The Dr. Luis Sigall International Music Competition in Viña del Mar, Chile, is the only Latin American competition that is a member of the World Federation of International Music Competitions (WFIMC Link). In 2007 I won that competition. Flora and her grandson were at the winners' reception/dinner after the final round. Before I knew it, I had signed a contract to come play in their festival the following February.

The contract was for two performances: a solo recital and a concerto with the Symphony Orchestra of Chile. They told me I could play anything I wanted. I had been working on Brahms’ second concerto. Most conductors probably would not be comfortable doing a heavy work like that with a 23 year-old, and I had no idea when I’d get my next chance to play it. It was an experience I won't forget.

The concert piano was excellent; it was a beautiful Hamburg Steinway. The concerto came first, and then the orchestra performed a Mahler symphony after the intermission. Everything was going great until the power grid went down and the whole town went black.

Fortunately it didn’t happen until the end of the Mahler symphony during the applause. Everyone went outside to see what was happening and the town fire trucks were parked outside the hall. I'm not sure exactly what was going on, but it sure was exciting. At least it woke the audience up after a mammoth program like Brahms and Mahler. After all that drama, several lively parties got underway in the candlelight. We drank Pisco and searched for Flora's dog Anton, who had gone missing in all the confusion.

My recital was two days later in Teatro del Lago, an unfinished concert hall that had been under construction for 5 years. They run out of money but each year the building gets a little bigger. The piano was still in the symphony auditorium and had to be moved four or five blocks to the concert hall.

The day they moved it my jaw dropped in disbelief as I watched ten men hoist the Steinway onto a rickety wooden platform with wheels. They rolled it out the door and kept on going right down the bumpy road along the beach all the way to the concert hall. I followed close behind wondering what would become of the poor piano. The platform was hitting terrible potholes in the road and the men shouted at each other in Spanish.

With earnest concern, I asked Flora's grandson, "Is this really ok? I mean, you just got done telling me how proud of this piano you are, how you treasure it, how you saved up the money to buy it... And you move it by rolling it down the middle of the street on a wooden platform?!" He winked, smiled, and said, "Oh yeah, of course. There's no problem. This is what we always do and it always turns out fine." . . . I could only smile back and shrug incredulously, but he turned out to be right. Sure enough, the piano arrived safely and I spent the next day trying to keep my mind focused on music instead of people swimming, tanning, and playing ball on the beach.