A CRAZY NIGHT
2010
We’re really tired after our trips and take a long time to get going. Because of the scattered strikes one is a little reluctant to take the Metro, so we decide on taking an exploratory walk to Rue Bonaparte, where Pierre Hermé’s pastry store is, and where we hope to be able to have a coffee with an exquisite pastry, and then decide what to do from there. It has gotten considerably colder, and we’re hunched against the wind as we walk along the Seine until we escape into rue Bonaparte - full of galleries and interesting stores. Pierre Hermé unfortunately does not serve coffee, and reluctant to keep walking in the cold, we return to the house, shopping for more food and wine as we go.
At home the pastries are every bit as good as we hoped!
At around 7pm we walk the short distance to the Sainte Chapelle, where we wait in the freezing dark street with many other tourists, including a group from Bahia, all a little anxious about whether we’re in the right place, have the right tickets, and so on. Doors open at 8.15pm and we enter to stand in another line just outside the chapel, until they finally let us in. The chapel is richly decorated, but the huge stained glass window is under restoration and covered. The musicians are still setting up, but soon 4 violinists, a cellist and a harpsichord player take their places and launch into the Pachelbel. They hit their stride with the languid Albinoni and then attack the Four Seasons with gusto. The director and soloist moves in a way I have never seen before in classical music. The music is obviously coursing through him and he can almost not stand still. It’s quite charming and gay and reminds me of fiddle players in Chagall paintings. We’re happy that we’ve finally experienced classical music in Paris - and in such exquisite surroundings - and also buy a cd from the soloist. Then we’re let outside into the almost arctic (for us) night. When we spot an Irish Pub on the riverside around the corner from St. Michel, we dive in with thoughts of a shot of Irish Whiskey to warm us up. It’s cozy and warm inside and in no time at all we’ve made friends with Pauline from Galway, who introduces us to the singer, Jan, a short guy with a big cloth cap, carrying a big guitar and complaining of a monumental hangover. The whiskey becomes two whiskies, and we talk to the “Irish’ girls behind the counter, one of which turns out to be from the US and the other, a red-haired beauty with the milky white skin, Polish. Then Jan begins to sing, and he is great. The whiskies are now gone and we share a pint of Guinness. Jan informs the audience that he’s really from Hamburg. Pauline says Irish neighbors taught him the English he knows, so that explains the thick brogue. Jan needs frequent breaks, both to drink foaming pints of Guinness, and also to bum cigarettes from Pauline, which they of course have to smoke outside, stomping their feet in the cold. A group of heavily made-up and skinny girls turn out to be from Belfast, when they sing along passionately to what appears to be an ode to that city. Oswaldo takes a blurry picture of a guy wearing a t-shirt: GOD IS BUSY. CAN I HELP YOU?
and wishes he could find one to take back to work. It’s very warm and enjoyable and little slips for our drinks neatly pile up in front of Oswaldo. Finally, realizing we need to eat something, we tear ourselves away - promising to return another day - and run to our studio, where a nice quiche awaits us, along with a chilled bottle of white wine - maybe not the wisest choice, but...
A LOT OF MUSIC
Sunday, October 17, 2010
ALMOST EVERY DAY I’VE PASSED BY THE LONG LINES OUTSIDE SAINTE CHAPELLE. TODAY I MANAGE TO GET TICKETS FOR TONIGHTS CONCERT OF VIVALDI’S FOUR SEASONS, ALBINONI’S ADAGIO, AND PACHELBEL’S SARABANDE PLAYED BY THE ORCHESTRE PARIS CLASSIK
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