which, as one looked back, one could see perched at the top of the hill one of those lovely little Moorish houses, (…) half hidden amongst the foliage of the walnut trees, and the silhouette of a tall palm tree bending over into the void. When I'm plunged into ennui by the sight of the mud and fog of Paris, I close my eyes and see once more, as in a dream, that verdant mountain, those bare rocks, and that solitary palm tree outlined against a distant, rose-colored sky.” 

Chopin remained very productive and composed some of his best preludes and nocturnes while in Valldemosssa.  Among these are his 24 preludes, Op. 28; Ballade No. 2 in F-major, Op. 38; the twin Op. 40 Polonaises; and the Scherzo No. 3, Op. 39 in C-sharp minor.

Among the few details that I remember from my visit is the actual piano that Chopin played on while there. After our tour, we sat down and listened to a thirty minute piano recital of Chopin's music.

That day, a seed was planted inside of me. A seed that would not have taken root had I not been traveling. Yes, I had heard of Frédéric Chopin before this experience, but that was about all. Now I wanted to learn more about him and become familiar with his music. After that day, any time I heard the name Chopin, my ears pricked up and I paid attention.

I bought more postcards than I took pictures. When we took the bus back to our apartment in Palma, I don't think that I brought too many details with me, but rather the knowledge that I had met Chopin in his own territory and now I wouldn't forget him.  It is amazing how travel can teach us things that we normally would not learn.

I had one more experience with Chopin while living in Spain. This was in another city, back on the peninsula. We served as missionaries. A lady that we taught was born and bred in Poland, later emigrating to Spain. Krystina Staniszewska and her daughter Isabella now sat in a chapel with us. While we were waiting, one of the other missionaries, who had been blessed with amazing talent on the piano, approached Krystina and asked her in Spanish, “Do you like Chopin?”

He then proceeded to play from memory a beautiful piece of music on the piano. He probably hadn't played that piece since he had left his home in Chico, California. I didn't know the name of it, but it was very soothing and graceful. I was hooked.