Agadir

The third part of our trip started with a long driving day that had us angling west towards the coast. Ouarzazate sits almost squarely in the middle of Morocco. The itinerary had us heading towards Agadir. The last four days or so we were hopping from coastal city to coastal city. Agadir is a smaller resort town, located on the coast in the south of Morocco. Though  “town” is a bit of a misnomer, as Agadir is a very modern city. 

Agadir was also interesting to me because it’s very much where the desert meets the sea. On the hilltop of Agadir Oufella, it’s mostly dirt and rock studded with cactus. Agadir is worth visiting for a day or two. We arrived in the afternoon. To get a good sense of the city, when we arrived we first went to Agadir Oufella.

Kasbah Agadir Oufella

This is a hilltop fortress that overlooks the rest of Agadir and the Atlantic Ocean. It is a beautiful and historic spot that is very popular with tourists, both domestic and international. It was busy when we arrived. The bus took us to the top of the hill, and we unloaded right in front of the fort. The best thing about Agadir Oufella was definitely the views. We could see the entire city and coastline. Directly in front of the fort, industrial docks, shipping containers, warehouses, and ships spoke to a robust shipping economy. Further on, we could see the main beach walk, Plage d’Agadir. Clubs, restaurants and boardwalks lined the beach, as locals and visitors strolled up and down the sidewalk. The downtown area looked new- hotels, skyscrapers and parks dotted the skyline. 

After the fort, we were eager to check into our hotel and explore- we had been driving most of the day and Agadir was sunny and welcoming. We pulled into Iberostar Founty Beach and checked into our room after a brief break for mint tea and cookies. I liked the balconies attached to our room. It was definitely warmer on the coast than it was in the desert (riddle me that!). We actually opened the door to let in the clean outside air.

Plage d’Agadir

Since it was right before dinner, my husband and I decided to take a stroll down Plage d’Agadir. It is about 5 km (3 mi) from one end to the other, and we relished the chance to get in some exercise, sun, and culture. Our hotel was halfway down the walk. We decided to wander the north part of the walk. We passed a number of seafood restaurants, night clubs, plazas, benches and buskers. Regular stations of exercise equipment also lined the walkway.

We perused some of the restaurants but wanted to strike further out from the hotel. We walked for a while and sat on the pier wall so I could sketch. After trying to subtly stare at strangers so I could draw them, we wandered past a place that looked good. We were seated promptly and started off with olives (one of my favorite parts of the food here). We were sitting outside under a covered porch. It had heaters going, and I could watch the birds fly overhead. It was starting to cool off by the time we got our food, but the bigger issue was that as we finished our entrees, it started to rain. We were definitely at least a mile from our hotel. Dessert seemed less tempting suddenly, and we waited for the rain to let up before we started our mad dash back. 

We ended up jogging most of the way back, speed walking when the rain let up and picking up the pace when it started falling more quickly. Regardless, we were fairly wet by the time we saw our hotel gate, but it was still a lot of fun. Getting to use the hot waterfall shower back at the room was just the cherry on top. 

We went to bed, knowing that the next day, we would be headed up the coast to Essaouira. We only had a half day in Agadir, but I would have liked to stay for a full day. If I had had time, I would have checked out the Agadir Art Museum, which features a collection of items celebrating Berber heritage like jewelry, carpets, and pottery. Agadir is also a great place to try a hammam. Hammam for foreigners is kind of like a spa treatment that centers around exfoliation and hygiene using soap, hot steam, and argan oil. A real hammam is about hygiene but it is also a means of religious ablations, and a social gathering spot. 

Journey to Essaouira

We got started early in the morning, since Essaouira is about a three-hour drive from Agadir. We also had to deal with a road closure, so instead of taking the coastal route, we had to cut inland and drive north through the mountains before cutting west to the coast. The good thing about this route was that it took us past groves of argan trees. The coastal part of Morocco is where the argan trees grow best. The trees produce nut-like fruits that can be processed into argan oil. Argan oil can be used for cooking, but most will know it as a crucial ingredient in hair and skin care.

Tree Climbing Goats

Interestingly, goats are also big fans of the argan fruit and leaves. Many of the argan trees grow on public lands, and nomads will bring their herds through them to graze. The goats, motivated to munch the tastiest of treats, display a unique behaviour. They climb the argan trees. The trees aren’t particularly tall, and they have a number of branches near the ground, but it’s still an incredibly odd sight to see a goat standing in a tree (how do they get up?). 

