Disco Balls and Plane Tickets
Chapter 6
Melissa: The sun rose early in Marseille and after a group breakfast, the four of us set off to do a little exploring around town before we were forced to return and prepare to perform later that day. We roamed the cobblestone street for hours encountering countless cute little boutiques, galleries, and museums. I soon discovered that the only I truly hated about the country, besides the lack of sweet tea us southern girls live off of, was the lack of communication. People tried to talk to me in French and all I knew to do was talk with big wide eyes and an animated face and chant, “I…do…not…speak…French.” With that, I got confused expressions, nods, and people walking away. It bothered me that I couldn’t read either. I focused on the pictures, sights, and my eyes found many vibrant objects to zoom in on at the museums, where I became agitated that I couldn’t read the description and therefore had no clue what I was looking at. We had lunch at a small French bistro and after a few more hours of wandering around aimlessly, we headed back to the room to change into our concert dress. The concert was at 6 o’clock halfway across the city. However unexcited we were, we realized that we had to walk this distance in our long black skirts, tux shirts and jackets complete with rose bow tie. We resorted to moaning and complaining and after a 30-40 minute walk arrived at the cathedral, sang a short set, attended a reception in our honor, the left for the hotel to pack up and prepare to move out the next day. The following day, we all rubbed our tired eyes as we boarded the bus for Nice. Nice was a larger city that the one we had just come from but it had possessed the same beauty as that of Marseille. We unpacked and donning my pink sequined halter-top, we headed out for dinner and a club hopping. The next day went on in the same fashion as the day before, explore, return, perform. After a day of stained glass cathedral windows, gothic ceilings, and little shops, we returned to get dressed once again. Lucky for us, the venue, so to speak, was not nearly as far. We lucked out and it was practically across the street. We warmed up in a side room and lined up, ready to enter the beautiful cathedral that, only in my dreams, I could have sang in months…days before. I felt my heart pound in my chest for a moment as we left the safety on the tiny room, walked up the small staircase and into the large church. My eyes widened in awe at the spectacular scene before me. Stained glass windows, gargoyles carved in stone, paintings here and there, and tombs of great kings all under the intricate high cathedral ceilings. I thought I had just walked into a dream as I took my place with the rest of the choir and Mr. Anderson lead us into our first piece. The bold and beautiful renaissance Russian song filled the air with a magical touch and made it feel as if I were singing it in the very same spot only centuries early. The song ended and half an hour later, so did our set. Heading back to our hotel, we prepared for the train ride to Venice the next night. Before I went to bed, I walked out onto the balcony of the hotel room to watch the starry blanket that is the night sky hang over the beautiful town under moonlight and surrounded by silence.
Chapter 7