We pulled in to Casablanca, Morocco on April 11th. We headed straight into the heart of the city where prior to strolling in the Medina we loaded up on coffee, pan au chocolate and an Arabic breakfast treat that was a flatbread smeared with a slightly sweet yogurt paste and a Zhatar-like herb. The Medina here, was in sections, full of clothes and shoes made in China, but as you got a bit deeper there was local produce, meat, and a more interesting look at everyday life in the old town.
Casablanca is a very modern city. Malls, IMAX, brand name stores. It’s also a beach town, with surf schools and an Ocean Beach/San Francisco like vibe. Every place we have traveled has little hints of home, and as we start to wind down our trip, I notice them more and more. I think I could keep going for at least another month or two. There is just too much to see and eventually life back home will need attention.
Oh yeah, Morocco… After our stroll through the Medina, we headed to the Hassan II mosque. Set by the sea, it is a stunning work of art both in its architecture and the actual intricate handcrafted art that make up the personality of the interior and exterior of the building.
Its massive interior and outside plaza can accommodate 105,000 worshippers at a time. Yeah, you read that right. The lower level of the building is where worshippers go through a ritual of washing themselves before prayer. There were spots in this ablution section of the mosque that had incredible acoustics. Sounds would swirl and build up creating a long reverb tail that hung around long after you stopped making sound. Hazel did some singing and I recorded a few minutes of it. It was quite magical sounding and I wish I could have some real time to go record a project there.
Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca.
Hassan II Mosque
Hazel at the Hassan II Mosque
We skipped Rick’s Café (from the movie) and ate at Sqala, another local favourite spot that served up awesome tagines and other Moroccan fare. I could seriously eat this food forever and never tire of it. Megan got called regarding a medical 911 so the three of us explored a bit more and then headed back for some rest before an evening jaunt. The kids and I hit a place called Le Cuisto for dinner, a spot rated as one of the best restaurants in Casablanca. It was a casual place, but served outstanding local cuisine and the owner Azziz was a good host. Recommend!
The following AM the kids and I headed out very early for Fes. This is a city I have read about for years and heard friends talk about. It has always seemed so mystical. The landscape along the way looked like a cross between Northern California and Italy. Rolling golden hills, casbahs, olive, cork and argon trees dotting the landscape. It is gorgeous.
On the way we stopped to see the Roman ruins of Volubilis. The place got trashed by an earthquake in the mid-18th century. It was a beautiful spot and one could imagine how incredible it must have been in all its glory.
Hazel at Volubilis
Volubilis
Volubilis
As we continued and got a bit closer to Fes, traffic got a bit gnarly due to the king praying at the local mosque just down the road from the royal palace. We didn’t see him but there sure were a lot of folks that wanted to. They were lined up down the street along with the news cameras, police, military, etc. I think we were lucky to have passed prior to his exiting.
Fes is an incredible place. We spent the first part of our time there in the Medina. It’s a mystical and exotic place with men and women in djellabas (which makes the whole experience a bit reminiscent of a scene out of Star Wars), fantastic smells and sounds, and the intoxicating sound of Arabic being spoken. We had a lovely meal, walked the city with a local guide who shared much history of the architecture, took us to the old university, a textiles shop, a tannery, and did a bit of shopping from the local merchants. The newer part of Fes reminded me a lot of Barcelona. Big wide boulevards with restaurants and shops on either side of a wide strip of tree filled park/green space down the middle where families gathered, kids played and people chatted.
Transporting fresh animal hides to the tannery, Fes.
Tannery in the Fes Medina
Our next stop was Essouira a coastal city on the southern coast about 5 hours from Casablanca. We had two lovely guides, who were not too overbearing with the non-stop history lessons. I love that info, but I need time to absorb it. These two had tact and were a good hang.
We visited a small co-op of women who make and sell beauty products from argon oil. It’s a laborious process. Shelling, hulling, and grinding the argon nuts by hand is hard work. This was an all woman shop, which in Morocco is quite punk. In fact, there is an undercurrent of bad-ass women doing things in Morocco that is bound to bubble up at some point into the main stream consciousness. I hope so. For all its loveliness, it is still a very male dominated society, where women are not welcome at certain cafes or coffeeshops and other such nonsense. It may be the cultural norm, but it’s still strange and seems un-evolved.
Visiting a center for at-risk kids ranging in age from about 8-17 was our next stop. It was something like the Boys and Girls Club we see in the states but specifically for kids that either have parents that are checked out, parents that need some assistance in navigating parenthood, parents that are addicts, etc. We visited their place then walked over to the beach and played soccer and some other games. I couldn’t help but notice the small but beautifully peeling waves. I mean… there is no surf anywhere near there and you shouldn’t visit for surfing. Ever. Morocco has no surf. None.