About 30 minutes outside of Agadir, our guide happened to spot a herd grazing so we pulled over. We were incredibly lucky, as Ibrahim had just finished telling us about the goats. Since the herds are driven by the nomads- who keep no schedule but their own- it is impossible to know when they will be there. Not thirty seconds after he had finished this spiel did the driver say something to Ibrahim, and pull over. In response Ibrahim delightedly yelled “goats”! 

Sure enough the first argan tree had four goats perched in the branches, munching away. 

Before I came to Morocco I had heard about this phenomenon, but I had forgotten about it over the course of the trip. Definitely something to see for yourself.

Argan Oil Co-op

After stopping for a quick lunch, we got to tour an argan oil co-op called the Argan Oil Cooperative Assaisse Ouzeka. It was a woman-run operation, which I really liked. Unlike the carpet shop, every person at the co-op, from the people processing the argan fruit, to the guide, to the cashier were all women. The co-op guide took us through a tour of their facilities, and it was really interesting to see how the argan fruit is processed. The guide told us that this co-op did all of their processing by hand. The first room had about 20 women seated on rugs and blankets sorting through piles of argan fruit. The fruit must ripen on the tree before it is harvested. Once collected, the women remove the pit. The pit is then crushed with a rock to separate the outer shell from the inner seed. 

The seated women were doing just that, the soft smack of rock sounding every second or so. The women moved with the confident speed of people doing a task so familiar it has become second nature. The discarded flesh of the fruits is fed to livestock. To humans, the fruit tastes very bitter, but animals seem to like it. The outer shell that protects the seed can be burned for fuel. The room had a very pleasant smell in the air from the broken argan fruit. I would describe it as somewhere between popcorn and peanut butter. Very nutty, oily, and rich smelling. 

Once the seeds are separated from their shells, they are placed in an old-school grinding wheel and ground to a paste. The grinding wheel can either be turned by a crank handle (which we saw at the co-op) or by an electric motor. We saw examples of this in stores later on in the trip. The hand ground argan seeds result in better quality oil. The hand ground oil is called “cold pressed” and the machine ground oil is “hot pressed”. When an electronic motor is used, it results in higher heat and friction that degrades compounds within the oil. Cold pressed oil has a longer shelf life, retains more of its nutrients, and is naturally more expensive.

The women working the grinder were working quite vigorously. When this was mentioned, the woman working the grinder smiled at us and flexed her free arm, miming her strength. Our guide spoke to the woman briefly and they demonstrated some traditional work songs for us. I am not well versed in Berber culture, but the songs featured rhythmic clapping, and a sort of ululation at the start.

We were handed samples of the ground argan paste, and it smelled even better in that concentrated format. It was also quite oily. You could roll a piece the size of your fingertip around your palm and moisturize your whole hand. 

Hunks of the paste were then compressed (by hand!) to squeeze out the oil. Both the pure oil and the leftover paste can be used to make assorted products. If the argan seeds are ground without being roasted, that oil and paste is used for lotions, hair masks, face masks, shampoos, and other hygiene products. If the seeds are roasted before grinding, the oil can be used for cooking or in honey. (they had samples of argan oil infused honey in the gift shop, absolutely divine) I have also heard about the effects of 100% pure argan oil on hair. It is supposed to be great for hydration, adding shine and smoothness to hair. I did not end up buying anything, though I was sorely tempted. Pure argan oil can be hard to find, and the cosmetic benefits decrease when the oil is cut with lower quality oil.

Essaouira

After the tour of the argan oil co-op, we only had a short stint on the bus until we arrived in Essaouira. Our hotel was the Atlas Essaouira & Spa and a super short walk from the Essaouira medina. If I had to rank every city we visited in Morocco, Essaouira would be in my number one spot. Essaouira had a great sense of place, historical presence, and beautiful architecture. Marrakech had the most to see and do, but Essaouira was beautiful. 

Historically, it is also incredibly interesting. Essaouira has been occupied since prehistoric times. A Roman villa was uncovered on the island of Mogadir, right off the coast. Berber presence can be found in recorded history as far back as the first century BCE. The Portuguese established a fort in the 1500’s known as Mogador (mog-a-deer). The modern port city as we know it was established by Mohammed III for the express purpose of spiting Adadir, which had been supporting one of his rivals. Their loyalties were too unsure, so he created Essaouira to be the new trade hub and important port city of Morocco.

