Paris - city of lights, city of love.
It feels so strange to wander around the French capital, overflowing with people. There is no down season in Paris. It is the most visited city in the world sometimes containing the equivalent of its population in visitor terms. The activity seems to follow the arrondissement structure during the day - business district, shopping district, student district, nightlight district - parks, etc...Life unrolls like a big giant snail. It also has the highest concentration of monuments in the world, ranging from Roman times to the latest architecture challenges. The Louvres in the largest museum in the world - although its displays are poorly lit, its labyrinthal set up makes it clumsy for tourists pressed by time, and the fact that it is hosted by an ex-royal palace makes it impossible for any disabled person. Truth must be said: Paris protects and highlights its art and treasures well. Everything that needs restoring is restored, well lit, well presented, affordable and available.
Montmartre feels like a little village, the business district like a North American city. A city of constrasts happily married for the better or for the worse. And the worse it has lived through. The city was full of posters displaying the famous "Appel du 18 Juin" that The General De Gaulle issued to all French people from his retreat post in Great Britain after the French defeat of 1939.
"France has lost a battle but France has not lost the war. French of all origin, we must unite, from wherever you are..." Vive La France.

It feels so strange to realize that there is a world out there, that is, outside of school, as the hard sole of your shoe beats up the wet asphalt of the Marais or the Latin Quarter.
Closed faces in the underground, joyful face of this local baker who greets an old lady, busy faces of the tourist rushing to catch a train, serious faces of the student reading in a trendy youngster cafe. All these people are so real. Yet, this world is so remote from where I live.

Trying to find out what would be the most Parisian thing to do, and glancing over the minuscule TimeOut in English section of the Pariscope, we select the Moulin Rouge revue and book ourselves some tickets for tonight's performance.
Arriving at Pigalle is already quite a bit of a surprise. Sex shops offering 2 DVDs for the price of one with evident displays overflowing in the street. Peek shop, 2 Euros for 3 minutes with extremely suggestive pictures competing for passers-by attention. Nightclubs pouring their loud music into the night, neon signs, long lines of taxis for long lines of people ushering towards their mysterious night destination.

Then a red windmill and a night of elegantly dressed people. Spain, America, England, Guatemala, Mexico, China, Korea, France...a lot of countries were represented in this tortuous line leading to the world's oldest French Cancan club.
The revue is very "deshabille" - most ladies wear little more than a few pearls and "paillettes", with a string bikini to remain decent. Most men are the GI Joe type, although extremely flexible...
The show presented no surprise. It is music hall at its best. Ventriloque, acrobats, jugglers AND the Moulin Rouge lady. Typical Can Can scene to conclude, fantastic costumes, a well oiled machinery to pull it off (I have calculated an average time of 20 seconds to change costumes and 30 seconds to change decor and to transition between acts) for a high pace high quality show of 45 minutes.

Bottle of champagne.

Highly priced. Demand is not falling, even when the prices are up. All shows were close to booked up all week. Last show starts at 11pm and that was the only one with a few seats left. They don't even bother with reservations. You give your name but no one checks. People must be turned down at the entrance.

My American friend after that, as we drove through the Bois de Boulogne to head back thought that every female person we met was a prostitute and started to explicity invite them through some frantic hand waving, forcing us to plunge down under the seat.

Not really the kind of show that I would have gone to, as it does not quite correspond to
- my taste in art
- my values

Faithful image of the frivolous side of Paris, eminent illustration of the marketing 101 principle that sex sells, the Moulin Rouge, since 1889, stands at the center of a typical Paris nightlife.