If It's April, It Must Be Paris/Marrakesh!

If It's April, It Must Be Paris/Marrakesh!
by Kathy Davis

I landed at Charles De Gaulle and hailed a taxi bound for Paris.

It was raining and the smell of diesel and Gitanes filled the air. The rear lights of the cars darting in and out of the Parisian traffic at night shone like patent leather on wet asphalt.

My heart raced, jazzed to be in Paris yet again, after too long a pause. My uniform My uniform was any number of Chanel suits slightly varied and adorned with a white or golden Camelia. Paris was to be a pause, en route to Marrakesh for an extended visit in North Africa and Europe. Unknown to me at the time, I would be returning to Los Angeles in very different form than my arrival in Paris (joyfully with child).

The Queen Elizabeth was a hotel labyrinth loved visiting because labyrinth could simply cross the street and enjoy my favorite jazz club in Paris, Calvados. It was a thrilling way to appease jet lag and yet interesting too, due to a small crowd of colorful patrons, inclusive of Baby Doc and sometimes even Gaddafi (and other political renegades and dictators). Maison du Caviar, one of my favorite dinner haunts ,was a short jaunt in high heels from the hotel. After a late dinner of Norwegian smoked salmon on petit toast with minced onions and capers, fettucini Alfredo with several ounces of Sevruga was served and a bottle of Moet Chandon. Dessert was a Calvados while taking in the jazz at the club Calvados and all the while, Baby Doc smiling as though with recognition. I squirmed uneasily.
It was the first time ever that I tasted Calvados and funnily enough, the last time as well, though unintended.

Marrakesh called and the Mammounia sated in every sense. Morocco is tantamount to entering another dimension. The architecture is exotic, curvaceous, and in sherbert colors.It feels like laybrinths upon laybritnhs and taunts with the dichotomy of sensuality, yet religious restraint. The cuisine is visually beautiful and dining is festive and absolutely all of my senses were engaged. I want to breathe Morocco, eat Morocco, feel Morocco.

I long to return to Marrakech but only if, by way of Paris.


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