Cannes, continued…

The end of May started our summer with a trip to Morocco, logistically Fez, for the Festival de Fès des musiques sacrées du monde (Annual World Sacred Music Festival). Which, if I described, I would say “sensorially saturating”. The atmosphere, the smells, food, the patina on such an ancient city, and of coarse the sounds. Close your eyes as you listen to Byzantine choir under a blossoming tree in a 9th century courtyard. Lean back on the overlaid carpets on the ground and watch the blossoms fall in the afternoon light. And hear the Muslim call to prayer as it rains over the city, whispering over the walls and windowsills, harmoniously weaving through the Byzantine chant. May we return to experience it again. In šāʾ Allāh.

Marrakech, Morocco

The second week we took a driver and traveled to Marrakech, along the sweltering merchant trail. We drove down the coast, past Rabat, Mohammedia, and Dar-el-Beida, until we arrived in Marrakech. Bustling, hot, and insanely populated, especially when you combine the first two elements. Where you definitely use the word “SAH-fee” (stop, enough) when walking through the Djemaa el-Fna. But there are sanctuaries in this chaos, respites to relax such as Jardin Majorelle (the famed garden of Yves Saint Laurent), La Maison Arabe, a phenomenal re-designed riad converted to a boutique hotel, or the v. expensive Amanjena Hotel where you can have a wonderful lunch, empty your bank account, then put a pillow on your head. (see attached photo)

Road to Morocco, continued….

From my previous entry I have established that I have a dangerous, cereal stalker in Paris. Like a perverted Trix rabbit, he bounces out and takes shots of me as I’m sketching statues of interest.

It makes him happy, or at least fulfills a compulsion, and  he doesn’t get in between me and my sketchbook like other tourist do. Seriously… in this exact situation I have been asked, “What’cha drawin’?”

Note for other artists: Notice earphones, you can listen to music to drown out the crowd, or just plug the tip into your pocket, even if your listening to pocket lint, you can fain deafness.

What I find unsettling about my stalker is his speed in which he can snap a photo without me seeing him.

Sometimes I catch him if there are enough mirrors….and lights.

Sometimes, I pose for him, like here when we ran across the original, Arlequin by René de Saint-Marceaux.

Which I’ve always known as “Chaz” our lamp at home.

All good art at one time or another should be in lamp form. I think that if Michelangelo would have made The Pieta table lamp he really could have made a name for himself.

In the Pompidou I answered the age old question of every girl friend I have ever known. “Yes, that dress does, in fact make you look fat.”

Lunching at LaDurée by far the best omelet I have ever had.  Black truffle omelet c’est trés bon. I think Ken liked his as well, I can’t tell……..

Although what Ken is not so sure of is the extremely packed cafes at lunch.

Lunch with our new friend Edmonde in a more gentile environment.

Ken with Edmonde.