Sandy Supposes....

my homage to 'Hotel California' in Paris, the dazzling city

PROMPT: Day 26 and still backpacking through Europe... Today is vendredi, explore Montmartre, star in a horror film?... amuse myself this evening...!

          Bienvenue vendredi/Friday! I can't believe I am still in Paris.. sigh. Of course, I have more walking and strolling to do, up hill this time, so, technically, climbing, mountain climbing. Ah, Montmartre is a mountain, now known as Mountain of the Martyrs, but once referred to as Mount of Mars. Hmm, the landscape doesn't appear to be uninhabitable. What, another red light district? I do not linger here to gawk, perhaps I'm now jaded. In answer to your question Lyn's a Witchy Woman , I never forget my first, and Hamburg was my firstest, my premier red-light district. It tickled my fancy and caused me to blush, BUT Amsterdam had kickin' 80's music at the Cafe Bubbels, so, which is my favourite? Can they both be my favourite?          

Anyway, I climbed cobblestone streets with a teeming crowd. Montmartre is an artsy area with beaucoup de cafes, shops, night clubs, etc. Locals seem to strut about in heels and they never seem to perspire. What's their secret? The magnificent views were well worth the effort to reach Sacre Coeur Basilica. Huh, there are no real traces of the former gypsum mine. What a wonderful place to just relax on a terrace at a cafe, and people-watch! Damn, I forgot to wear my raspberry beret.

         So,Lyn's a Witchy Woman has voluntold us for a horror film?? Hmmm, je pense.... This is my homage to The Eagle's song 'Hotel California'....

          It, as in my nightmare, begins with me carefully carrying a humongous gateau/cake for Lyn's a Witchy Woman into a grand ballroom. The fraises/strawberries look so tempting, and the sixty sizzling sparklers atop the cake are threatening to awake the smoke detector. We all sing 'Bonne Fete' to our birthday gal, and then we break out the congratulatory drinks. We wanted to toast so, there were "mirrors on the ceiling and pink champagne on ice." That's all that I remember clearly. Things got more than a little fuzzy, and not the warm and fuzzy stuff. Faces flashed and faded in those huge golden mirrors.

         I hear voices in the hallways. Wait, no, it is the corridors, and they are hissing in a haughty French accent, "We are the corridors." Oh,so, I heard voices down the corridors. I mumble, "Excusez-moi."They were garbled, I think. Then we were dancing? "How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget." Yeah, so, we were dancing.. The white wigs atop our tetes/ heads were weaving and bopping. The crystal chandeliers snagged them. Our faces were disguised with white powder, and it arced through the air. I struggled to breathe; the cutting corset was stabbing me with its steely claws. I could hear strains of that classic song, 'Hotel California'. Welcome to the Four Seasons Hotel George V...Who was singing?

          Sally and I were scrabbling up a slippery spiral staircase while silent skeletons tried to drag us back into the catacombs, or was it 'corridors'? SB Musing or someone with her dance moves and voice appeared to be a floating painting of Van Gogh's 'Starry Night'. Sometimes. her face seemed to divide and shift...ooh, Picasso-like. NaNoKit was being chased by a bright yellow bicyclette tinkling its horn, over and over. Fivesixer seemed to be stumped and shadowed by a leering mime. His tough New Yorker, "beat it!". didn't seem to be working. Those creepy white hands never stopped.          

"Next thing I remember I was running for the door." Well, I thought I was running. It was all slow mo'. I was trying to ignore the singing, snippy corridors. I collapsed at the concierge's desk. He informed me, "You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave." HUH? Has he met SB Musing ? I battered at that fine gilded door, and finally broke free. "Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light." Like a mindless moth, I was fascinated. Surprise! Several of us were scaling the Eiffel Tower. I waved at BlueMoon Apondia was reading a french language guide up there.WakeUpAndLive~doingNaNo'24 💙 Carly-wrimo 2024 All were grinning and waving. Where did the pink monster champagne bubbles come from? They were obnoxious trying to tickle our noses. Whoa! This is quite the backpacking trip!

         Whew! After my horror experience, I craved a good laugh. I found just the venue, a comedian, Olivier Giraud's version of ' How to Become a Parisian in One-Hour.' Really? Was this possible? He was hilarious! Yes, he mimicked the arrogance, the impatience, the rudeness, and the short-temperedness of Parisians. He covered how to think, dress, act, walk, and talk like the snobby locals. This was all in good fun. All my 'bonjours' have been returned.

         Au revoir, Paris, I shall miss you! You are a dazzler.