Today the first concert we booked was not until 6:00 pm, so we decided to drive to La Rochelle, a seaport town about an hour away. In case you’re wondering, I am doing all the driving while Bill Potter is doing the navigating. I am absolutely terrible at reading maps so it’s better this way, and I am slowly getting the hang of all these roundabouts!

Here’s how Google describes La Rochelle:

La Rochelle is a coastal city in southwestern France and capital of the Charente-Maritime department. It’s been a center for fishing and trade since the 12th century, a maritime tradition that’s reflected in its Vieux Port (old harbor) and huge, modern Les Minimes marina. The old town has half-timbered medieval houses and Renaissance architecture, including passageways covered by 17th-century arches.

When my husband Carl and I went to the Saintes Festival in 2010, we also took a day to visit La Rochelle, and we found the cool sea breezes to be a welcome respite from the heat. Today, however, it was pretty warm in La Rochelle, with only occasional breezes in the shade. Still, it’s a very picturesque town as you can see by my photos.

We stopped at the Church of Saint-Sauveur only to find that there was the noon mass in progress so we stopped to rest in a small park near city hall. After about twenty minutes of trying to cool off in the shade, we finally entered the church and of course there was an organ inside.

Today was Bill Potter’s birthday which we celebrated with ceviche and fries at a waterfront restaurant. We both ordered lemonade for which I was very glad they served with ice on this hot day.

When I posted birthday greetings to Bill on Facebook, I looked through my photos for selfies which we had taken on our five trips together over the last two years. I came up with 115 (!) photos from which to choose when I made this collage. By the way, the countries which we have visited include: France, Spain, Portugal, England, Scotland, Greece, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Germany, Austria, Czech Republic, and Liechtenstein. (Wow!)

Tonight’s concert was another extraordinary event—a concert by Ensemble La Sportelle, pairing the music of Bach with Mendelssohn. Even though the program listed Rollin Emmeran as the artistic director and organist, the group seemingly sang without anyone waving their hands. The choir opened with an a cappella motet by Mendelssohn, Mein Gott, warum hast du mich verlassen? and I knew already that the singing was going to be gorgeous. In fact, I would call this group’s singing choral perfection, never pushing, always relaxed and effortless. Interspersed with motets by Mendelssohn were movements from Bach cantatas number 4 (Christ lag in Todesbanden) and 106 (Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit), accompanied by a continuo organ without pedals. This concert is the first we have heard at modern pitch, and it was only in the Bach motet, Komm Jesu, komm (BWV 229) that I felt it would have been better to use baroque pitch of A=415.

The program listed Bach’s Nun komm der Heiden Heiland, BWV 659, but that would have been impossible to play without a pedalboard. So the organist played several movements for manuals only from Sei gegrüsset, Jesu gütig, BWV 768, one of my favorites.

There were several moments in which I thought the choral singing was absolutely exquisite: the soprano and alto soloists singing Den Tod niemand zwingen kunnt from Cantata 4; and the solo In deine Hände with the chorus of women singing Mit Fried und Freud in the background. I couldn’t help but think of that moment when we played Cantata 106 at Carl’s deathbed and he was visibly moved. (See my previous post, “Bach to the end”)

Shortly after we arrived at St. Francis West, Carl became completely unresponsive and was unable to speak at all. John Renke joined Carl’s sister, Carol, and me around his bedside, and he pulled up Bach Cantata 106 from YouTube, Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit (God’s time is the best time), with Gustav Leonhardt conducting. It was a beloved recording we had played many times, and after the familiar strains of the opening sinfonia, a miracle happened. At the beginning of the opening chorus, Carl lifted his left hand and started to conduct! It was truly a miracle, because we knew he was unable to move his arms and legs! The three of us were witnesses to Carl’s hearing this most beloved Bach work, which you can hear in the video link above.

What a day it’s been!