Never a Day Like Mito

   It was the big red "A" that did it.
   Three resolute travelers – Cincinnati Symphony violist Judith Martin, retired CSO violist Allen Martin (Judy’s husband) and I – emerged from the subway in Sapporo, Japan just after 11 p.m. Nov. 4 (that's 9 a.m. in Cincinnati).
   We were looking for a tall white building, the Hotel Arthur Sapporo, first stop on the CSO’s two-week tour of Japan. It had been a 26-hour trek from Cincinnati and we were ready to call it a day.
   Our instructions were "5 minutes from the subway," but despite Judy’s serviceable Japanese and a courteous reception by people on the street, no one was able to help us (as it turned out, there is also a Hotel Alpha in Sapporo). After wandering a couple of blocks, we spotted a likely building with a large "A" near the top.
   Thinking we had found the Emerald City at last, we trudged ahead, carry on luggage in tow. Sure enough, just inside the entrance was a large banner: "Welcome Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra Japan Tour 2003."
   For me, it was the beginning of an adventure that came to include CSO principal harpist Gillian Benet Sella, her husband Uri and their children Adam, 4, and Tamar, nine months.
   It was a grueling trip, eight concerts in seven cities, from Sapporo on the northernmost island of Hokkaido to Kitakyushu in the south. We took the same commercial flights as the CSO, but the rest of the time we climbed on and off public transportation, sharpening our tracking skills, testing muscles and joints, and getting to know the helpful people of Japan. (According to the CSO musicians’ contract, only members of the orchestra and staff are permitted to travel on CSO buses.)
   Most of the time, I traveled with the Martins, without whose mutual support and camaraderie, the trip would have been vastly more difficult - and lonely. At other times, I was truly on my own.
   I am a seasoned traveler and accustomed to traveling by myself. I followed the CSO on its 1995 tour of Europe, where I remember waiting by a railroad track in the middle of the night for a ride back to Bern (Switzerland) after a concert in Fribourg. I have explored Vienna on foot and by tram, including a spooky visit to the cemetery where Mozart is buried in an unmarked grave )the exact spot is unknown). I have traveled to Estonia, where I was enchanted by the Old Town in Tallinn and heard CSO music director Paavo Järvi conduct at the new concert hall in Pärnu.
   But I have never had a day like Mito.
   In the orbit of Tokyo, Mito is a "country town" about 100 km to the north. I was advised by the CSO to skip Mito, but I did not go to Japan to skip things, so after advice from Japan Arts (CSO presenter in Japan), I decided to go for it. It was four legs from Sapporo: by air to Tokyo, monorail to Hamamatsucho, train to Ueno, then another train to Mito. Ueno to Mito was supposed to take one hour.
   Three out of four isn’t bad, but if a sympathetic young man hadn’t noticed my alarm at finding no sign of Mito after three hours on the train and showed me where to get off (it was a local, not the express), I might have had to spend the night somewhere and find my way back to the tour the next day.
   That was just the beginning. I asked a cab driver in Mito to take me to "Ibaraki Prefectural Concert Hall." He did not understand (it has a different name in Japanese, I learned later). I exited the cab and hailed another. The second driver literally went the extra mile because I was able to explain that I was looking for a concert. On a best bet, he drove to a large plaza, parked and ran up the stairs to check the placards. "Akiko Suwanai?" he said (Japanese violinist Suwanai was guest artist on the tour).
   Giving him his well-deserved yen, I hauled my carry-ons up the stairs (I had not yet checked into the Tokyo hotel) and arrived just in time to see Järvi don white gloves and flip the switch on the Christmas lighting outside the hall.
   No time to eat, I went directly to the hall, where I was seated, then asked to move because I had a duplicate ticket. I cried through the whole concert ("Was it that bad?" Järvi said later).
   My eternal thanks go to CSO violinists Luo-Jia Wu and Chika Kato Wu, who were on their way to her parents’ home in Yokohama, for riding the train with me back to Tokyo. Another taxi and I made it to the hotel, frazzled but grateful.
   There were other mishaps.  My laptop broke down in Tokyo and I had to buy a new one.  I had to transmit one of my stories story to The Cincinnati Post from an all-night internet café using a computer with Japanese characters.  Still, I did not lose my enthusiasm for the tour.
   To see the CSO soar in Japan – crowds who would not stop applauding, fans lined up to have Järvi sign programs and CDs, the sheer numbers at each concert – was thrilling beyond words.
   I heard Järvi inspired and the orchestra give 1,000 percent. I heard performances I will never forget, Sibelius’ Second Symphony in Yokohama, Berlioz’ "Symphonie fantastique" in Suntory Hall in Tokyo.
   And I have fond memories:  of traveling with the Martins (fellow violists, since I was a violist in a former life), of watching Adam and Tamar play in the subway stations and the grace of their devoted parents.
   I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
(first published in The Cincinnati Post Nov. 25, 2003)