It worked, and Essaouira established a booming fishing, woodworking, and trading economy. Today, it attracts a lot of artists (and tourists) and is known as a great summer vacation destination by Moroccans and Europeans. The beaches are great for surfing and wind surfing. 

We spent a bit settling into our rooms. It was nice to be able to lay down and stretch out after being on a bus all day. Eventually, with the afternoon stretching on, we decided to wander down to the fish market. If you don’t mind the smell, the fish market is a neat place to explore. Because we stopped by in the early evening, the fishmongers had already packed up for the day. But their bright blue fishing boats floated bow to stern in the waters. Larger boats carried stacks of shipping containers in every color of the rainbow. It was very industrial chic. Sea gulls and cats roamed the area (mostly in harmony) looking well fed. A few straggler fish carts offered to cook their catch for you right there, but mostly it was largely empty. 

We poked just inside the medina, a shop selling wooden puzzle boxes distracted my husband and parents for the better part of 30 minutes. As the sun started to set, I was determined to find some fresh seafood. What is the point of being on the coast if you don’t get to eat fresh shellfish? 

Dinner

We found a seaside place that had lobster, and I was delighted. We sat outside, as the temperature was still pleasant. My dad got a seafood platter with calamari, fried fish, shrimp and some veggies that also looked quite good. 

Because we were eating outside (and one of the only ones, we came in right at the start of dinner service) naturally you tend to attract or see some of the stray animals that occupy every crevice of Morocco. A detail that I have left out until now – my mom has a huge soft spot for animals. She has four cats, every single one a rescue. 

This meant that every bathroom stop, hotel visit, and restaurant meal included buying food for the local stray dogs and cats. At lunch we reserved a portion of our goat, lamb or beef to be smuggled out in napkins and redistributed. 

Anyway, we had a little stray cat skulking around at dinner and of course we gave portions of our fish to be laid under the table for the kitty. A “snackrifice” if you will. This worked like a charm, and that little cat was eating away and rubbing against our legs. My dad kept trying to pet her, which she didn’t love.Towards the end of the meal, she jumped up on my lap and curled up to have a snooze. I was immediately smitten (I have two cats at home). More than anything it was cooling off and I think my lap was warm.

Unfortunately, we had just paid and were ready to head back to the hotel. The problem was the little gray tabby, tummy full of seafood, didn’t want to move. I think she could sense that I was a weak link. I nudged her, trying to gently push. She just cracked open an eye, and kneaded her claws into my pants. I even tried standing up. Usually, that’s a failsafe method for getting a cat off your lap. She kept curled up in a ball at a 45 degree angle. Not wanting to dump her, I of course, sat back down. At this point she was giving me the evil eye. Her perch wasn’t supposed to be moving. Since she was a stray I was very reluctant to actually pick her up. A startled, clawing cat is not what I wanted. 

The waiter saw my predicament and came to the rescue. He scooped that cat up from my lap and plopped it on the ground. Little tabby ran off, affronted to have been displaced. My knight in black apron was very gracious and we did our best to clean up the food scraps from under the table. I have a feeling that wasn’t his first time rescuing a patron. From a restaurant perspective, they probably hate to see us coming. Feeding the stray makes them linger, disturbing their clients, the food of course makes a mess. To their credit they said nothing about our covert feeding operations and treated us with kindness. 

Aside from the charming feline experience their seafood was tasty and their lobster prices were the best I had seen in years. 

We walked along the beach home, we hadn’t wandered very far. I wanted a good night sleep before getting a full day in Essaouira tomorrow. 

Essaouira City Tour

To kick off the next morning, we were treated to a walking tour of Essaouira, along with its fortifications and medina. We started with the harbor scala. It was a busy shipyard, port and warehouse district, but it was also alive with fisherman selling their catches, cats and seagulls trying to snag their share, and people bustling along the cobblestoned walkways. We were surrounded by stunning architecture, including the scala – large square towers that crouched on each end of the port and the Bab El Marsa gate.

The gate featured reliefs of the Islamic moon, the Jewish Star of David, and a seashell representing St James. This was meant to say that all are welcome here. Our guide, Ibrahim, took us through the gate and we looked back along the wall. He explained that Essaouira was used to film parts of Game of Thrones, and from where we were standing, we could see the exact spot that Daenerys surveyed her army of Unsullied. 

