The First Violin Lesson

My buena amiga Karim, who I mentioned a little while back, brought me to her friend’s house for dinner last week for a La Paz version of lasagna. Itwas a strong group of middle-class working women, a few of which also happen to be in a hard-core rock band called Libellula (which is hilarious and fascinating in itself, more on that in a later post). I may actually get the chance to be their violinist - when I first met Karim and told her that I played the violin, she also mentioned that she was in a music group, and I jumped at the chance to meet more people and play a bit of non-classical music. So anyway, I was hanging out with these women at their house, feeling a bit out of place, when I started chatting with Vivi, a really fun and energetic woman…who also mentioned that she owns her grandfather’s old violin. Eager to meet people (anyone, really), I offered to give her lessons, so we exchanged contact info. I’m sure she walked away thinking that I was a nice young gringa, but that I would probably never contact her.

Well…I emailed her a few days back, and tonight she came over to my apartment for a lesson. Before she came over I was thinking to myself: “Nadine, how do you start from scratch with something that feels like it’s my third (and wooden) arm?” I’ve been playing for so long and it’s so natural to me that I had to literally sit myself down and think about how to present the violin to someone who doesn't know what a chin rest or vibratto is. I hadn’t really decided how to give the instrument its proper introduction, but as soon as she took her violin out of its case, I started remembering my first year or so of playing, and with it all of the little tricks and tips that my teacher had used. While it made me happy to show her how to tune the instrument, how to hold it, and how to use the bow correctly, the best part, far and way, was seeing the look of surprise on her face when she realized that could make a sound all on her own. And yes, it did inflate my ego a little bit when Vivi told me that I was a great teacher, but my sense of pride came mostly from knowing that I could (potentially) bring someone into “the world of the violin,” as she called it.

I’ve always said that if I were to save one thing in a house fire, it would be my violin, but this is perhaps the first time in my life that I’ve truly known how important it is to me. I honestly don’t know what I would do without it here in La Paz. It’s like an automatic stress reliever - hearing the echoes of my slightly unpolished rendition of a Bach sonata reminds me of home, but mostly it brings me to a place where no one and nothing can touch me, not even the intense pangs of homesickness that I feel every now and then.

When she asked me if she could pay me, which is of course ridiculous, I got a little flustered and shushed her. So I told her, instead, that she could bring me a nice bottle of wine Bolivian wine, and also that she could show me around her favorite parts of the city. So on Saturday we’re going to wander through Miraflores, exploring the part of the city that I don’t really know yet. So even if this whole public health-volunteering deal is a bust, at least I've got my violin.