I’ve heard about travelers getting burned out with all of the beautiful churches and cathedrals that they visit: doors seems to all start looking the same; there’s another huge, old organ; wow, another stained glass window. I don’t know if this is something that I’ll ever experience. Or at least I hope not any time soon!
During my study abroad in Germany, my classmates and I visited numerous churches and cathedrals. Our weekend excursions to other countries had out checking out even more cathedrals.
I fell in love with the Berliner Dom in – you guessed it – Berlin.
St. Mary’s Basilica in Kraków had me in silent tears.
Saint Wenceslas Cathedral in Olomouc, Czech Republic left me speechless.
Every. Single. One. of the houses of worship that I visited, I gazed longingly at the organs. I just wanted to touch one. Play one. Hear one being played. I didn’t care: I wanted to hear what a 100+ year-old organ sounded like in real life. Never happened.
I don’t play the organ very well at all. I can chunk out a few hymns that I taught myself out of necessity, but of course in my mind, I can sit down and bust out “Phantom of the Opera” like it was nobody’s business.
Fast-forward a few years to a road trip through Transylvania.
After a looooong journey from Salt Lake City, I landed in Bucharest, picked up my friend and our rental car, and took off for Brasov. Nestled in a lush valley and surrounded by the Carpathian Mountains, Brasov is home to the Black Church (Biserica Neagră), a 500+ year-old gothic church with a 4,000-pipe organ! Seriously. Considered one of the biggest in Europe, the Black Church organ was built between 1836-1839 by Buchholz, the notable Berlin organ maker.
As my friend Nikki and I wandered around the historic old town square of Brasov, we found our way towards the Black Church: it was on my bucket list.
I needed to check out this organ and was suddenly like a moth to a flame. We slowly made our way to the front entrance of the church and noticed a poster outside, indicating that there was going to be an organ recital later that evening.
Yes, please.
Side note: there’s a significant German population throughout Romania, so many of the signs we came across were in both Romanian and German…which meant that I could read them!
It was so crazy how I felt when realized that I could read the sign. It was almost like I was back in Germany and could fully function again.
I felt comfortable. Confident. No longer helpless and fully reliant upon Nikki for figuring things out.
We returned at the appointed time to purchase our tickets and find seats for the concert. Anyone who has ever been to an organ concert will tell you that there really isn’t a bad seat in the house.
And it’s true.
The organ pipes resonate beyond the church and make it accessible for all to enjoy. As we made our way to our seats, I noticed that most of the people congregating were a lot older than Nikki and I.
And judging by the fact that I couldn’t understand a word they were saying, I guessed that most (if not all) of them were locals.
Taking our seats on the wooden pew, I couldn’t believe it. I was finally getting my organ concert in Europe. I started kicking my feet and swinging my legs like a little child, barely able to contain myself.
Nikki and I quietly chatted about the concert and the 3 pieces that we were about to hear, when my ears suddenly piqued.
I heard Americans.
3 travelers about my age sat down next to me, backpacks on their laps, maps in their hands. I started to chat with them, excited to see if they were going to be sticking around or heading out.
I was saddened to hear that they were only in for the organ concert because they needed a cool place to sit and get off their feet.
That none of them actually wanted to listen to an organ concert. That this was just a time-killer until they could go “hit the clubs,” or whatever it was they said.
I honestly stopped listening to them as soon as I realized they thought organ concerts were for old people. Whatever.
Now somebody give me a puka shell necklace. I’m going full douche.
Detective Jake Peralta, “Brooklyn Nine-Nine”
6pm hit and the organ started to play. My aching feet didn’t matter anymore. The douches next to me faded away into nothingness.
All that mattered was that I was finally getting my organ concert.
Melodies flowed through my ears and into my heart.
Pictures weren’t allowed in the church, so the memories will stay in my mind forever.
I can’t believe I finally attended an organ concert in Europe!
Have you ever attended an organ concert in Europe? Or any other type of concert?
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