Summary: Chance timing leads to an amazing, unforgettable moment of music and email.
The weather the last week we were in Portugal was especially rainy and windy.
In fact, the Duoro River separating Porto from Gaia flooded its banks the last day we were there. We saw the rising river the night before. But on our last day the winds and driving rain kept us close to our hotel, so we didn’t see the flooding firsthand.
Annie wanted to brave the elements to visit the Santa Clara Church (Igreja de Santa Clara) which was just a 6-minute walk from our hotel. It was supposed to be a spectacular Baroque style cathedral.
The wind blew hard and turned my sturdy umbrella inside out at one point, but we made it.
Upon entering we were told that visiting hours were just now closing due to a concert. Well, could we attend the concert? Yes, for €5 each. We paid and entered a cathedral entirely gilded from floor to ceiling. It was breathtaking.
The organ was playing and an unseen ethereal soprano voice was heard singing a lamentation. The sound emanated from the choir loft.
After the song was finished, a woman invited us up the stairs to a room where nuns had gathered and sung, unseen, during prior centuries. The front of the room had a large window into the cathedral. A gilded wooden grid prevented those in the cathedral below to see into the room.
A wooden box the size of a large wardrobe housed the organ keyboard, and our guide, who turned out to be the organist/choir director told us about the music (composed by an 18th century Portuguese composer) the organ, etc. She addressed the assembled audience in three languages: English, Portuguese, and Spanish.
Two young woman stood by, and after the organist finished talking, she sat down and they performed a couple more pieces by the same composer.
After the concert, the organist answered questions, then invited people up to play the organ. A few visitors poked a single key here or there. I couldn’t resist.
I quickly pulled up a simplified arrangement of Allegri’s incomparable Miserere mei, Deus on my cell phone. I stumbled slowly through it, squinting at the score on the tiny screen balanced on a rickety, 300-year-old wooden music rack. The sound of the organ was subdued and warm as the prior performance had just been for just the small room we were in.
The choir director, apparently pleased either that someone was playing an actual piece or with my musical choice (or both) leaned in close and said, “don’t be scared” — and literally pulled out the stops.
Suddenly, the sound of the great organ boomed forth filling not just our room but the entire church below. The sound felt like it was resonating in and through my body. I struggled to keep playing, self-conscious of my many mistakes and emotionally and physically shaken by the aural bombast.
I played only a page of the music before stopping. That was enough — and an actual church service was about to begin.
We thanked the organist profusely for the opportunity (how often does one get to play an 18th century organ?). When she found out it was our honeymoon, she was effusive in wishing us happiness and was glad to have made this memorable experience part of our celebratory vacation.
Descending the stairs and exiting out into the driving rain, my hands and body continued to tremble for several minutes in the aftermath of such a physical and aural musical sensation.
What were the chances?
Had we visited just an hour earlier, we’d have seen the spectacular church interior, taken photos, read some plaques, then left. Annie laughed when she noted that the regular admission was €4. By mere chance of timing (and €1 extra) we got this amazing and unforgettable experience.
I would have to say this experience was, in the accurate use of the word…awesome.
Blatant Calm 