Yes I know that’s a famous misquote from the film, and now I know Casablanca the city is nothing like the film too.
Forget the exotic locale, Casablanca is a grimy place full of rubbish in every possible nook and crany (note I’ve tried to avoid the grime in the photos). I had repeatedly read that people recommend to only stay here for a day, and that’s only to move onto the next city. It’s a shame as Casablanca could be a great tourist destination and it seems the government might think the same.
Everywhere there is demolition and reconstruction going on. Parks and beaches have been dug up with armies of bulldozers standing at the ready. The medina’s (old city) centuries old worn away pock marked exterior, is being plastered over and painted bright colours. Men pull trolleys through the city collecting the endless piles of rubbish. Now this may have been going on for decades for all I know, but at face value to a foreigner they’re making an effort to clean up Casablanca and I really hope they do it. This city deserves better.
As we sped towards town, the taxi driver attempted some conversation. We tried our best, and I was kind of hoping with some of my Spanish I’d be able to pick up on the gist of the French. But their French is very much a Moroccan French. It’s very obvious the influence Arabic has had on it, and at times it even sounds like they’re speaking Arabic. Or maybe they are switching to Arabic as it’s technically the primary language of the country, but you wouldn’t know it looking at most of the road signs being in French and English.
We arrive just outside the medina, the old walled off city that cars don’t go into (well there were a few cars, but generally noisy motorbikes claim the medina their’s). It was just a 5 minute walk from where he dropped me off and I entered Central Hotel. The owner was just chilling on a leather chair, and it wasn’t until I stood at the counter that he came over. I told him I had a reservation, to which he replied You’re very early! I told him the flight was 1.5 hours early. No, come back in one hour! Wait, seriously, can’t I just check in? He laughs, of course!
It would turn out the owner is a bit of a cheeky character, but so incredibly nice. After dropping my bags in the room, trying to get a bit of sleep and failing miserably, I think screw this I’ll do some exploring.
Back downstairs I spy a cafe joining the hotel and ask the manager if this is his also. Yes! Do you want breakfast? No no, I’m good thanks. Coffee then, you need coffee! Oh yeah, actually that’s brilliant idea. He ushers me to a table and soon enough coffee and fresh orange juice are in front of me. Excellent, energy to enter the medina.
I’ve got to say, it’s initially a little nerve racking wandering the small alleyways of a medina. We’ve been taught that wandering down strange alleyways leads to bad stuff happening. And if you’re wandering around by yourself and you hear foot steps behind you, well damn, something bad if definitely about to happen. Overcoming that self preservation instinct is a little hard to begin with, but by the second day I was poking my head down some random alley and thinking, I wonder what’s down there. Usually it was a dead end. These things are seriously mazes.
What makes it easier are the people. Ignore the yelling (and oh boy do they like to yell), I’ve had so many locals see me in the medina, smile and it’s Welcome! or Hello!, or the more adventurous that know English asking where you’re from. There was even one moment when I was walking towards a makeshift platform where locals were painting the upper wall, when one of them on the street called me over as to not walk near the dodgy platform, pointing at the platform and putting his hand over his heart. I agreed with his sentiment, I didn’t want to be crushed by that thing either.
I decided to check out a well reviewed restaurant called Sqala (yeah there’s no U after the Q, take that English!). It’s inside on old fort that still has the original canons out front, but you wouldn’t be able to really tell this inside. It’s a really amazing space and was completely packed with locals, but lunch wasn’t ready yet and he pointed me to the breakfast section and the special for one person.
It was only 90 Dirham which is roughly $13. I agree and we begin. First a coffee. Then the orange juice. Then a tray of cinnamon rolls comes out along with an assortment dips. Then the plate that had two types of pancakes, a fried doughnut type thing, and something I couldn’t fit in because then there was also a bowl of scrambled eggs with Moroccan spiced beef.
I look at him and say this is a lot of food. He nods his head with a huge grin It’s breakfast and lunch!
I could barely move afterwards, but as I was leaving all the staffing said good bye and then the owner came out, thanking me for eating here. I told it was amazing, and I went back the next day for an awesome lunch of grill Moroccan beef skewers. So good.
The big attraction here in Casablanca is the Hassan II Mosque. It’s worlds third largest mosque, and it really is a site to behold. Sitting on a rocky outcrop, the beach to the left (well what’s left of the beach) and rock pools that families swim in to the right, it’s a truly spectacular site. The typical Muslim patterns adorn the tiles of the walls, the main tower making you dizzy just staring up at the heights of it. And an enormous courtyard for the faithful to convene in front of it. It’s an incredible piece of architecture, and more the reason Casablanca needs to clean up it’s game for more tourists to come visit it.
The one last place I wanted to visit was Ricks Cafe, the cafe cashing in on the films iconic location. I’d passed it by on the first day to check it out, and was disappointed to see no proper signage out the front, just a little simple gold plaque. Maybe a movie rights thing? But the thing that did stick out was the doorman out the front, who glanced at me briefly and immediately turned his nose up. Hmm, okay.
One the second day I passed by again at lunch time, and again greeted with the same “we don’t want you here” vibe. So I decided to read up on more of the reviews and the forums over at Lonely Planet. Sure enough Ricks Cafe was now a tour bus institution. They cater for the bus loads flailing around with cash from their deep pockets. It’s a shame, I was happy to pay a bit of money to visit… but not too much!
After a couple of relaxing days in Casablanca, it was time to jump on a train and start this Moroccan journey. First north, and onto the town of Salé, just outside the state capitol of Rabat.