Bonjour, mes amies!
It's Wednesday, which means it's time for another exciting installment of my Prague adventures. As always, I'm writing from my darling hotel room, a sweet little haven adorned with the most exquisite, vintage floral wallpaper. The sun is streaming through the window, bathing the room in a lovely, soft glow that practically screams, "Pink Tutu, it's time to explore!"
Well, darling, I'm ready.
This week's adventure began on Monday with a thrilling ride on the Orient Express. Don't worry, I made sure my pink tutu was on point for the journey. It wouldn't be a true Pink Tutu experience without a touch of Parisian elegance. I felt like I stepped right out of a novel, complete with a steaming cup of tea and a handsome French gentleman across the table - a most charming experience indeed!
I arrived in Prague with my heart soaring. This city is simply magical. Think cobbled streets, grand buildings with stunning stained-glass windows, and quaint little cafes where you can sip on steaming cups of strong coffee (strong enough to make you believe in fairy tales). I must tell you, Prague makes even the pinkest tutu look chic.
Of course, no trip to Prague is complete without a dose of ballet, which is where my real adventure begins. Today, December 27th, 1995, I’m off to see the Prague National Theatre's production of Giselle, the story of a lovelorn country girl who dances herself to death. I do love a dramatic storyline.
I'm positively bursting with excitement to see Giselle come to life. It’s a story I know well, a beautiful ballet of passion, betrayal, and, of course, a dash of ghostly elegance. Giselle’s final pas de deux with her ghostly love is particularly striking, and I’m sure it will send shivers down my spine (and make me crave a bit of my favorite cherry cake afterwards, a ritual that usually occurs whenever I feel truly moved).
And what outfit have I chosen for this special evening? You guessed it – my most prized pink tutu, the one I picked up at the annual ballet recital sale at my old school back in Derbyshire. This tulle masterpiece is quite something, with all the delicate embroidery you could wish for, and just a touch of a faded rose shade. It feels perfectly elegant for a night of such tragic and exquisite dance.
I'm already picturing the grand old theater, with its opulent chandeliers and velvety seats. Every fiber of my being is buzzing with anticipation, just as a tutu flutters in the breeze.
But, first, darling, it's time for a spot of lunch. There's a darling cafe down the street I spotted yesterday – “Café de Paris,” they call it, and it boasts the most divine pastry selection. One might think that the French know a thing or two about pastry, so I shall be giving it a try. I have my eye on a beautifully ornate raspberry tart that promises to be a symphony of pink, just my style.
I shall write to you all soon, darling. There’s a lovely bookstore down the street I plan on visiting later. It looks positively charming, the kind of place that whispers old secrets with each rustle of pages.
Au revoir for now!
Yours in Pink Tutu and Prague,
Emma
