Rabat, Morocco

Gardens of Kasbah, Rabat

The plane soared high over Madrid's dry cloudy landscape, only two days ago we had returned from Portugal and now we were back in the skies again!

Like the last stragglers in a flock of migrating birds we flew South to the warmer sunnier shores of Northern Africa. 





As we all glared out of the one small airplane window it was evident that there was a stark contrast in architecture and living standard from where we had come. We landed on the wide fertile plains that have been drawing settlers since the 8th century BC. 

The small capital city of Rabat in Morocco was pleasantly warm, not too hot. With blue sky overhead we walked through the small airport, changed some money and jumped onto the airport bus.

Ave. Mohammed V, Rabat Medina

The bus weaved through the traffic effortlessly, everything seemed to flow smoothly through a constant unharmonious melody of background honking. The apartments we passed were painted white and contrasted against the dusty brown road. Their windows covered with wrought rusty iron and Arabic signage. We veered alongside paddocks of crops and square sand coloured towers of ancient Islamic origin that rose high over the landscape. Arriving at the main train station, a grand white building, we realised our map wasn't as readable as we anticipated and Stu's phone had an interesting French translation of the street names. Blindly we went right, left and right again, holding the different maps at odd angles. There might have been some panic. Eventually we located the hotel and raced into the bathroom!! 

We didn't stay inside for long as hunger drove us back onto the warm streets and in search of food we walked into the old Medina. Passing through the walled Islamic grand arches we could smell strong fragrances of fresh coriander, whiffs of battered fish cooking in hot oil, the almondy aroma of crumbly coconut cookies lined up in stainless steel shelves, popular with families of sweet seeking wasps. The dark cloth-covered alleyways were filled with stalls selling an array of fruits and vegetables, sacks of seeds, rice and lentils and also fresh meats. Many so fresh they were still clucking and running around. From inside rolled up garages, where washing hung from the second story windows, were shops which sold eggs, olives, barrel of spices, clothing, copper bowls and clay pots. The ground was littered with rubbish and a fishy breeze sprung forth when passing the smaller side alleys mixing with the surrounding smells of hot nuts and defecation. 

Rabat Medina

Cumin and other spices

Locals shopping

Night markets

With surprising contrast locals quickly walked about in colourful traditional floor length clothes, the women's faces veiled, buying their dinner or sitting drinking tea together. Alongside them other woman and men in tailored suits passed by, some in heels others in pointed shoes like something stepping right out of Arabian nights. From a vendor we purchased some green olives doused in a tart pickle paste and two sugar coated donuts, tearing into them as we tried to figure a way out of the dark labyrinth. 

Back out of the Medina we stopped for dinner of chicken and beef Tangine before retiring for the evening, listening to the evening calls of prayer from the crackly speaker on the mosque across the road.

Bab El-Had Gate

The following morning the sun rose earlier than we expected over the white buildings and illuminated the masses of people already walking along the footpaths. Having struggled to not drink the tap water, we went out to dine on fresh brioche and chocolate for breakfast at a small French pasteria. Although it was Friday, a typical day of rest, we walked again through the South side of the old Medina towards the ancient Kasbah quarter. 

Eggs for breakfast?

Marriage belts

Local selling water at the cemetery 

Local water fountain

We slowly moved in an up-hill direction peeking at the locals dressed in hooded capes sitting around drinking mint tea, shucking peas into a bucket or going about their daily business. The coloured buildings we passed looked tired and worn down, with paint peeling from the lower levels and cracks or holes extending out from the windows. They maintained a real lived-in feel and washing hung in the windows drying over the potholed and muddy streets below. Shade sails hung between buildings and rubbish accumulated against the walls. 

Atlantic Ocean view

Bab Oudaia Gate

We passed several large cemeteries stretching for hundreds of meters along the coastline, it's graves all pointing towards Mecca and talked with several of the cats just laying about enjoying the morning sun. 

Eventually we reached what we guessed was the Kasbah and its 20 foot high, fortified golden clay-coloured walls. 





Walking towards the coastline we followed the high walls, which resembles a cornerstone, until we reached the viewpoint of the neighbouring and ancient city of Sale where the sea just blended with the sky; surrounded by the mouth of the Bou Regreg River on one side and the deep blue of the Atlantic Ocean. Looking below we could see where the river empties into the sea and where Spanish galleons hot in pursuit of pirates were often caught on a barely submerged sandbar while cannon fire from Kasbah rained down on them. From the terraced viewpoint we entered the now idyllic and picturesque blue and white painted narrow lanes of Kasbah.  

Inside the Kasbah

Inside the Kasbah

The Kasbah was built by Muslim refugees escaping from Spain during the reign of the Almohads (AD1121-1269). Kasbah of the Udayas, built over the Kasbah of the Almoravids, occupies the oldest part of the city. The predominantly residential area was deserted around AD1199 but today is home to many local Moroccans. By far the best part was just aimlessly wandering around the small cool alleys and admiring the stunning doorways. 

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah door

Kasbah window

Returning back to check out of the hotel via the waterfront we were hot, sweaty and tired. The sun continued to bore down and fry us so we dived for cover again in a section of the Medina. We ended up in a dirty market where locals, selling second hands items, haggled for space with rats. 

View of the Kasbah

So we continued on in search of the Hassen tower. The building of the Hassen tower began in 1195AD with the intention of it being the tallest minaret in the world. However as it goes, the Sultan Yacub Al-Mansour died in 1199AD and construction was halted. 

Beautiful doors

Bab Oudaia Gate

At the time of his death the tower only stood at 44 metres, half of its originally planned height. What is most interesting is the Sultan was a member of the Almohad dynasty which also built other grand monuments across southern Spain. 

Three mint teas

Our searching proved futile however, and even when we turned the map up the right way we still couldn't locate the tower. It was too hot and everyone was too hungry so we returned to the hotel. After checking out later we enjoyed an early lunch and although you're not supposed to drink the water at all we did opt for a mint tea and salad.

Hopefully it won't reck vengeance on us later. 

Tot siens,

Kara (Tania/Stu & by association John)