Posted by Early on the morning of June 15th, 2018 m’lady and I arrived in one of the world’s great cities, Paris, on our way home from our first Instruments For Africa trip to Ghana. We had turned our three-hour layover into a three-night stopover and we had a complete blast.
We were booked into the Montmartre District, which was great and close to tons of attractions. We arrived early, stored our bags and did a walkabout, which included a pair of very pricey Starbucks coffees and a lovely little cafe stop. When we finally checked in m’lady told me to plan something for our evening and then she went down for a nap.
Turned out I did a pretty great job.
Once she got up and about we hit the bricks, winding our way up to the Sacré-Cœur Basilica where we sipped a couple of beers purchased from a renegade street vendor and gazed romantically over the city below. Then it was off to the Maison Rose, a tiny nearby eatery housed in the former residence of painter Maurice Utrillo. We scored one of the two tables outside and ordered almost everything off of their apps menu. Marinated olives, ricotta served with delicious bread, cheese served with pickled apples, grapes, onions, and the best pesto ever (says the guy who doesn’t really like pesto). The food was really quite unbelievable, as was the location. In addition to being a house of some history, it’s astoundingly quaint. So quaint, in fact, that there was a constant stream of tourists setting up tripods and such on the opposite corner to take pictures of the restaurant, and of course us as we slowly lounged over our dinner.
It felt like we were famous. I remember wondering if that was how Anthony Bourdain (who had died just a week before) felt whenever he went somewhere to eat. Overall it was probably one of the greatest restaurant experiences of my life.
But the best part of the day (and technically the focus of this ticket story) was what we did next.
Just a few metres from the Maison Rose was the Lapin Agile, the oldest cabaret in the world. We’re talking about the first venue on the planet that charged money for people to come and drink while entertainment was presented (as opposed to the much more famous Moulin Rouge, which professes the identical claim, though it didn’t open until 1889, almost a full thirty years after the Lapin Agile got started. Additionally, I had noted that the admission price for the Moulin Rouge was an astounding 175 euro per person, compared to the twenty euro cover charge at the Cabaret Au Lapin Agile). So it was right up my alley.
Lapin Agile is housed in a small building which is really just an entryway with a bathroom that leads up a few stairs to a dark living room lined with benches and littered with a handful of old tables and chairs. The walls were lined with copies of paintings by local artists. Matter of fact, in 1905 Picasso painted a self-portrait of himself sitting at one of those tables and gave the work to the owner, who hung it on the wall for several years before selling it for about $20. In 1989 Au Lapin Agile sold at auction for $40.7 million and it now hangs on the wall at MOMA in New York City. There is currently a copy of the masterpiece hanging in Lapin Agile in exactly the same spot where the original once hung.
We walked in (without paying the cover – patrons pay when they leave; a first for me) and found the room quite full, with perhaps forty people in the place. We found a couple of chairs and sat down. The waiter immediately brought us each a shot of local liqueur, complimentary with entry and the staple tipple of the Lapin Agile.
Against one wall sat on old upright piano, leaning next to it was a beat-up nylon-string guitar. These were the tools that were alternatively used by the half-dozen singers that were mostly sitting at tables amongst the clientele. Occasionally one or two of the singers would get animated and spring from their seats, acting out the lyrics of the classic French folksong repertoire and engaging the audience members to sing, dance, and get involved any way they wanted.
There was virtually no separation between audience and performer, indeed, a few times people I thought were performers were actually just patrons joining in the fun, just as I occasionally mistook one of the performers (who had been sitting out a few numbers) for a customer. Really, it was as close to the great Canadian Kitchen Party as one could get, and it was remarkably fun.
Who cares that I didn’t understand a word that was sung? Luckily m’lady translated the more salacious lyrics for me. I did, however, recognize a few melodies. There was Autumn Leaves, albeit with different lyrics, Those Were The Days (sung as Le Temps des Fleurs as made famous in France by Dalida, whose bust cast in bronze stood just around the corner), and one I could actually sing along with, Alouette. Tired as I was after a crazy last couple of days in Ghana and an overnight flight to Paris I had been worried about staying awake, but man, did I ever!
The crowd waned to twenty people, and then ten, and still the show went on. Finally there was just four of us left. The performers encouraged us to sit together and then they surrounded our table and kept singing to us for at least another half-hour. Amazingly, the best song of the night came when the Lebanese lady sitting next to us sang a piece just before closing time. It was breathtakingly beautiful; she was obviously a trained opera singer.
We closed the place at 12:30. On our way out one of the singers asked us how many drinks we had and then charged us for them plus the cover. All at once, on the way out, and on the honour system.
Walking back to our hotel we strolled past the Maison Rose and down the cobbled hill. My gosh, it was all so beautiful.
Without hyperbole, I think I can honestly say that altogether it was one of the greatest evenings of my life. Like I say, I did a pretty great job of planning it.
Todd Man Out 