Today a coworker mentioned that a friend of her son is going to Paris for spring break.
Ahh Paris… I’m so jealous. I’d do anything to go back there. It has already been almost three years since our little jaunt to London, Paris, and Rome. I was beside myself with excitement the entire trip. I had always wanted to go to Europe, specifically Paris. I just can’t believe it took so long for me to actually make it there. And it still feels like yesterday when we were strolling down the Champs Elysees with me in utter disbelief that I was actually strolling down the Champs Elysees.
One of my favorite nights there, and probably of all time really, is the night we went to Moulin Rouge. We were traveling with a large group who were for the most part annoying. The “Louis Vuitton” attention whores, snarl, that weird blond lady whom we were all taking bets about how soon she would be pick-pocketed. Our guide was amazing though. She made the reservations (since we undoubtedly would have embarrassed ourselves with our Franglais, thus contributing to the ‘ignorant American’ stereotype) and led us on the correct subway lines.
Taking the Paris Metro was another experience I savored every second of. It sounds stupid to say that, I mean it’s a subway for francs sake, but I did. The classic white subway tiles lining the arched ceilings, the blue station signs announcing where exactly we were (Gare de Lyon, Louve, etc), and the ‘underground’ street musicians filling bustling corridors with echoing sounds as the crowds hurried by – it’s everything I expected the Paris Metro to be; not terribly different than most other subway systems I’ve used, but distinctly Parisian in ambiance.
We awkwardly ordered a carnet (package of 10 tickets) from the attendant, who incidentally was flirting with me. That’s a first, but I was amused. Or maybe he was making fun of us for being Americans…who knows. My French is quite bad, and C’s is … well nonexistent.
We made our way through the maze of people, across multiple subway lines, finally arriving at our stop. Our guide led our group to the theater and we went inside only to be corralled into a massive sea of people waiting to be checked for cameras or video recorders, and ultimately to be shown their seats in the theater. Red velvet surrounded everything – the rails, the stairs, the walls.
An attendant noticed my bag and asked me in broken English if I had a camera in the bag; I replied that we didn’t have our camera and understood that we would have to check our camera if we did have one. Some of the others in our group did have to check theirs, so we were very relieved that we didn’t bring one. Regretfully we didn’t get pictures of the area surrounding the theater because we didn’t go back later, but it’s still better than to risk losing our (very expensive) camera.
We were eventually shown our table. I looked around in awe of how beautiful the theater was, with its plush red and gold decor, vintage theater posters, and chandeliers glistening. The striped drapes hanging from the ceiling reminded me of a circus tent. We sat under the lights of the big top waiting for the music to begin…
The show itself was basically what I expected – gaudy cabaret (think: can cans) dancers singing in French so I understood approximately 1% of the dialogue. Some of the show was physical comedy. I vaguely recall a small dog on stage… I don’t recall specifically everything about the show since we had a lot of champagne, but I do know that it was a spectacular evening.
Can I go back?
