Open Writing

Here's looking at you, kid, is not a saying to which I've ever really been able to relate. I'm not sure how flattered I'd have been, had I been Ingrid Bergman, if every time they sat down for a glass of champagne or a quick snog on the lounge, Humphrey Bogart opened his mouth and uttered this rather banal sentence. I suppose it is a sentence but there is something wrong with the grammar isn't there? Also isn't this something one says when playing poker—perhaps without the kid tacked on the end?

Apart from that I do think Casablanca was a great film, and when we were in Morocco I was determined to go to Rick's Bar, Rick's Café American in Casablanca.

We had hoped to go to Casablanca via Fez but the King's daughter was being married so with no prior warning he had road blocks, huge spikes and fierce security police, set up to stop the uninvited from entering the city. This meant we had to take the long way around and we arrived in Casablanca about eight o'clock in the evening without a hotel booking. After much bargaining on her part our guide got us into the very beautiful, five star Hotel Royal Mansor. The equally beautifully dressed guests looked horrified as a bus load of tired, grimy, and very hungry tourists descended on the dining room for what was a pretty make-shift meal.

Most of group opted to go straight to bed but I was determined to see Rick's Bar. The superior person on the front desk was not helpful—there were no taxis at this time of night, it was a fairly long walk through poorly lit streets, and recently some tourists had been bashed and robbed (and I thought the authorities had their own unique method of preventing robbery in this part of the world).

We were not put off—we had come too far—so four of us set out to walk through this generally unlovely city to find Rick's Bar in the Hyatt Hotel. We found it. What a take! Rick was a little dark man, possibly Asian, in rumpled white clothes, a far cry from the slim elegant Humphrey Bogart in his beautifully cut jackets. Ingrid Bergman did not appear so he did not even get chance to say the famous words. The place had no ambience at all, and the drinks were so expensive we couldn't have stayed even had the barman put some brandy into my much needed brandy and dry. Oh, there was a piano tinkling, somewhere, but whether it was, 'You must remember this' . . . your guess is as good as mine.

Next day we moved on to Marrakesh. The Royal Mansor hadn't extended its hospitality beyond the one night. The hotel in Marrakesh was far more welcoming and offered us coffee and honey-cakes on arrival. These delectable little delicacies were so delicious I had a second one and in doing so broke the crown off my eye-tooth. I broke it off and swallowed it, and believe me, no-one for the rest of that trip would have dreamt of saying, 'Here's looking at You Kid.' They preferred not to look at me at all. They had their very own Phyllis Diller.

© Colleen McMillan

**

Colleen writes for Bonzer! magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au