Zambak

Patrick sent this story to me, along with several others, on 25 Dec 2013. This one tells the story of the Zambak, chronicled elsewhere indirectly.

Billy Bielmeyer and I were sailing in the Bay of Izmir in his tiny Pirate dinghy. The hills of Izmir rising up on all sides from the deep blue sea bristled with minarets. It was the hour when the muezzins called the faithful to prayer, but you could not hear them out where we fizzed along on the sea, the main and jib flaphappy in the stiff breeze coming off the land. The wind was hot on my cheeks, and I felt Continue reading “Zambak”

Lost at Sea and Supposed Dead

Here’s a photo of the Zambak, a newspaper clipping (incomplete) about the episode with a picture of Mari on the cover, and some e-mail exchanges explaining more of what happened.

There is a fuller story he sent me on 25 Dec 2013 that you might enjoy.

The Zambak

Patrick wrote the following back-story:

Here is the boat I bought for 500 dollars in Izmir.  The first day out, after getting her fixed up, a storm tore up the mainsail and blew us onto a sand reef.  The captain of the fishing boat who pulled us off lost a finger in the winch.  We (bandmaster Billy Bielmeir and I) spent the night in the bar of a safe harbor, while helicopters and rescue people searched after the storm cleared. The next day we tied up what was left of the mains’l and using that and the jib, we limped back to the yacht club in Izmir.  Meanwhile the newspaper AKSAM had reported us lost at sea and supposed dead.  The photo shows Mari receiving the news.  Continue reading “Lost at Sea and Supposed Dead”

Ringed by Fire and Smoke

Huge flames flicker along the ridges to the north and west of my house. In truth they are probably 10 miles away, but they are bright enough and broad enough, and the winds fierce enough, that I ponder my evacuation plan should the need arise.

I look closely at the distant fires, then climb into the truck in search of dinner with a friend from Alabama who is visiting here on business.

When I return, I decide it’s time to prepare, just in case…. not expecting to flee, but fearing the loss of those remaining bits of Patrick that I hold.

It takes about three hours, three hours to distill into a small collection the things I hold dear. It’s telling, these things I gathered up, Continue reading “Ringed by Fire and Smoke”

The Taxi

In memory and praise of Patrick’s refined sense of humour, I am sharing one of his numerous stories, worthy of the fabulous wise fool, Mulla Nasruddin, as told by himself at Carl & Antoinette’s place in Deià, last year. (N. d’A.)

The Taxi

Thursday evening, I was invited to supper in Deià and I drank so much wine I couldn’t drive home to Valldemossa so I took a taxi.

Next morning I couldn’t work out what the taxi was doing in my garage!

Concert review (English)

Published in Ultima Hora, 14 Sep 2017

PATRICK

by Emili Gené Vila

(English translation by Nicole.)

Concert review from Ultima Hora newspaper

I remember him playing the double bass or an organ, conducting a chamber orchestra he himself had created, conducting a choir, or directing the Music Festival, a miracle that remains very much alive, eager to recall the enthusiasm with which Patrick turned Deià into a musical world reference. There were moving speeches to remember Patrick Meadows (Susanne Bradbury, an old friend of those heroic and wonderful times, was unable to finish her reading). There were his son, his friends, the owners of Son Marroig, the conductor Misha Rachelevsky — and Stephanie Shepard, present as always. It was an extraordinary concert, outside the original program of the Festival, that served to bid farewell to Patrick with the sadness of the loss (Schnauber’s piece and the elegy in the encore), but also with the elusive joy of music. The Kremlin Chamber Orchestra interpreted some of Patrick’s favourite pieces. In the first half we heard a transfigured Night that lifted the spirit of everyone present. Memorable, as was Tchaikovsky’s Serenade: two pieces that lead the orchestra to its full expression — a young orchestra that sounded as though it was composed only of masters. The concert was excellent in every way: precision, style, pure rhythm and vitality, as well as dynamic, subtle and conclusive in Piazzola’s Libertango — the conductor’s last present to us in the second encore. Vigour and enthusiasm: I can’t think of a better setting to pay tribute to that restless pioneer we all owe so much to.