"Everything was beautiful at the ballet.Graceful men lift lovely girls in white.
Yes, everything was beautiful at ballet."
- A Chorus Line
Tuesday I enjoyed an elegant evening out with my girlfriends. We all got dressed up, put on some heals, and met up at a restaurant called Chartier in the 9th arrondissement. When we were done we took the metro two stops and emerged in front of Le Palais Garnier. Three acts later we headed home, tired but happy.
The restaurant was one I selected from the book Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris that my parents got for me before I left (thanks parents) and that I've been perusing for food ideas. Clotilde made Chartier look good. Too good, in fact, because it didn't meet my expectations. Although the decor was very lovely--simple, bright, and classy--the food didn't elicit the same "oh-my-god!-I-LOOVVEEE-French-food" response I was hoping it would. 
The escargots (6 for 6.50 euro) were actually very good. They did not make my eyes roll in back of my head, nor did they make me mmmmm involuntarily, but they were indeed very good. The garlicy-oil was also an excellent addition to the complimentary fresh bread. For dinner I had a chicken dish. The portion was satisfyingly large but sadly not worth it. It was just one sad, monotone plate of brown chicken, brown sauce, and brown french fries. It wasn't bad; it was perfectly fine chicken. The sauce was good, the french fries were good (after having asked for ketchup, for which I hung my head in shame... but they're french fries so I had to have ketchup!), and the chicken was even good... but not great.
The ballet, on the other hand, was great. Excellent, even. We saw La Dame Aux Camélias. I'd say that the ballet was far more satisfying than the meal that proceeded it because the performance was well balanced and well prepared. If I had known the plot--like my friend who'd read the book, written by Alexandre Dumas, in high school--I probably would have understood the ballet better. All I got from the actual dancing was a vague love story that involved equal parts joy and suffering...suffering being the emotion that prevailed at the end. There were certainly scenes that I understood while watching and comedic parts at which I laughed. Then again, there were many scenes that I did not understand. I found, though, that despite being a bit lost in the story I never under-appreciated the performance.
Having listened to and even played a lot of classical music over the past 12 years I've developed an appreciation for it. I believe that an orchestra is more than the sum of its parts. Every instrument has a unique sound. Every instrument is capable of being extraordinary on its own. But together in an orchestra the sounds and tones knot together to form something stronger, like two chemicals reacting to create an entirely new substance. Last night I heard an extraordinary orchestra play Chopin's extraordinary score. It was a little like Fantasia, only with Mickey wearing a tailcoat and tights.
The music alone would have been enough. It has been on several occasions--we call them concerts. But just like the instruments combining to create something new, the orchestra and the dancers complimented each other in a way that produced pure greatness. The dancers quick feet shuffled with quick arpeggios and tremolos. Their bodies folded in sorrow with the sound of cellos in mourning. The music and the dance formed a perfect couple.
I feel as though I'm focusing more on the music, but that's simply because that's what I'm used to. I've had experience with music. Never with ballet. One of my friends who went with me was a dancer for a long time. She said she'd seen countless ballets over the years and that the couples dancing in this one was the best she'd ever witnessed. I agreed wholeheartedly, but I didn't really have a whole lot to go on. Still, it doesn't take experience to appreciate what these dancers do. Their bodies, made of pure, elongated muscle, are capable of so much that a normal body could never manage. I watched half of the ballet with raised eyebrows wondering, "how did they do that," and when I wasn't analysing every move I was just lost in the movements of the watery fabric that draped across the dancers, the perfect forms that they created from finger to over-polished shoe tip. It was indescribably wonderful to behold. Hopefully I'll be able to go again and not be disappointed.
The restaurant was one I selected from the book Clotilde's Edible Adventures in Paris that my parents got for me before I left (thanks parents) and that I've been perusing for food ideas. Clotilde made Chartier look good. Too good, in fact, because it didn't meet my expectations. Although the decor was very lovely--simple, bright, and classy--the food didn't elicit the same "oh-my-god!-I-LOOVVEEE-French-food" response I was hoping it would. The escargots (6 for 6.50 euro) were actually very good. They did not make my eyes roll in back of my head, nor did they make me mmmmm involuntarily, but they were indeed very good. The garlicy-oil was also an excellent addition to the complimentary fresh bread. For dinner I had a chicken dish. The portion was satisfyingly large but sadly not worth it. It was just one sad, monotone plate of brown chicken, brown sauce, and brown french fries. It wasn't bad; it was perfectly fine chicken. The sauce was good, the french fries were good (after having asked for ketchup, for which I hung my head in shame... but they're french fries so I had to have ketchup!), and the chicken was even good... but not great.Having listened to and even played a lot of classical music over the past 12 years I've developed an appreciation for it. I believe that an orchestra is more than the sum of its parts. Every instrument has a unique sound. Every instrument is capable of being extraordinary on its own. But together in an orchestra the sounds and tones knot together to form something stronger, like two chemicals reacting to create an entirely new substance. Last night I heard an extraordinary orchestra play Chopin's extraordinary score. It was a little like Fantasia, only with Mickey wearing a tailcoat and tights.
The music alone would have been enough. It has been on several occasions--we call them concerts. But just like the instruments combining to create something new, the orchestra and the dancers complimented each other in a way that produced pure greatness. The dancers quick feet shuffled with quick arpeggios and tremolos. Their bodies folded in sorrow with the sound of cellos in mourning. The music and the dance formed a perfect couple.
I feel as though I'm focusing more on the music, but that's simply because that's what I'm used to. I've had experience with music. Never with ballet. One of my friends who went with me was a dancer for a long time. She said she'd seen countless ballets over the years and that the couples dancing in this one was the best she'd ever witnessed. I agreed wholeheartedly, but I didn't really have a whole lot to go on. Still, it doesn't take experience to appreciate what these dancers do. Their bodies, made of pure, elongated muscle, are capable of so much that a normal body could never manage. I watched half of the ballet with raised eyebrows wondering, "how did they do that," and when I wasn't analysing every move I was just lost in the movements of the watery fabric that draped across the dancers, the perfect forms that they created from finger to over-polished shoe tip. It was indescribably wonderful to behold. Hopefully I'll be able to go again and not be disappointed.