I am not one for movie trivia, but it was a neat tidbit. Walking along the waterfront As we walked along the waterfront, we passed a number of fruit vendors with carts full of these small green fruits. Our guide explained that these are prickly pear fruit, and a local favorite. 

We were led up onto the ramparts of the scala, which gave us great views of the ocean and the rocky coast. We took lots of pictures peering through the crenelations, poking our heads over walls. The scala’s fortified walls were built to withstand attacks from the sea. 

Next we wound into the Medina proper which exemplified the best feature of old cities: the twisting winding alleyways.  The medina is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a gorgeous one at that. The alleyways were flanked by shops, stalls, and hundreds of people. We took a left off the main road into a very unassuming tunnel. It was narrow, and dotted with occasional doors and offshoots. You very much got the impression that you were under the city.

When we finally popped back out the other side we were in the old caravanserai which had been converted into a fish market. A caravansari, common in North Africa through the 19th century, was a roadside inn that provided lodging to travelers. It often featured an open central courtyard. It was that central courtyard we were standing in now. Unlike the fish market by the docks, this one was neatly organized with stalls covered by a partial stone roof. Other merchants selling spices and foodstuffs were there as well. As always, cats gamboled about. 

We snapped pictures of the artfully arranged spice pyramids and stacked fruit. Ibrahim, with a  little exasperation, commented that spices left open to the air like that are full of dust, bugs and dirt, and also “lose their flavor and intensity to the wind. And the perfect pyramids of mounded spice are fake. Look for spice in packaging”, he advised us. 

After more dizzying turns and rambling alleyways, we entered the old Jewish quarter.  We were shown the building that housed the oldest synagogue in the medina. A museum was pointed out to us, though we didn’t go inside at that time. Bayt Dakira holds the only still operating synagogue in Essouira, and is a dedicated spiritual space for the Jewish community.

Along the way Ibrahim pointed out restaurants- this one had fine lobster, but that one offered rooftop and ocean views of the city. I took note of where he was pointing but my real mission was to try the crepes. Crepes are a local favorite, and a remnant of the French influence over Morocco back when they were a French protectorate. 

We escaped the twisting alleys by walking suddenly into a spacious square: the Horloge de Essaouira. It had benches, trashcans and a tall clock tower overhead. 

Centre de la Bijouterie Artisanale Maalem Ali

Our last stop was deeper into Essaouira and away from the medina. It was a jewelry store known for their silverwork and their hiring of hard of hearing and deaf staff. The store was very interesting. Several artisans were at work, and were not bothered by us watching. The owner and master craftsman Abdellah pointed to a photograph on the wall- it featured the store owner, staff, and the current president of Morocco. They also had a Tifinagh alphabet chart hanging up, perhaps for doing engravings for Berber clients. The show floor had a huge array of jewelry with a strong emphasis on rings, bracelets, necklaces, and earrings but mixed in were cloak pins, daggers, perfume bottles, and figurines. They had a great mix of traditional and modern pieces and they used beads, precious stones, enamel, engravings, and precious metals in the jewelry. 

More experienced shoppers than I remarked that the prices were reasonable. The staff was also ready to converse in Arabic, French, and English. This was common throughout Morocco but it is always worth a moment of appreciation. The last standout feature was the courtyard outside the shop. It is beautifully curated with a fountain, chairs and benches, and tons of bougainvillea in pink, reds and whites climbing the walls. Pots of flowers and bright sunshine completed the picture. 

General information and history: 

Centre de la Bijouterie Artisanale Maalem Ali 1908 is jewelry store and artisan workshop. It opened in 1908 under the master craftsman Abdellah, who has since expanded the practice taking on apprentices and perfecting the art of silverwork and filigree. They offer custom adjustments to any piece purchased. The store has also curated a sterling reputation of friendliness, good pricing, and beautiful artistry. 

Bayt Dakira

We hustled and it was maybe a 15- minute walk from the jeweler to Bayt Dakira. It was relatively empty; I assumed most people were at lunch. Visiting was free, and when we walked in, we were greeted by a number of docents standing in the atrium. When we responded in English, one of the guides approached us and offered to give us a short overall tour. He explained that most of the signs and labels were in French.

