Saturday, May 22

We got up in the morning, maybe too early for some of us, and met at Ettenheim church to go over the day's game plan with Ken (Bradley is visiting friends near Koblenz today). Ken was in the middle of his preaching to the choir when we heard the sanctuary doors open. We turned around to see our old friends from Espelkamp, Leo, Toby and the Tabeas making their way toward us. We jumped from our seats and there followed a furious frenzy of hugging, back slapping and chest bumping. What made it even better was when we gound out they were coming with us to Strasbourg! We loaded up the bus, German buddies in tow, and pulled away from the church, headed for France. We reached our destination and Ken led us through the warm, sunny streets of Strasbourg, France to the majestic gothic cathedral that soared over the city. We wandered around inside the church for a while, taking pictures and studying the stained glass windows, then roamed through the tourist shops that surrounded the cathedral, occasionally getting attacked by the rogue head-massager Leo had brought. After a while, we met back at the cathedral for our chance to see the huge astronomical clock chime at midday within the cathedral itself. Each of us were packed in the crowd like crazed Schubert fans in a moshpit as we strained to see the great clock chime in a great display of crowing roosters, bell ringing skeletons, and hourglass turing cherubs. It was amaing for the two minutes it lasted. After the clock show, we filed back outside again. A few of us managed to climb the high cathedral tower that, well, towered over the city. The group then split up, some of us wandering off to explore the city further and buy absolutley sinful amounts of French chocolate, and the rest of us went to sit on a canal tourboat for an hour or more, putting our pupils through a workout, constantly adjusting and readjusting to the light as we floated under bridge after bridge. We got back on the bus and drove back to Ettenheim, where we rehearsed, then hung out for an hour or so in and around the church before we dressed, ate, and gave the concert, which i think the guys at least will agree was our sweatiest yet. John Murray was particularly notable that night, as he demostrated his unerring accuracy when taking pitched from the director, even if the pitch given happened to be, shall we say, way too high (editorial note: a half step is only " a little too high). We can count on you, John. Just for kicks and giggles, we threw in a bit of Broadway-style pizazz during "He Never Failed Me Yet" leaning in toward Bradley, which may have conjured images for him of a choir wide mutiny and uprising. Oh yes, and the local press was there. After the final notes had died, the congregation treated us to an Ettenheim specialty, which may or may not have had a little bit of rum in it. Still very tasty nonetheless. Afterwards, the choir and its unfortunately ailing director (Bradley became ill today) went back to our homestays for the night, only able to guess what the next day could possibly hold for us.

Clayton Bontrager