Day 5 and 6: The Joy.

Day 5 was a nasty horrible experience. Eurostar lost my booking to London. So, I had to pay... take a breath... 230Euro to get to London. Not back. Get too. I was furious. I actually freaked out the nice French woman Nathalie at the front desk - we bonded as she is hard done by too - I said 'Can't I get a discount - you see, I'm from New Zealand and to be fair, it was Eurostar that made the stuff up...' and rant, rant, rant. There was nothing Nathalie could do, she'd get in trouble. So I bought the fecking ticket and bustled off back into Paris in a temper to buy a suitcase as my 2nd one fell apart. Yay. All the shops were shut as it was a Sunday so I met Guy for a brief lunch, nearly got my bag nicked (think was very clever to buy cheap satchel with 2 openings, vile pickpockets could not get in) and went walking around Paris finding places that were gorgeous - and empty? In Chatelet des Halle, there was an amazing monument just off a main street, all plastered softly, delicately with a beautiful fountain in the middle and heaps of land surrounding it for people to stop and stare at it. But there was no one there. This made me a weird combination of sad and happy that I was the only one experiencing that at that time.
An amusing French man (who owned the only shop that was open) tried to get me to buy a dashing red coat - or so I thought - I put on the 15euro garment and looked like a giant toffee apple. Un-becoming as my mother would say.
A very hurried trip with my luggage to Gard du Nord and I was on the train. Not as nice an experience as one might think. Leaving Paris, I was somewhat exposed to the poverty and the 'unseen' life there. Houses made out of bits of cardboard stacked up together, a makeshift chimney out of an old bit of pipe spouting steam. I thought 'what can I do? This is horrible!' Such a helpless feeling. What does one do when faced with poverty - it's so confusing because, crims are always on the lookout in Paris, in London, everywhere, but that's either to do with the fact that they are so poor themselves or in a situation they can't get out of - drugs or whatnot. It's sharp reality when comparing romantic Paris to these hidden slums. I've been investigating socio-economical and politically based theatre at the moment in lead up to my research presentation at school - looking at the functions of Verbatim theatre and how it can bring awareness to an aspect of life, an issue, a problem. Can I do this? Am I brave enough to? It seems, at this very moment, it might be the one way I can help. Bring awareness. Even if to only a few.
I arrive in London, picked up by my lovely Godmother Kathy and Molly, we head to Biddulph Mansions in Maidavale and after an awesome meal with friends, I go to sleep (on a proper bed) and sleep, sleep, sleep with intense, peculiar dreams.

Day 6 - several hours on the computer and only manage to find a £75 ticket back to Paris first thing in the morning Wednesday. 5am. Grr. Am incredibly pissed off. After Kathy and I had a quick trim by the inhouse model/hairdresser Paul, Molly and I got glammed up, me wearing her fake fur leopard print coat, red leather gloves and slapper-red lipstick. Heading into Soho, which is fantastic, we got tickets to Three Days of Rain, saw the outside of a redcarpet film premiere of CONFESSIONS OF A SHOPOHOLIC - which I've just read, very funny - and found a fab cheap trinket shop where I bought a pink fluffy feather fan for my solo. I don't know how it'll be in it, but it will!
The play was fantastic after the first bit - a slow start - and I was twitching away in my seat, trying to figure out what was wrong. They weren't enjoying themselves. Aha! The woman in particular was going through the motions, moving without impulse - very disappointing. So 20 minutes in, I'm going 'WTF!' then James McAvoy, decides to turn it on his head, whatever he was working on before wasn't working so he changes it in front of my eyes. There was a shift, you see, it was like he said 'Screw this' and started having a GREAT time. Joy. It's the essence of all truths. As soon as he started, the audience relaxed and started laughing and having a great time too. Even in the heavy bits (well not laughing but you know what I mean)
A superb play, many depths, a great workout for the actors (2 characters each) and apart from the dodgy American accents they all redeemed themselves, even the woman, who's Blance duBois-esq character in the 2nd half was genius.
Molly and I left thrilled, went on to glamourous cocktails at PingPong then home.
So thoughts over the last couple of days have accumulated in the bug question 'How do I bring joy to myself and others?'

Pics to come. I can't spend all my time on the puter!