What are they doing on the other side of the world tonight?

I was channel-surfing last night to find something to fill that 8-9 PM slot before Desperate Housewives and came on this concert on PBS. It was a little different, as the conductor wielded a violin instead of a baton, and the women musicians were dressed in what I thought were ballgowns, that later turned out to be native dress. Oh, and the music stands had curlicues on them. Very weird. I liked the music in the beginning, classical and well-rendered. But I just knew this long-haired guy in the funny waistcoat was Lawrence Welk reincarnated. And he was in a way. At the pledge break, I found out he was Andre Rieu, the Flying Dutchman, and the concert was being held on the soccor field in Limburg, wherever the hell that is. Andre spoke between the musical interludes, and it was not English, but didn't sound like German, either. I sort of discerned that it was Dutch, from his name. No dummy here. Well, everyone seemed to be having a hell of a good time at this concert. When they played Vienna, City of My Dreams, a thrilling waltz, people swayed back and forth in their seats, the ones that did not get up and dance. The orchestra swayed, too. In fact, the orchestra had a whole lot of fun up there. And the snob in me said, "this is not what concerts are all about." But the kid in me said, "this is what concerts should be like." And wouldn't you know it, Desperate Housewives didn't come on till 10. After an hour of potboilers like the march from Aida, even with gorgeous horses prancing around the field, I was bored with Andre and had to flip over to CSI for my William Petersen fix. But I did flip back during commercial breaks and found that Andre has been all over the world doing his schtick, and has earned enough to live in a nifty chateau. Where have I been?