Some time ago, Charles Aznavour died peacefully at 94 at his country home near Paris. Learning of his passing brought back memories, and I quietly paid respects. During my first hotel posting in Hong Kong, I was briefly assigned to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal for six weeks. Montreal feels like France, and everywhere you go, you find something reminds you of Paris. One evening, friends and I went to the Place des Arts in Montreal to see a concert by Charles Aznavour. I’d not heard of him, but when he sang (in French), it was terrific. He was a talented, engaging performer, especially when singing La Boheme, which has been a favorite of mine since then. He embodied the French spirit.
Again, fast forward to many months later when I was back in Hong Kong at the Hongkong Hilton, my first posting. One day I happened to see a notice that Charles would be coming to Hong Kong and get this, would be holding a concert at my very own hotel, the Hongkong Hilton. Of course, I had to attend and invited a couple we were friendly with to accompany us to the concert.
The concert was fantastic, and our group met Charles at a private reception. One friend said, “he’s Armenian, not French,” and my guest, who was Armenian, spoke to Charles in Armenian. He responded in kind, and the chat paused the surrounding conversation. Afterward, my friend said, “his name is Charles Aznavourian.” Each time I hear him sing La Boheme, I’m reminded of his journey from a modest Armenian entertainer to a global star. I was privileged to hear him in Montreal and meet him in Hong Kong. Life is filled with surprises.
Are we there yet? 