By the time you’re reading this column, I will have become another year older, which means my age is now commensurate with my bum size. As much as I hope that this phenomenon does not continue every year from here on, do allow me to be a tad sentimental, looking back on the past 365 days of blessedness.
“Sentimental.” I have rarely been sentimental, ever since my world fell apart when things did not work out with my ex, Eric 11 years ago, and when my grandfather passed away six years ago. Since then, I’ve always tried hard to not allow anything to make me feel that hole in my heart, a hole that I have carefully filled up by building myself up in other facets of life.
People around me may not know about this, but I keep a mental tab of how many times I cry each year; for 2022, so far, it has been twice (a number that is commensurate with how many stomachs I have). Somehow, I couldn’t help it one morning two weeks ago in early November, when I visited a place that I have never been to, but which had a familiarity that brought out memories that were old and almost forgotten.
To the general public, this place is called 1868 Café, which serves coffee and very Instagram-able croiffles of various flavours. Its photogenic patio is superb for afternoon rendezvous, basking in the early autumn breeze and looking over Nam Van lakes.
The mix of emotions that I felt while sipping on my peanut-hazelnut latte on the patio, took my attention away from the beautiful surroundings I was in. I tried to distract myself from these emotions by walking around and playing with a very adorable two-year-old girl, whose dad, Nelson, had been my musical studies classmate. Also joining us was Kathy, who had classes with me under the same piano teacher some 30 years ago. We had just sat down to catch up a bit after having a reunion lunch with our other classmate Carol, together with our well respected teachers Ms. Tam and Ms. Leong, who trained us thoroughly on piano techniques and music theory and history.
Attached to the back of this café is the music academy where we all first met – Academia de Música S. Pio X. The building itself is The Ricci School on Rua da Praia do Bom Parto which is heritage listed under the Cultural Affairs Bureau. About four hours prior to my coffee session with Nelson and Kathy, I visited for the first time, this newly revamped building, which is where the academy is now located.
Everything is so new, modern and upgraded, but to me, so foreign. I was there to attend a talk given by Dr. Leong Hio Ming, whose parents were both teachers at S. Pio “during my time”. The topic was on musical studies development and potential for the younger generation, and I’m pretty sure I was the only alumni present without a child in toll. I was ten minutes late to the talk, and as I walked up into the Recital Hall and saw the grand piano behind Dr. Leong as he was speaking, tears just started running down my cheeks.
I still can’t comprehend exactly what it was that gushed over me. I think it was a combination of remembering the stage fright I used to get at each recital when I was a student; feeling so proud and happy that the Academy has a modern, revamped hall for the younger generations of students; and maybe I just missed the old days running around with my classmates before class at the old location in Rua Formosa – this new location is somewhat like the Academy I went to, at least in spirit, but is also very different. I don’t have any memories here and I can’t go back to the old classrooms and halls for visits because they simply don’t exist anymore.
And that is just something we all have to accept sometimes – I, have to accept, every day – that there are some things in life we cannot go back to.
Academia de Música S. Pio X was founded by Father Áureo Castro in 1962, and it was the first institution to provide systematic musical training to local youths. During his life, Father Castro achieved numerous milestones in musical development and wrote a series of musical pieces entitled Chinese Rhythms. The one that stuck with me most is named Nostalgia; the melody pays homage to the unsettled emotions he felt when leaving his home, Portugal, on a ship to return to China.
And something that Dr. Leong said in the talk made a lot of sense to me: it is hard to get young children to completely understand the music that they are playing because of their lack of life experiences. The music they play, at its best, is technique-based. Give them a few years or a decade, when different life events have touched their hearts, and then they will be able to truly speak with music.
I felt that. When I came home to practice on my piano after that day, I picked out Nostalgia again, and it felt different playing it after that day – and it feels different pretty much every time I play this piece. Timeless, indeed.
Live • Laugh• Love
Juliana Kung
Local Member of Chaîne des Rotisseurs Disciples Escoffier International Wine Society Macau
Instagram: delishhhcomfort
