A hug on Saturday night at Bercy

What to give a husband for Christmas who has everything and needs nothing? This year I decided to make the most of what Paris has to offer by presenting him with a night out at Bercy Stadium to see Michael Bublé croon his way into Parisian hearts.

I have done many a reservation online - some with more successful seating arrangements than others. This time I had lucked out and got it right. We were upfront in the center with a nearly perfect view onto the stage. Having convinced hubby that the metro was the fastest way to get across town, he rapidly regained his composure with a glass of bubbly which we thoroughly enjoyed as a prelude to our concert experience.

I must admit - with the exception of a Ricky Martin concert with my "Sex in the City" girlfriends a few years back - I had not been to a pop concert in decades. So far back that I remember using lighters rather than mobile phones as romantic backdrop to a slow song. Oh dear, that really DOES date me.

Anyways, we were blown away by the "warm-up" group called Naturally 7, a cappella style band who sang R&B with extensive beatboxing called "Vocal Play". How does a person manage to improvise a base that you can feel in your chest as if it were a real electric instrument? Mind-blowing! They had 17'000 spectators standing and dancing within 15 minutes. These are guys whom six years ago were singing in Paris' metro.



By the time Michael Bublé glided on stage - literally - the audience was on roll. Before even starting he had spotted a sign saying "A hug for me on Saturday night at Bercy" He actually descended down into the audience and gave the lady a big bear hug. And with that gesture, he had captured the stadium wholeheartedly. He went though his repertoire of classic croons and managed to take us all on his journey across time.

I do hate when the artists fiddle around with their earpiece while singing, another fact that has changed since I last went to a concert. When at the end of the concert, Michael Bublé ripped out both his earpieces, put away his microphone and began to sing in front of the entire stadium without vocals nor instruments he had us roaring at first but then not a sound was heard apart from his voice. Now that's what I call a true singer!

Needless to say, on the way home - after a truly romantic concert - the metro broke down and hubby got to take the taxi after all!