A few days ago, I had a gig. A wedding gig. I probably haven't played a wedding gig since 1995 and while I was in university, weddings were my bread and butter. Yes, there have been weddings to play for since, but only as a favor for personal friends and/or family.
I had only been called a few days earlier and I was given the violin part of Rachmaninov's Vocalise by a colleague who couldn't play because there was a QPO concert that night. I was to play along with a CD.
Earlier in the day, the bride's cousin called me to tell me I should come directly to the bride's suite. I arrived at the Sheraton Hotel quite early. One never knows what the traffic will be like here in Doha. I knocked on the door and entered a small suite with half a dozen Qatari girls having their make-up and hair done. I thought I would die of hairspray inhalation.
This is the first time I've actually seen a Qatari woman without an
abaya. Here in Qatar, the native women usually wear a black cloak with a black head scarf. The young ones often don't cover their faces, but many woman either wear a veil over their head covering, thus covering their faces, or they cover everything but their eyes.
I assume the girls who were being made up were sisters and cousins of the bride. I was told to sit down on a couch and wait. I pulled out a magazine and settled in. A while later, one of the girls put a CD in the player and I was told I could practice. It turned out I would be "bow-sinking". At the end of the piece there was even a radio-like fade-out to other music which meant I couldn't even play to the last note of the piece.
My little rehearsal done, I saw back down to wait it out. One by one, the girls left to go down to the party in one of the large hotel banquet rooms. Most of them were wearing elegant evening gowns. One was even wearing a short gown with a long stiff polka-dot train.
Eventually it was just me, the bride, the photographer and the videographer. The bride was getting more and more nervous by the second, but she was still able to pose beautifully for the photographer. Sadly, I wasn't allowed to take photos. Then the photographer began to talk about marriage. She switched from speaking Arabic to speaking English and we must have scared the poor bride to death when we both agreed that no matter what you think about marriage, it will be different from what you expect. The photographer was telling her all about how she would lose her privacy and freedom.
Apparently the family was fairly open-minded, because the bride told me she actually knows her groom, who is her cousin. Normally the bride has only seen pictures. I asked how the family decides. She said it is always a cousin. Scary.
The bride was wearing a normal western white wedding dress, but they covered her with a black shawl so she could make her way down to the banquet room without being seen by any men. I noticed with horror that the price tag was still on the shawl. I called it to the attention of one of her relatives following behind who asked with a twinkle in her eye, "How much does she cost?"
I entered the banquet room where the music was blaring so loud that it was no problem to warm up. I could hardly hear myself. When it was nearing time to play, I set up my stand on a cat-walk and tried to look around without being too obvious. I was suprised to see lots of cleavage, chubby little girls in evening gowns as well as some older woman in burqas (at least I think they were older - it was hard to tell). I waited for my cue which consisted of a short period of yelling that sounded like yodeling on fast forward and then came the Rachmaninov. I played my heart out, but the music was so loud, I could hardly hear myself. The poor bride had to enter the room through a white velvet curtain and walk slowly towards the catwalk on camera and followed by a spotlight. She stopped next to me and waited for the Rachmaninov to end. Poor girl. The piece is more than seven minutes long. Both repeats!! She tried her best to remain poised, but there was terror behind that smile. I tried to calm her by smiling encouragingly as she walked towards me.
When I was finished, I tried to leave gracefully and as I packed, I watched the corner screen. It looked as if the women of the family were showering her with papers and screaming and dancing around her. I'm not sure what happened after that, but I think I will send the bride a text message one of these days to see how she is. It was only after I left the room that I realized there wasn't a single man in there. I guess they had their own party.
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Two days ago we had a chance to go see the Federer play Davydenko in the men's semi-finals of the Qatar Open. I've never been to a tennis tournament, but it seemed to me that it was a pretty exciting game.We were high up, but almost in the center and it was no problem to see well. It's a great stadium.
This is Federer.
And here are the VIPs, including the Emir of Qatar.
Federer lost. Poor guy!
