“We only said goodbye with words, I died a hundred times
You go back to her, And I go back to
I go back to us”
The airport was full of the hustle and bustle of excited travelers when I first heard it. I bought a bottle of water and a magazine and went on the search for the sound. The plinkity plonk of keys from a piano could be heard filling up the waiting area followed by a chorus of men singing Amy Winehouse!
After each song another person would take to the keys and everyone would erupt in song. At the end of each song the applause would follow, each time! This went on until the men were due to board their flight and then the airport filled with the sound of chatter and announcements.
Although a nervous flier, I sat back and realised how happy I was feeling, not because I was jetting off but because of the music. I was thankful to these men for gathering around the piano and producing such beautiful music.
My travels had taken me to Paris where my husband was staying and one of our first sights had to be the Eiffel Tower! More music could be heard and of course, we went off to investigate! Break dancing! Beside the Eiffel Tower a group of young adults in a circle break dancing! Their moves were incredible, as was their confidence so I joined the small crowd that had begun to form and watched their fantastic moves!
That evening we took a river cruise and the atmosphere was amazing! Not only because of the lights and sights but the sound! The live music performing wrapped you in warmth and lifted everyone's mood but the intention to detail was phenomenal. As we went past all the must see sights of Paris the songs were coordinated! Les Champs-Elysees, Ave Maria and New York New York had to be my favourites.
On the last day of Paris we went to visit the Louvre and whilst standing in what felt like the largest queue in history, a group of what I could only describe as pop stars began singing and dancing whilst another recorded them. In sync and a beat not missed, they were brilliant.
Although my profession means I listen to a lot of varied music and watch various dancers and styles, in one weekend I had experienced the performing arts like no other. Raw and real and I have a new found love for french music.
On the journey home and chilling in Charles de Gaulle, I heard the plinkity plonk of keys one more time but this time it was the confidence of a 3 year old and to my surprise, once he had finished his mismatched tune, the waiting area erupted in applause one last time.