What then occurred was an hour and half private tour of public portions of the space. We had an absolute blast. He showed us the synagogue, explained the history of how it was built and came to be protected. There were rooms of artifacts, with Torahs written on antelope hide, cultural wedding dresses, and a marriage license. He showed us videos that had footage of historic Essaouira- the figures in black and white bustling on camel caravans to a much smaller but still recognizable city. This was the last camel caravan that made the journey across the desert before they were fully supplanted by more modern means of transporting goods. 

He talked about the role of Morocco in WWII, and how their king refused to give the Nazi party the list of Jewish citizens. He was exiled as a result, but celebrated for his humanity. Upstairs were a library and active research rooms, offices, and other administrative roles. We got to wander freely. He explained that there were Jewish scholars, and university students studying history and preservation. A computer lab hummed away. The whole place was a testament to unity. The phrase “Salam Lekulam” is on the wall in both the Arabic and Roman alphabets. This is a combination of the Arabic phrase “salam alaikum” which means “peace be upon you” and the Hebrew greeting “shalom lekulam” meaning “peace to everyone”. The combined phrase means “Peace to all”, a symbolic and meaningful gesture of solidarity. In fact the name Bayt Dakira means “house of memories”.

At one point, our impromptu guide pointed to a gentleman walking through the museum. It was   an advisor to the king and president of the non-profit that runs Bayt Dakira. We couldn’t believe it! We had just finished hearing the story of the place, and the advisor came walking through. According to our guide he is there a lot. 

As we wrapped up our tour, I asked him how many languages he spoke. He replied that he knew five! But he only learned one willingly. Curious, I asked for more detail. He explained that he is ethnically Berber, so he grew up speaking the native dialect. Once he got to school, all his friends and classmates were talking in Arabic, so he learned that first. Growing up the school required the students to learn French – at that time, it was the trade language of the country. As a grown man, it quickly became apparent that English was the language of business and tourism, so he learned that as well. After a while he figured he would pick a language that he wanted to learn. He chose Spanish; he downloaded an app and started working through the lessons.

He said that he noticed that it was a lot harder than he thought it would be, and it seemed really unfamiliar. Some weeks later he realizes the lessons are for learning German! At that point he gave up, and finished learning German. So even the language he picked to learn wasn’t really what he wanted. 

After our tour and a profuse thanks from us (we even tried to tip him, but he wouldn’t have any of it), we spent a little more time poking around the museum. Eventually our hunger drove us back out into the streets in the search of some crepes. 

We wandered a  bit, getting delightfully lost, and came upon a crepe vendor. They didn’t have any substantial crepes but we decided to stop there for lunch anyway. I got a goat cheese and walnut crepe and then a nutella crepe for dessert. My husband got an egg, spinach and tomato crepe, and split the dessert crepe with me. The crepes were enormous, but not particularly remarkable. We sat in the Horloge d’Essaouira square to eat, and watched the musicians and artisans at work. 

As the sun arced across the sky in the afternoon, we decided to go shopping. My husband wanted one of the wooden puzzle boxes that we had been shown the previous day by a woodworking vendor. We both love a well-made piece of wood, and the puzzle aspect made it fun. We did not have to search very long until we found another vendor that had them. Amusingly he promised that if we could open the box by solving the puzzle, he would give it to us for free. Despite having played with and been shown the solutions just the day before, we couldn’t do it. After lots of examining and more reasonable bargaining we walked away with a puzzle box and a wooden hair clip for me. 

We were approaching my daily limit for interactions, and I was starting to fatigue from being on the road for so long. We decided to head back to the hotel for the chance to relax and unwind a bit. Sometimes the best vacation is just lying on a bed. After several hours of vegetating, in which my husband went for a walk, I was coming back to life a bit. We headed out for dinner and wandered inland- both away from the ocean and the Medina to get a better sense of the other parts of Essouira. 

Dinner at Gusto

The Italian restaurant we ended up at was more upscale and absolutely charming. I think we walked in around six, which seems to be early for Moroccan dinner hour as we were the first people there. We were seated, and other diners filtered in over the course of the next hour or so. They had a live musician playing guitar in the corner, and the dim lighting, wine and mouth-watering smells made for a great backdrop. 

A British couple was seated next to us and we ordered our entrees after gobbling down the traditional aperitif of olives. Dinner was a relaxed affair- we ordered dessert after our entrees. It was at least two hours. The guitarist was playing the lead, but had recorded accompaniment playing with him, and I recognized when the track looped. After we paid, it was fully dark outside. We strolled the ten or so minutes back to the hotel and fell into an easy sleep.

