Advertisement
Hassan II Mosque
Casablanca's premiere tourist attraction, built in 1993 in honour of King Hassan II. It can hold over 25,000 worshippers, plus another 80,000 in the surrounding plazas Alex-Cairo-Casablanca
Tom Griffith
A Moroccan bar The name is one of Africa's most evocative, up there with Timbuktu and Kampala and Ouagadougou - "Casablanca", home of Rick's cafe and where Bogie and Ingrid Bergman had their cinematic love affair. The reality is not quite as romantic - actually, Casablanca is just a big, boring city in Morocco, home to about 5 million people and the country's main airport. It's not even particularly old - the French built it pretty much from scratch a century or so ago. There
is a small medina (an area in Moroccan towns of old houses, labrynthine alleyways, and busy souks), but the city is mainly French-style architecture, modern office buildings, and wide avenues, with the odd park or plaza.
Casa is pretty easy to knock over in a day or two, and has been a great place to ease into Morocco. After five weeks in Egypt, I am finding it a little hard to adapt to the reality of a new country. Despite both nations being in North Africa, and both being Arabic, and both being Muslim, the two are very different. Sure, you get the call to prayer five times a day, and many women are veiled, and the
Moroccan Renault
A battered old French car parked in Casablanca's Medina, or Old City flowing Arabic script is everywhere - but there the similarities end. Many of the men get around in felt hats, and hooded cloaks that look like something out of
The Lord of the Rings. The place seems less conservative, with Moroccan ladyfolk playing a much more dynamic role around the place than women in Egypt. There are heaps of small bars, where you can get a guilt-free beer and meet the locals. The food has changed - it's no longer shawerma and felafel, but tagine, poulet and couscous. And the language - now there was a surprise. I arrived intending to improve my basic grasp of Arabic, and as soon as I delivered my first 'salaam alekum', I was met with a 'Bonjour' in reply. In fact, every time I try to speak Arabic here, my opposite number always responds
en francais.
This is because, despite just a 50-year or so colonisation, the French really did a number on this place. It couldn't be more French if you took Marseilles circa-1978 and dumped it down on the north-west coast of Africa. Every street corner has a cafe serving chocolat chaud and cafe au lait, the cars are all Renaults
Look at my eel!
A fisherman shows off his big moray at Casa's port and Citroens, the restaurants have menus listing their plats du jour, the newspapers have names like 'L'Opinion' and 'Le Matin', and everybody calls you 'Monsieur'. So I have dumped my Arabic phrasebook, bought a French dictionary, and I'm reading the local newspapers trying to hastily brush up on the language I studied for three years at High School.
Casa, despite its size, really only has two sights for tourists to visit: the Medina, and the Mosque of Hassan II. The former is good fun, lots of twisting laneways to investigate, and plenty of greasy-looking guys to avoid as they try to entice you into their brother's shop, just look, no buy, you wanna get high? The latter is a gigantic Moorish-style mosque sitting on the Casa seafront. It is the third-largest place of worship in the world (I don't know the other two but they must be pretty massive), and it can hold 25,000 people inside, plus another 80,000 in the surrounding plazas. The striking minaret rises to a dizzying 210 metres. It was supposed to be built to coincide with King Hassan II's 60th birthday in 1989, but (this
is Morocco) it was actually finished in 1993. Being
Hassan's Mosque and flag
The Moroccan flag flutters before the huge minaret of the Hassan II Mosque in Casablanca Casa's main tourist attraction, you have to pay to see the inside. Ten bucks, in fact. I'm not a big fan of paying to see the insides of mosques, temples, churches, synagogues, whatever; so I didn't. But I bet it was unmissably fantastic.
I spent my first day here sampling some of the famous Casablanca bars. The first one I entered was a rather sad, yet strangely atmospheric place, with nothing but a bottle of Pastis behind the counter, a stainless-steel freezer full of Stork beer, an antiquated till, and a jukebox playing some funky West African vibes. Three guys stared into their beers, and one picked at some grilled sardines, as an emaciated cat meowed at his feet. A street-hawker walked in and tried to sell us all a pair of sandals; one guy actually looked at them with interest, but wasn't moved to purchase them. I read a French newspaper and briefly considered staying there all day, but thankfully moved on. My second bar was like a tiny remmnant of Old Paris slung into central Casa - Au Petit Pouce, a poky little place with Moroccan wine, beer on tap, and small bowls of popcorn on the
Au Petit Pouce
Watching the football with the locals in one of Casa's most famous watering holes. Saint-Exupery, the French author of "The Little Prince", used to drink here bar. It has been around for decades, and the French author Antoine de Saint-Exupery (he of
The Little Prince fame) used to drink here in the 1930s. I pulled up a stool, and had a very interesting conversation with a retired teacher called Brazi, from the city of Fes. He spoke good French, I didn't, so we conversed in a bizarre mixture of French, Arabic, English and Spanish for a couple of hours. A very memorable, and fun, first conversation with a Moroccan.
As he called the garcon over to bring me another beer, and offered to show me around Fes whenever I was there, I thought: I like this place.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.252s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 25; qc: 117; dbt: 0.1532s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.4mb
Ricky and Byron
non-member comment
Griffffffoooo maaaattteee
hahahah we finally found time in our busly scheduale to drop in on you. im just joking were in maths class hahahaha. Modern is shit without you mate we have to do this wired thing i dont know how to pronounce it.. its like work.. or something like that. love the pic of you in jail im glad the police finally got our warning letters. well anyways mate have a rad time touring the world :) were gonna see if we can print that pic of u in jail and post it around the school hahahaha. have a great time mate see you soon.