Saturday, May 12, 2001
The weather is hot.
By May Paris standards at least. Supposed to be 21 or 24 degrees Celsius
today [70-75 degrees Fahrenheit].
The first thing we did was métro back to Saint-Francois-Xavier since we overslept and missed SDA church. It’s beautiful inside. When we got there men were singing accompanied by organ. We ogled at how pretty it was and sat a bit.
Then the bells
began to peal, and peal, and peal. I didn’t think the tintinnabulation would
ever stop. Not that I wanted it to, I just couldn’t believe how long it lasted.
We took pictures of the Invalides dome down a long, grassy median.
[Invalides
dome. Louis the 14th, of Versailles fame, staged many wars in Europe. In
1670, he decided to build a military hospital to care for wounded soldiers.
With their large church topped by a golden dome and 13 hectares building,
the Invalides are a masterpiece of French classical architecture.
The Napoléon's ashes rest under the Invalides's dome.]
Then we walked forever toward the Champs du Mars to pick up the #42 bus. Had to ride the #42 bus you know!
From the Opéra took the #81 to the Sarah Bernhardt Café at place Châtelet for lunch.
It was there that I saw a Sarah Bernhardt Exposition poster for the Bibliotheque
Nationale France (www.bnf.fr). It ended January 14, 2001.
*sob*
*sob*
*sob*
*sob*
*sob*
*sob*
*sob*
*sob*
*BITTER*sob*
Métroed back
to Montmartre to get photos of the second mill that we missed previously.
And the Agile Lapin. And the last vineyard. Riding the
Montmartre bus is not much different than riding a roller coaster. Sometimes
I channeled Larry the Cucumber (“I’m going to die!”), and sometimes I channeled
LuAnn Venden Herrell (“We’re all going to die!”).
Métroed to the Bourse to pay the Bibliotheque Nationale a visit. Of course all their Bernhardt exposition placards were gone.
Rode the #29 platform bus around a bit, standing on the outdoor platform.
Next year these old buses will be gone for good. Grabbed a chevre and crudité
sandwich, then waited for the #29 to take us back in the direction of the
Opéra Garnier. And waited and waited. By the time I’d already planned to
be in the Palais Garnier gawking at all the things only ticket holders get
to gawk at, we were still waiting. We started walking to a métro, overshot
it, and then the #29 picked us up. The curtain bell was
ringing as we scampered up the stairs at the Garnier. Little did we know
they ring the bell for five minutes.
Nikki and Kilory would have liked the first ballet piece, “Prism”. The rest
of the pieces, “Night,” “Chaconne for Piano and Two Dancers,” and “The Sandpaper
Ballet,” Kilory would have loved, but Nikki would have rolled her eyes and
said “That’s not dancing!” [Shades of You Can’t Take It With You’s
Essie there. I wonder where she gets it?]
“Night” was just about the coolest thing I’ve ever seen
on stage. It was about 30 minutes long and I could watch it over and over.
It held a surprise, too: Evan T is leading a double life: who knew he was
a dancer touring with the San Francisco Ballet? There he was! Of course,
I could be wrong.
The théâtre itself is overly ornate with gilt, bare breasts, and trumpets everywhere. The ceiling didn’t jive with the rest of it. The colorful ceiling mural is by Marc Chagall. It didn’t jive at all, but I was mesmerized by it nonetheless. You could have driven Mack trucks into my gaping mouth as I stared at the ceiling.
Let me preface: Weird CAN be GOOD.
The program was weird.
1. “Prism” (with lead ballerinas ‘Helen Gamble’ and ‘Lindsay Dole’);
2. Intermission;
3. “Night” (totally awesome and featuring 'the Incredible Evan');
4. “Chaconne for Piano and Two Dancers” (if anyone had told me at SAC that in 2001 I’d be the SWAU Web Content Author and would be sitting in the Paris Opéra wondering whatever happened to Timo Chacon...);
5. Intermission;
6. The orchestra played Leroy Anderson's “Sleigh Ride” (“Giddyup giddyup giddyup let’s go!” right there in the middle of Paris);
7. “The Sandpaper Ballet” (costumes by Isaac Mizrahi, various music including what I call "the typewriter symphony” and “the clock concerto”...I’m gonna be on the phone humming at least 3 tunes to Carol and Darren and asking for identification. Carol and Darren will be asking me to get professional help...soon.) [Thanks, Carol, for Saint-Sulpice’s "Toccata from Symphony No. 5" by Widor; and "The Syncopated Clock" and "The Typewriter", both by Leroy Anderson.]
Two intermissions and “Sleigh Ride.”
It was weird.
See preface.
Nobody drew in my journal on the way home.
Nobody answered when we called home.
Nobody told me I had streaks of white paint on the back of my black silk dress at the most elegant Opéra house in the world. I wore my hair upswept so I can’t even delude myself that cascades of chestnut curls concealed THICK STREAKS OF THICK WHITE PAINT ON THE BACK OF MY BLACK SILK DRESS! My back looked like an interstate!
Yes. I sat on a park bench.
No. There was no “wet paint” sign on the bench and the bench was Leisl-Findley-Hunter-Green anyway. If I can’t get white paint out of my black silk Hugo Buscotti I’m gonna be miffed. [An instant three-day pre-soak in baby shampoo wrapped in a plastic bag did wonders.]
Was also distressed to discover author Douglas Adams died yesterday. It makes today’s ride on the #42 bittersweet.
Friday, April 27 | Sabbath, April 28 | Sunday, April 29 | Monday, April 30 | Tuesday, May 1 | Wednesday, May 2 | Thursday, May 3 | Friday, May 4 | Saturday, May 5 | Sunday, May 6 | Monday, May 7 | Tuesday, May 8 | Wednesday, May 9 | Thursday, May 10 | Friday, May 11| Saturday, May 12 | Sunday, May 13 | Monday, May 14 | Epilogue