Casablanca

The drive to Casablanca from Essouira is long, about four and a half hours if you don’t stop. To make sure we had time there, we had a relatively early start, leaving the enchanting city of Essaouira behind. Casablanca is a modern city in a new world. It is still a coastal city, but the water is much less of a feature compared to the towering buildings, busy streets, and crowds. The architecture was distinct from anything I would find in the U.S., though it is hard to explain how.

Church of Notre Dame de Lourdes

Once in the city proper we explored a few of the most notable architectural highlights. The first of these was the Church of Notre Dame of Lourdes. This was an incredibly interesting building that can best be appreciated from the inside. The outside is made out of the same sandy colored concrete that seems ubiquitous to the city. The entrance and main body of the building rise in an irregular tower. The lower portion of the building is decorated in a perforated screen of red clay. 

Inside however, deep concrete ribs loom overhead, with the spaces between the ribs filled by stained glass windows. Light and color pour from the liminal space. The ground floor walls are also covered in richly decorated stained glass. The interplay between weight and lightness, solidity and airiness is put on display. It’s a great theme to play with for a church – the burden of the earthly world punctuated by heaven’s light – the symbolism writes itself. A friendly cat wound its way through the pews, entreating pets from the tour group (my father was delighted to oblige). 

Outside the main building, but part of the church grounds lies a recreation of the holy grotto at Lourdes. (A Catholic pilgrimage site- the Lourdes grotto features a spring that was discovered by St. Bernadette through apparitions of Mary.)  It is dedicated to Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, an aspect of Mary. 

The church is free to visit, though you can leave a donation in some of the boxes by the entrance if you so desire. If given time, I would have liked to have attended a service there. 

Unfortunately time waits for no one and neither did the tour bus. We were whisked away to another part of the city and to Mohammad V Square. Notably the square was filled to the brim with pigeons. I listened to Ibrahim talk about the history as I watched the roiling mass of feathers peck about the large space. The square was established in 1916, right at the beginning of the French reign in Morocco. He continues on to say “The square is also known as ‘Pigeon’s Square’ due to all the birds” (ha!). 

Hassan II Mosque

Next, we headed north to the coastal road on the edge of the city. The Hassan II Mosque, cantilevered over the Atlantic, was our next destination. It is one of the largest mosques in the world, and depending on who you ask, the largest mosque in Africa. 

It is beautiful from the outside. The square minaret rises about 210m (689 feet). At night, a laser attached to the top shines in the direction of Mecca. A large plaza spreads out before the mosque, and other buildings flank the square. These included a hammam (bathhouse), a museum on Moroccan history, a madrasa (islamic school), and a library. Everything is cohesively designed with white and green-blue tiles. 

We entered the museum to browse a bit before our local tour guide came to take us through the mosque. The time spent inside really impressed upon me the size of the museum. Before I knew it, our guide, a short woman, popped out of the crowd and led our group of ten across the square. We were incredibly lucky; she was a private tour guide hired for just us. The mosque features guided tours in several different languages, but there are often 50 or more people trying to listen to a single guide. Our small group had a guide all to ourselves. Additionally, we all had headsets. Even if we weren’t standing by the guide her words would be carried to us loud and clear. It took quite a few minutes to cross the courtyard and wait in the line to get inside. 

During the wait she told us a little bit about the history of the mosque. It was built by Hassan II but was dedicated to Mohammad V, the previous king of Morocco. Mohammad V’s mausoleum was built in Rabat, but Hassan II still wanted to build a landmark in Casablanca. The government did not have the funds for such a grand building, so the expenses were largely donated by the people of Morocco. Each person who donated received a receipt and certificate. 

At that moment our group was waved inside. We had to take off our shoes, and were provided with slippers to wear. 

The interior was stunning; it was easily the prettiest and most ornate building we had seen on the trip. The ceilings were enormously high, though chandeliers and lofted prayer platforms created a cozier sense of scale. As we circled slowly through the space our guide listed the materials used in the building’s construction and in its ornamentation. 

She pointed out cleverly hidden speakers with woven gilles that perfectly blended into the geometric wall ornamentation. This was so everyone could hear the imam, no matter where they set up their prayer rug. The mosque can accommodate 25,000 people inside the prayer hall. However, the enormous courtyard we passed on our way to the building is an extension and can fit 80,000 more worshippers. As we moved further into the space she also pointed out the exact point that the building was cantilevered over the ocean ( visible in a very subtle line on the floor) This was a very intentional choice by Hassan II, and was a nod to the verse in the Quran: “His throne was upon the water” 11:7. There is a glass floor section that looks down into the ocean, but it is reserved for royalty and not open to the public.

