From Kabul to the sounds of Amsterdam

The April sun shone gently over the city. Without any specific expectations, I walked to the concert hall in Amsterdam. Before saying goodbye at my office, my colleague Manal, a Syrian woman, said, “It looks like you have a date tonight!” I don't know what she read in my face; maybe excitement, maybe curiosity. I replied, “Not a date like you think! But I have a date, a shared trip at the Concertgebouw, with Laura! A woman who, like April, is tall, warm and cordial. A woman whose thoughts and finesse blossom like the blossoms of April.”

Grandeur

In front of the concert hall, I walked back and forth, waiting for her. Stylishly dressed men and women, apparently well-to-do and white, entered the building in groups. Amsterdam is like a bride among cities: elegant and impressive, with fancy clothes and exquisite jewellery highlighting her beauty and grandeur.

Laura arrived, on a bicycle. Her curly, golden hair shone in the sun. Long and with a smile, like a light breeze that breezes lightly, quickly and cheerfully through the alleys on a bicycle. Just as she meticulously corrects my sometimes clumsily written articles, tonight in the concert hall she calls my soul to deep rest and historical caress. My restless soul; from Kabul to Amsterdam, from yesterday's mosque to tonight's music. She gets off her bike and hugs me. I am small, she is tall. It was my first time here and I was a bit nervous. In her embrace, I whispered softly, “Calm down, it will be fine.”

The world of the elite

We walk to the hall. The atmosphere is bustling but full of joy. We bring our coats to the cloakroom and climb the spiral staircase of the beautifully designed building. Laura says with a smile, “Look, Saadat! White, rich people walking through the corridors with glasses of champagne.” She invites me to have a glass together and experience what it feels like to be part of the world of the elite.

The concert begins. The soft sounds of western music fill the large, majestic hall. To my left is Laura, around us mostly older people, less young. For a moment, I feel I am at the heart of history; a rich, golden history, adorned with music, painting and beautiful architecture. Every time the orchestra finishes a piece, the audience applauds for minutes, stands up to cheer, and the prolonged applause and special tribute fill the room with an intense sense of joy and liberation, as if there is a shared soul living in the world of music and art; a wordless liberation, only with sound.

This time, the Concertgebouw Orchestra, under the direction of Klaus Mäkelä, takes us on a journey through classical music; from the fairy tales of Maurice Ravel to the contemporary pieces of Guillaume Connesson and the powerful music of Béla Bartók, which enchants the audience with its western folk motifs. The solos of flute and oboe, with their bright sounds, enrich the pieces and every note is a magical mix of history, culture and art, always answered with the enthusiasm of the audience.

Layered painting or love poem

Western classical music, with its complex orchestration, multi-layered structure and use of rich harmonic and melodic techniques, takes the listener on an emotional and intellectual journey; the melodies often tell a story and combine rationality with feeling. In contrast, traditional Iranian and Afghan music is based on monophony and uses Modi and maqams are traditional music systems from Iran and Afghanistan, each with its own character and mood that convey different emotions and moods such as sadness, joy or mysticism. These structures form the basis for improvisation and composition and play an important role in expressing culture and spirituality in the region, to convey emotions. This music is often improvisational and makes a direct, unfiltered connection with the listener's heart and soul.

If Western classical music is a layered painting of history and culture, traditional Eastern music is like a love poem told straight from the heart; one with complex, logical structures, the other with simplicity and sincerity, but both seeking beauty, meaning and feeling, each in their own way.

During the break, we drink red wine and stroll through the high, opulent corridors. Laura asks about my recent articles, I about the publication of her new book. She is a novelist and journalist, and editor-in-chief of 360 magazine; someone who has held my hand in this unknown land to find my way.

Village boy

The second part of the concert begins. An older woman in the front row greets Laura. She hands me the programme leaflet: “This is the next music, a flute.” The atmosphere becomes warm again. I think about how round the world is; people are hurled from one point to another. I, a village boy from the border with China, once busy herding cattle and trekking around in the mountains, now sit in the best concert hall in the heart of the West, full of the beauty of art. My gaze rests on Laura, on her smile, like an innocent, fresh wind. She asks, “How does the atmosphere feel to you? “What do you think?” What should I say? I cannot say that I want to stay forever in her smile; in her voice, in her curly, golden hair, which to me is the epitome of a dignified and lovable human being.

The concert ends. We leave the hall, lightheaded and filled with a good feeling. Laura hugs me again, jumps on her bike like a free bird and disappears into the winding streets of Amsterdam. I take a deep breath; it feels like stepping out of history. Cautiously, I walk towards the tram. Still I am lost in thought in that enchanting evening, recorded in the calendar of my life as a special, golden night.

As I sit on the train to Almere, I close my eyes and muse. Each encounter with new places, sounds and people blows over the mind like a gentle wind, taking your identity on an endless journey of transformation and growth. Every experience, from a great concert to an encounter with a special friend, builds and enriches our inner world brick by brick; an identity that is not fixed or static, but constantly taking shape and changing. This is the reality of the human being; a summary of encounters with places, people and differences.

This article was previously published on JOOP.co.uk.