Weeping in Paris

Last week I went to Paris for the first time.  The trip was about singing for an important conductor of my repertoire specifically regarding a production of Cosi fan tutte in London in a couple of seasons.  It was suuuuuuuch an awesome trip and I noticed my wallet growing thinner in direct proportion to my thickening stomach! :)  The food.  Holy canoli.  THE FOOD.  If for no other reason, go to Paris to eat.  But, of course, there are millions of reasons to go to Paris!  Notre Dame!  The Louvre!  Musee D'Orsay!  Just the general walking around in it!  Glorious.  And thrilling!  Mostly good thrills, but also crazy-go-nuts ones like driving our car all the way into downtown. WHAT WERE WE THINKING?!  It was fine, but it was also full of the most heinous traffic violations to which I have ever been witness.  I kept thinking about my tiny hometown of West Richland, WA and how two cars constitute "traffic".  Ah, simpler times.  It was seriously an amazingly romantic and incredible trip.  I wished over and over that I could go back in time and tell my disaffected teen-aged self that in a few years time I'd be in Paris celebrating my birthday with the most wonderful man I've ever met, completely in love and expecting our first darling baby.  I never knew how many fabulous things life had in store.  I always worried about bad stuff, but it didn't occur to me to realistically dream about the kind of stuff that happens now.  I mean, I always wished for the awesome to occur, but I didn't imagine it actually would!  It did.  I was in Pareeeeee!

A kind of hilarious/awkward thing happened one night we were there which I hesitate to share lest the participants find this blog and resent me for publishing, but on the other hand...so great :)  We went to a kinda schmanzy, spendy restaurant one night which was highly rated on Yelp.  I had to make a reservation and everything and apparently three days in advance our only opportunity to get one was if someone cancelled.  Luckily, someone did and we got to go.  We ended up arriving a few minutes late and were seated next to a couple of white-haired German gentlemen, who began engaging us in conversation.  They advised us what to order (There was this halibut starter with lightly steamed baby vegetables which was so perfect I can't even tell you! I think it was the most balanced dish I've ever had. Too legit to quit.) and made generally awkward jokes about my being obviously pregnant. At one point one of them said, "Is the baby yours?" to me.  Um, yes.  The baby is mine.  I realized later that he meant is the baby Rasmus', which is an awkward question to ask a near perfect stranger, but not suuuuuper surprising coming from a German (if I'm being perfectly honest).  We affirmed that it was in fact our first child.  And that we've been married nearly 6 years.  Rasmus mentioned that I am a singer and when they found out about my repertoire they began to beg me to sing Elsas Traum from Lohengrin. Look, I don't want to be a diva or anything, but it is entirely embarrassing, in the middle of a restaurant where people are eating and conversing, to force the majority to hear something they didn't ask for.  I just don't like being made to feel that I have to prove something.  I long for those days to be behind me.  I know opera doesn't have the mass enthusiasm of, say, pop music, but in my sphere, I consider myself sufficiently proven.  Anyway, I declined.  So they insisted.  I declined again, as politely as I could.  Until they were begging for "three words only!"  And so, I caved and sang the first five words of the aria:
"Einsam in trueben Tagen..."

When people stopped eating and listened, I sort of chickened out and stopped.  If I had known the reaction I would have kept going, but I am a coward and like I said, I don't feel like putting myself in a position where I have to be impressive to people who aren't asking.  Anyway, shocking reaction.  People kind of applauded awkwardly, but the really weird thing is one of the German guys started SOBBING.  Like, truly sobbing.  Tears streaming down his face he said:
"What we've just had was a perfect moment."

Which, of course, made me feel entirely guilty.  I apologized for making him cry or for not singing more or whatever it was and he was inconsolable.  Good thing by then we were nearly finished and could soon leave!  Poor guy.  I am grateful, obviously, that he appreciated it, and now I just have to hope he comes to hear me sing sometime for real and then I won't feel like I owe him the rest of an aria!  :)