It was quite funny because as our guide walked and talked we passed other groups, nearly triple our size and demarcated by language. We often caught stragglers attaching to our group think we were the ‘English’ group. Towards the front she pointed out where the imam would speak, the qibla indicating the direction of Mecca.

The lofted prayer balconies were reserved for the women while the main floor where we were was for the men. The carpet, a deep and soft luxurious pelt of red, was replaced quite often due to the amount of foot traffic that it sees. The floor beneath was patterned stone. In the center aisle, we came across a star shaped inset in the floor, with fogged glass at the bottom. Our guide explained that we were looking down into the fountain of the bathing rooms below. This allowed light into the basement space, and provided a connection between the cleansing and worship. 

We eventually circled back around the main worship space, and continued into a hallway, which took us to the main entrance of the mosque. This main space contained the tower of the minaret, a grand central staircase leading down into the hammam and a huge set of titanium doors. They were closed at the moment but she explained that instead of swinging open like normal doors, they are hoisted up, rolling upwards to open. The basement baths were again, segregated by gender, and we toured the men’s space once again. The room contained dozens of circular marble fountains (dry at the moment) that provide access for worshippers to perform their ablutions. The tile floors were warmed by under-floor heating, a testament to both comfort and luxury.

We eventually looped back up and around to exit, and put our shoes back on. 

As we trekked across the plaza, back towards the museums and main road, we could see a storm blowing in off the ocean. It was still quite far away, just a roiling mass of clouds struggling to blot out the sun. It was a suitable dramatic visage for the noble building to overlook. 

Farewell Dinner

The bus was waiting for us, and ready to ferry us back to our last hotel of the trip, the Radisson Blu Casablanca. The staff at the hotel was quite busy, since it was New Year’s Eve. Parties were happening all over the city, and from the stage, balloon arch and decorations it was clear that one was due to happen in the lobby tonight. 

We had about an hour to relax before we were off for our farewell dinner. This was organized at a local restaurant for our whole tour group. It was also decorated lavishly for new years, but it felt like it was just for us. Ibrahim convinced them to open early to host our group, before the later festivities would take place (and the smoking would start).

We were treated to a multi-course dinner featuring a variety of breads, fruits (I tried pomegranate for the first time, what a strange fruit), and olives (my favorite), along with lamb, beef and fish tagine. Dessert plates were placed featuring bites of half a dozen different cakes. A live musician played guitar and crooned to American classics like “Sweet Caroline” and “Blue Suede Shoes”. Daniel and I, along with two other couples in our tour group, got up to dance in the aisles, showing off our partner dancing skills with a cha cha. 

The poor waiters skirted around us, bussing dishes and bringing drinks. Eventually Ibrahim carted us out of there, many of us tipsy from the generous pours of wine and local beer. Even though goodbyes are always disappointing, it truly felt like a celebration. Upon arriving back to the hotel we decided as a group to make our way to the hotel’s rooftop bar. Some people wanted a good view of the fireworks, and others just wanted a nice place to take a group photo. Most of us squeezed together, and the bartender (who luckily wasn’t busy yet) took the photos. 

After exchanging photos and numbers, Daniel and I headed back to our room. We had a call of time of 4:00 am for our departure the next morning, so no midnight fireworks for us. Snuggled into bed, listening to the muffled sounds of cars in the street and guests laughing and talking as they walked down the hotel hallways: we slept as the city celebrated. 

The next morning we woke up, and the city was still going. We lugged our bags downstairs, and people on the street occasionally passed us, still in their party clothes. Our tour included the airport transfer, so after thanking Ibrahim, our porter, and the bus driver (who was absolutely showing his mettle navigating Casablanca’s congested streets in this enormous bus!) We climbed aboard the tour bus for the last time. The trip to the airport was quick. We were flying Royal Air Maroc back as well, a direct flight to JFK. Time was with us this time, so we landed back in the U.S. at 8:00 am January 1st. A short layover and a hop to Chicago and we were back home, unloading and admiring our treasures. I was happy to be home, but I think a little piece of my heart will always remain in Africa.