Rocking the Kasbah in Rabat (yes, we've been waiting years to use that)

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January 4 - 7, 2007

Thursday

We woke up in Chefchaoen at 5:30 am and left our hotel at 6 am. Our bus was a little late so we ended up pulling out of town at 7:45 rather than 7, regretting that we could have stayed cold in bed longer. The bus was fairly jerky but we were both able to sleep a little because we were very tired. If you’ve read the blog for awhile you know that 5:30 am wakeup calls are not the norm.

We arrived in Rabat around noon and took a taxi with a fast meter to the train station. Amy went to look at hotels while Roger stayed outside the station with the bags. The first hotel was a category 5 hotel ($50) but did not have heat. We both walked to Hotel Majliss, which was nice but pricey ($100). Having been cold since arriving in Morocco we decided to splurge because it had heat and a bathtub (a relative rarity).

Rabat is the capital of Morocco and most people discouraged us from heading there saying the capital was boring and did not offer much, but we decided to check it out anyway. We found it to be a lovely respite from our previous stops in Morocco because of the more European feel than Fes or Chefchaouen. Rabat had significantly more western dress, far fewer jalubas and head scarves, and a more bustling mix of shopping and dining options. Perhaps somewhat less “authentic”, certainly more comforting, and we were ready for a little comfort.

After hanging out in our fancy hotel room for awhile, we headed out for lunch around 3. The Chinese restaurant we targeted was closed so we went to McDonald’s (what would you do?). You might be thinking at this point that McDonald’s is the national restaurant of Morocco. It is not but we just never found much local food that we liked and McDonald’s was cheaper than most of the other offerings we found.

After lunch, we walked around the town and found an American book store we’d been anticipating, but it was closed with no indication as to when it would open. The British book store we found was also closed and wouldn’t reopen until after we’d depart Rabat. We stopped for some tea (it wasn’t mint tea and had a ton of milk), bought some toiletries at a pharmacy, went to an internet café for 1.5 hours and walked by a movie theatre to see if there were any American offerings. They were showing the Sentinel but we couldn’t be sure in what language.

For dinner we went back to the Chinese restaurant for dinner finding most dishes to be at least $10 and thus out of our price range (we’re cheap and we’d already splurged for heat). We checked out an Italian restaurant, which was also too expensive, before settling on a cheap place with pizza that wasn’t very good. The highlight was fresh orange juice, delicious in Morocco and cheaper than soda.

Our exciting first day in Rabat ended back in the hotel where we did laundry in the sink and worked on our blog (obviously not too hard since we’re posting this more than 2 years later).

Friday

After breakfast we headed into the city, walking the palm lined avenue Mohammad V to the old city wall. We walked into the medina which was a market decidedly not geared towards tourists. We were stalked by a young man we pegged as a potential thief (and, since we saw him checking us out, walking ahead of us, then behind us, and again, we figured he must not be very good). We also saw a curious string of carts along one of the streets that all exist to laminate your photos, cards, or news clippings of your favorite soccer stars.

After circling through the medina we headed back outside of the wall intending to follow it to the edge of the city, overlooking the river, before heading in to the Kasbah. Along the way we stopped at another hotel, the delightfully named Golden Tulip, to see if they might provide us the opportunity to watch the Chiefs playoff game, but they did not.

The view from the river is a little odd. The city across the water, Sale (pronounced Sawl-ay), is a sprawling mass of low buildings. The river way is very wide and the water very low with a tremendous amount of development taking place (either reclaiming land from the river or grading it on a massive scale). Posters along the river road show a glossy, tropical city in the making. We walked along the river and up to the beautifully perched Kasbah, situated with a view of the river, the seashore, and in an easily defensible position (sure enough we would find out that this side of the river was settled and controlled by pirates while the Spanish King’s Corsairs inhabited the bank now occupied by Sale).

The Kasbah, walled city within the walled city, now holds some 3,000 residents, though it was once a palatial residence for one family. We explored the beautiful gateway of the Kasbah, currently housing an art exhibit, and paid a 20 dirham fee to climb to the top to see that there was no view as the hallways once dedicated to torture and imprisonment are now essentially dead ends and the roof is not open to visitors (even those paying 20 dirhams).

We headed into the old city, an attractive and low key little village made even more peaceful because Friday is the Muslim day of rest. We were adopted by a guide and led around. He was informative enough that we did not dismiss him but it always makes us uncomfortable when someone begins to act as a guide without any establishment of terms. We ended up parting ways with him before he could conclude his tour and offered him 10 dirhams (he replied that the price was 20, though he said thank you and left when we said no).

On our own we picked up some postcards and wandered the narrow bright blue and white alleys of the village ultimately finding the garden and the garden-side café that overlooks the river. We had two mint teas at the severely marked-up price of 9 dirhams (one of the servers tried to charge us 6 but was barked at by someone else at the café to leave before taking our money).

