 "An opera in making")
We are standing at the bottom of the opera house in Paris. There is a lake with live fish beneath us. All of us (a group of nine) peer down at the floor. No one can spot any water. But there is a sound discernible to the ears lending some credence to the legend that one of the world's most stunning and seemingly indestructible buildings constructed in the 19th century by Charles Garnier (to whom it owes its name today) is built on water. When Garnier dug to begin construction - after a rigorous competition in which he trumped many renowned architects of the time - he found the groundwater level high, but he decided not to let that deter him. The result: a grand, extravagant, opulent structure in the Neo-Baroque style. Who wants to watch a show at the opera house when one can see the opera house itself - and never tire of the tour?
We have been ushered in through a back entrance owing to someone known to a member of our group. He takes us by elevator to the very top of the opera house. We climb a steep slope of steps to a very narrow strip of cement from where we get a complete and dramatic view of Paris , the Eiffel Tower seeming closer than it actually is. The rain is persistent and the steps slippery, but we manage to make it down without losing anyone from our group.
We cross the stage - the largest in Europe and being readied for a new performance by a troupe from London - to come to the audience area, which is a stunning horseshoe-shaped auditorium in rich gold and burgundy that can seat 1,979 guests. The shape of the audience seating is designed to make "people watching" as accessible as watching the performance - one of the main draws of the opera for the French in the past. The ceiling of the audience arena, an attractively laid out piece of work painted by Chagal in 1964 with a seven-tonne bronze and crystal chandelier, requires you to strain your neck upwards for a reasonable length of time to take it in fully.
After the common areas, we head towards the less public ones and reach several floors below the stage, where we get a glimpse of how the stage was managed and curtains were handled with huge wooden wheels and strong ropes, before technology made the stage manager's job far easier, albeit a little boring. The corridors of various floors have posters of past shows and the days gone by. A highlight of the opera house is the costume design rooms that allow you to touch and feel the magic of the ballerina's attire - row after row of gauzy fabrics in an array of dizzyingly beautiful colours. In fact, everything one sees on stage - props, costumes, shoes - is made in-house to ensure quality. Tearing oneself away from this section is as much of a challenge as making one's way out of the backdoor exit.
We have been ushered in through a back entrance owing to someone known to a member of our group. He takes us by elevator to the very top of the opera house. We climb a steep slope of steps to a very narrow strip of cement from where we get a complete and dramatic view of Paris , the Eiffel Tower seeming closer than it actually is. The rain is persistent and the steps slippery, but we manage to make it down without losing anyone from our group.
The horseshoe-shaped audience area
The Palais Garnier has several floors and can actually accommodate the Arc de Triomphe from top to bottom if it wanted to. We start from what is perhaps one of the most captivating areas of the building behind the stage - the foyer de la danse , a richly decorated space with an unexpected calmness. We happen to see a ballerina practising under the keen eye of her instructor. But the area is one that is no longer open to the public, so despite our request to be permitted to watch for a while, we are quickly ushered away.We cross the stage - the largest in Europe and being readied for a new performance by a troupe from London - to come to the audience area, which is a stunning horseshoe-shaped auditorium in rich gold and burgundy that can seat 1,979 guests. The shape of the audience seating is designed to make "people watching" as accessible as watching the performance - one of the main draws of the opera for the French in the past. The ceiling of the audience arena, an attractively laid out piece of work painted by Chagal in 1964 with a seven-tonne bronze and crystal chandelier, requires you to strain your neck upwards for a reasonable length of time to take it in fully.
The wooden wheels with which curtains on stage were managed before technology took over
Exiting the auditorium, we are led to the large ceremonial staircase of white marble with a balustrade of red and green marble, which divides into two divergent flights of stairs that lead to the Grand Foyer. You will hold your breath for a moment as you take in the larger-than-life and flagrantly opulent area. It allows you to spend a few minutes picturing the scene as it may have looked back in the 19th century, as Paris's elite made their way for the night's performance, dressed to the hilt, as much on show as the artistes on stage. This grand foyer -18 metres high, 154 metres long and 13 metres wide - was designed to act as a drawing room for Paris society. The foyer opens into two salons and we see artistes absorbed in practice in both.After the common areas, we head towards the less public ones and reach several floors below the stage, where we get a glimpse of how the stage was managed and curtains were handled with huge wooden wheels and strong ropes, before technology made the stage manager's job far easier, albeit a little boring. The corridors of various floors have posters of past shows and the days gone by. A highlight of the opera house is the costume design rooms that allow you to touch and feel the magic of the ballerina's attire - row after row of gauzy fabrics in an array of dizzyingly beautiful colours. In fact, everything one sees on stage - props, costumes, shoes - is made in-house to ensure quality. Tearing oneself away from this section is as much of a challenge as making one's way out of the backdoor exit.