One Friday evening I am sitting， as I almost always do， in a restaurant at the streetside. I like to sit outside at evenings (when I get home in time and it’s not pouring rain) to eat or work at the laptop， and to observe life around me during dinner or working breaks.
This evening my observations are interrupted by a call. SunLi asks me： “Would you like to attend to a classical concert？ The problem is that you have to queue for the tickets tomorrow morning， you cannot just buy them. LangLang will perform and play， no idea what.” I do not learn anything more， consent， however， and are informed： It’s her friend WuJiao who has had this idea， and SunLi has no desire to queue for the cards， nor does she feel like attending the concert.
The interesting architecture of the new concert hall building.
The children frankly marvel， the adults are more SZTV is interviewing me. relaxed， although they are also impressed.
So I am just a substitute， so that her friend will not have to wait alone， let alone go to a concert without company， I am supposed to be the escort. I’m still thrilled by the idea. I am addicted to classical music and interested in the new concert hall and in witnessing a concert in China. The next morning， I’m half an hour before WuJiao at the meeting point to get me fit into the already growing queue， two hours before opening of the box office， I go to the organizers’ table， ask for an explanation of the procedure， I get the number 169 and line up at the end of the queue which soon grows even longer behind me.
In Germany， I’ve never been queuing early in the morning to get pre-sale tickets for whatever concert. I have never before bought tickets for a classical concert (and I only attend to classical music or to jazz) without knowing what is on the agenda. And I have never visited a concert of LangLang in person， I don’t like LangLang. He boasts a big show at the piano， he is arrogant， but I want to hear music， without any show.
However， I’ll do it， I’m curious. The several hundred meters long queue makes three turns， the organizers have spent little plastic chairs， many people are sitting while waiting. Children run around and have fun. After an endless time the cash registers open， the children collect the chairs with delight and help the helpers； at some point it’s the turn of No. 169. After a brief telephone consultation， we buy three tickets， for SunLi now wants to come after all. I pay for all the tickets， insisting. I’m getting more and more curious about the concert.
While visiting the new concert hall (which displays a surprising architecture) along with hundreds of enthusiastic families and their children， I am tracked down by local ShenZhen TV， for I am apparently the only foreigner here. So if I was not allowed to perform in NanJing before millions of viewers of the local TV， then now at last in ShenZhen， in front of yet more millions， how exciting！
I am asked what I think of this new concert hall， by which I am very impressed， by design， acoustics， architecture ... as if I had any idea. I hope I have not been talking complete nonsense.
In the evening I’m as excited as anyone who appears for the first time in front of millions on television. Especially since it is in China. I am sitting at the telly， the tension rises， the show starts， and at once I get myriads of phone-calls – many of my friends and some of the staff seem to have watched the show at dinner， and now they discovered me！
A few days later， the concert is taking place. There is an elaborate pre-opening ceremony， the French architect of the building is assessed， the mayor is celebrated， cannons shoot something similar to confetti. Before the concert the audience talks， laughs or phone-calls loudly – then there is a message： Turn off all phones， no more talk！
The concert begins with “Les Préludes”， then LangLang enters (after a grand piano was rolled in) and plays Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1， it is very beautiful. After the break， my socks are knocked off by Rachmaninoff ’s famous Piano Concerto – highest standards of technical virtuosity， combined with moving most strikingly everyone who would listen even just a little bit.
But LangLang does not begin playing. He waits. He hears people talking， rustling， it bothers me， too. He turns to the audience and speaks very seriously with them. Now everyone is quiet. The concert begins， it is one of my favourite piano concertos. I am melting away.
Around me there are hundreds of listeners， the majority of which (unlike me who knows it almost by heart) probably is not familiar with the concert. Most of them are perhaps for the first time in a classical concert. LangLang has pointed out to them that
Shortly before the concert： The mother tells her son what will happen now.
LangLang playing.
one is supposed to listen， not to talk， eat chips or sunflower seeds， nor to phone around. They obeyed LangLang， and were carried away by him.
I am very impressed by everything， by the audience， the atmosphere of curiosity and open-mindedness， with all the children and families， and by LangLang who presents himself to me here in a totally different manner than I know him from television in Germany.
Later， in Germany， I have once again the opportunity to attend to him in a concert， together with an international youth orchestra， and once again he has really impressed me： It was very surprising to see how easily， naturally， casually he treated the young people who were only a few years younger than himself， but by orders of magnitude less famous， and as well us in the audience！ How easily all broke and started again at a moment that was not played to the satisfaction of the conductor. I’ve changed my mind about LangLang at least about 50%.