From the Kasbah we walked to the tomb of Mohammad V and Hassan Tower. Hassan Tower is the minaret of an incomplete mosque. Begun in 1195, the tower was intended to be the largest minaret in the world along with the mosque, also intended to be the world's largest. In 1199, sultan Yacoub al-Mansour died, and construction on the mosque stopped. The tower only reached 140ft, about half of its intended 260ft height. The rest of the mosque was also left incomplete, with only the beginnings of several walls and 200 columns being constructed. We watched the changing of the guard, a uniquely casual and un-spirited event made almost comical by the colorful cartoonish uniforms of the honor guards.

We walked along the high edge of the city, the floor of the river valley below us on the left, the plush homes of ambassadors and wealthy locals on the right. We spotted a Pizza Hut in a shopping area below us, prohibitively far and difficult to get to, but tempting as we believe we have already maxed out on the local cuisine. We wound around ultimately reaching the walled fortress that is the American Embassy. Our destination was The American Club, three blocks down from the embassy, but the street closures around the Embassy demanded we take the long way round.

We arrived at the club, a place our guidebook advertised as a place for Americans, passport required. It seemed a likely spot for NFL viewing. The club closed early that day, for no obvious reason, and we were two hours too late. We stopped to rest our feet and before leaving encountered a security guard who spoke no English but tried his best to understand that we were looking for American football. He said he was not able to help us but did chase us down the street after we left and urged us to go around the corner to the “Marenz house.” We walked around the corner but saw no signs or indications of what the Marenz house was. A pair of police or security officers were leaning on a car and we asked them. Their English and our French demanded they get a third guard, a young man with great English, who stood sentry at a gate nearby.

We asked again for the Marenz house and were told we had arrived. We talked about the likelihood of seeing NFL football but still could not figure out what the Marenz house was. As the conversation concluded we realized Marenz was Marines - as in United States Marine Corps.

We made our way to the nearby American bookstore to see if we could learn anything about football games there and in the hopes that we may find English magazines and books. The store was closed but a helpful Moroccan guard with decent English tried to help us with our problem even though we don’t think he ever understood that we were looking for American football (the one men play). Nearly dejected we slunk to the internet café nearby and looked online for game locations.

Saturday

We called the American embassy to see where we could find the Chiefs game (hey, we pay taxes). The Marine that answered had only been in Morocco for a week so he tried the American Club but there was no answer. We called the American Consulate in Casablanca who suggested calling the Hyatt but we had tried them earlier in the week. We called back the American Embassy and a different marine answered and he told us that games are shown at the American Club. Jackpot!

We ate lunch at a restaurant near our hotel, Restaurant Mixed Grill. We ended up eating most of our meals in Rabat there. We walked by the wall and gate near our hotel and around the palace. We spent several hours in the Chellah Gardens (Islamic and Roman ruins dating back more than 1,000 years), exploring some beautifully preserved ruins and gawking at nesting birds. This area of the city is much more open and clearly becoming a draw for well-to-do locals.

After the gardens we went to the American Club because we wanted to make sure the Chiefs game was all nailed down. The waiter there told us that only Peace Corp volunteers, diplomats and American School teachers are allowed in now because of security, but we must look safe because after inspecting our passports they let us in. The waiter told us that the American Club closes at 9 pm and that there was no other place to watch the game. We figured out that all the Americans there have Armed Forces coverage at home. We went to the bar and Roger had an A&W root beer and we watched the NFL pre-game coverage (you may think root beer and football are universal, but they are not, and a sip of either was delectable). It seemed like a nice place to spend time if you’re an expat who misses southwest chicken wraps and reubens.

After leaving the American Club, we couldn’t give up just yet so we walked to Sofitel to see if they had any of the channels showing the game. Again, they did not. We went to an internet café to do some research on Casablanca and found out there is now a Rick’s Café in Casablanca (if you don’t know what that means, shame on you). We also called a couple more hotels in Rabat who confirmed they also would not have the game. You can’t say we didn’t try (a tremendous amount of work in an exotic land to watch a team Amy now avoids at all costs. Thanks, Herm.).

To raise our spirits we decided to go to the Chinese restaurant for dinner but when it came down to it we just couldn’t pull the trigger on those prices and ended up back at McDonald’s. Back in the room and NFL-less we watched The Squid and the Whale and The War Within. Amy’s family called her at the end of each quarter to update her on the Chiefs game. After all that work, it was probably just as well that we didn’t get to see the Chiefs blow another playoff game.

Sunday

We had breakfast and then planned on coming back to the room, showering, packing and heading out. When we got back to the room Roger mentioned something off-hand about not leaving and Amy jumped on it. We haven’t done much in Rabat (as you can tell from this titillating blog entry) but it’s a nice, clean relaxing city without the mania of much of Morocco. We spent the day working on our blog entries from China, researching at the internet café, and enjoying meals at Restaurant Mixed Grill. Roger also sewed up a tear in his pants, which impressed us both immensely.

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