We stayed in a killer Riad inside the Medina. Great communal space and lovely tile and wood rooms all around the lobby as the courtyard. Roof deck was also awesome and definitely not up to U.S. building codes. Our first wake up call happened around 5:30 each day with a call to prayer. In the AM session this call goes on for about 15-20 minutes. I guess to make sure the deep sleepers make it to the mosque on time. It’s actually quite magical to lay in bed half asleep listening to this Arabic chanting and then drift back off to sleep.
After the initial awakening, I woke up (still) early and wandered out to find a cup of coffee. I had heard of a Moroccan blend of coffee, black pepper and cinnamon and was hoping to find a cup of this magic brew, but couldn't locate a purveyor. I did find an amazing bakery who did the cafe noir. It was just me and the cats (they’re everywhere! And not surprisingly, there are no rats) until Hazel came wandering in looking for me and a latte. (#pride. She’s only fourteen but really learning how to handle her caffeine. We raise ‘em right in Seattle.) By the way, on the second day I walked in, he already knew my order and gave me the coffee free of charge because he didn’t have change. Seriously? It took 12 years for my local coffee shop in Seattle to get my order right without me asking.
Meg making Argon oil
Post coffee we visited the port, where the boats are wooden, they have no freezer systems and they fish by net. The point about the no freezers? They cannot go out and fish until there are no more fish. They fish, they come back. It’s sustainable. Speaking of sustainable, there are no plastic bags in Morocco. There are no to go cups. You order it and eat/drink it there. There are no garbage cans on the street and there is no garbage on the street. There are few cars. It’s almost pre-industrial. People are still riding carts pulled by donkeys. It works. We spent several hours wandering and getting lost inside the magical Essouira Medina. I am sure we ate. The mounds of olives, harrissa, spices, meat, bread and all the rest were so enticing and colorful. Atty got a haircut. They tried to trim my beard but I politely declined.
Port of Essouira
Moroccan Haircut
Olives like you’ve never seen olives!
Meg in the Essouira Medina
Blue on Blue
Essouira, Morocco.
Later that evening, we went to the Hammam. Now, if you have read my post about the baths in Japan, you know we are up for adventure. This was equally fun, and yet an altogether different experience. As in Japan, men and women go to different sides of the facility. Instead of rolling in the buff, you wear trunks or your undies. There are three rooms to wash in. Each one gets gradually hotter as you progress from one to another. There are either faucets or a big trough to fill your buckets from. Here’s how it works: First you get a sweat going. Then you cover yourself with a greenish clear soap that I am guessing is made from argon or glycerine. With a scrubby rough hand mitt you then start scrubbing. After you scrub, you scrub some more. Water from your filled buckets can now be introduced. If you want, a “professional” will scrub most of the flesh from your body for about ten dinar which is roughly a dollar. Our guide used the mitt on my back and I returned the favor. You just keep repeating the scrubbing and washing until you are satisfied with your level of clean, preferably short of blood letting. I stayed in the hot room and Atty went into the less hot room to settle. I reached critical heat mass and started filling buckets with just cold and dumping them over my head Russian bath style. This was apparently scary to some of the patrons and I was told gently by our guide to be a little more discreet with the cooling of myself. So many rules. It really was amazing. I am sorry but no cameras were allowed.
After getting to a surgical level of clean we went to eat at Latifa’s, a local woman’s house who made us all an incredible meal. She looked just like a Moroccan Madonna. She is a rare divorcee and shared stories about her past abuse, family life and raising a son as a single parent. Her son Osama was a sweet boy interested in becoming a vet. His cousins who were also there sang songs and ribbed each other. Atticus and the boys tired of the grown up chat and went downstairs and traded favourite songs and chatted via Google translate. Kids are kids.
We rose early, ate another breakfast of bread, eggs, coffee, and croissants (this was after my regular earlier AM trip to my favourite local patisserie of course) and then set out for a camel ride. Dental hygiene is low on the camel to do list (see below). It’s a miracle a camel can walk let alone be ridden based on how oddly they are put together, but they do a fine job and it was a reasonably smooth ride.
Atticus and I also crossed the task of playing catch in Morocco off the list here. It was a good spot with peeling waves, camels and an ancient Portuguese prison on a island off the coast. Check! See the “Baseball” section for more on that!
Smile!
Fashion and Camels
The newest member of Tinariwen.
Our drive back north up the coast was again a look into the past in so many ways. Simpler times! I saw some more spots with great potential for surf on our way to El Jadida, a town that was built by the Portuguese in the 16th century. The food there was notably more Spanish in influence and of course delicious. We visited the old city there as well before heading back to Casablanca.
A week is just not enough time in some of these places we have visited and this is so very true for Morocco. We all wish to return to experience more of the landscapes, food, and lovely warm people. We didn’t make it to Marrakech, so that’s definitely on the list!
Jadida Medina
Simpler Times