I am truly sad to say good-bye after only one-full day here. Not nearly enough time to explore the medina and no time at all to venture into the "New City," which undoubtedly has some wonderful shops and art galleries . . . another time. Our leaving also signals our last day in Morocco, and while we've covered a lot of miles, I am left with the sense that we've only scratched a small portion of Morocco's surface.
Amazingly, we still fit in Tahar's 4-wheel drive vehicle — us, our suitcases, and three boxes filled to the brim with souvenirs that were not already shipped home. That in itself is a testament of restraint.
The drive north along the coast is beautiful — long expanses of open land and undeveloped beaches dotted with farms and upscale estates. Apparently, too, some good places for surfing . . . Further along, we pass by Kasbah Hamidouch, which we are told is in ruins. Unfortunately, our journey to Casablanca is long, so there is no time for additional stops. We also drive through Safi, an important sardine-processing port city and industrial center, and Oualidia, known for its outstanding oysters. Unfortunately, we do not stop!
Amazingly, we still fit in Tahar's 4-wheel drive vehicle — us, our suitcases, and three boxes filled to the brim with souvenirs that were not already shipped home. That in itself is a testament of restraint.
The drive north along the coast is beautiful — long expanses of open land and undeveloped beaches dotted with farms and upscale estates. Apparently, too, some good places for surfing . . . Further along, we pass by Kasbah Hamidouch, which we are told is in ruins. Unfortunately, our journey to Casablanca is long, so there is no time for additional stops. We also drive through Safi, an important sardine-processing port city and industrial center, and Oualidia, known for its outstanding oysters. Unfortunately, we do not stop!
Instead, Tahar has made us wait (kicking and screaming) for lunch until we arrive at El-Jadida (The New One). Our lunch spot is Café Cousteau, which has reasonable fish entree's that are either broiled or fried.
Previously known as Mazagan under the Portuguese, El Jadida was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2004. Parking across from the ramparts, we head to lunch — seafood. Afterwards, we visit one of the most magical places I've seen, the Manueline Cistern, which we are told was built underground in 1514. First used as an arsenal, then an armory, it did not function as an actual cistern until 1541. In modern times, it wasn't rediscovered until 1916, when by chance a shopkeeper knocked out a wall. Square in shape, its vaults rest on twenty-five columns, arranged in five rows. The well sits in the center of the "roof," which allows for daylight to enter and create amazing reflections in the shallow stagnant water giving it an ethereal and mysterious ambiance. So captivated was Orson Wells by the Cistern, he used it as a location in his film Othello (1952).
Previously known as Mazagan under the Portuguese, El Jadida was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2004. Parking across from the ramparts, we head to lunch — seafood. Afterwards, we visit one of the most magical places I've seen, the Manueline Cistern, which we are told was built underground in 1514. First used as an arsenal, then an armory, it did not function as an actual cistern until 1541. In modern times, it wasn't rediscovered until 1916, when by chance a shopkeeper knocked out a wall. Square in shape, its vaults rest on twenty-five columns, arranged in five rows. The well sits in the center of the "roof," which allows for daylight to enter and create amazing reflections in the shallow stagnant water giving it an ethereal and mysterious ambiance. So captivated was Orson Wells by the Cistern, he used it as a location in his film Othello (1952).
Back in sunlight, we head up to the ramparts, which originally included five bastions — only four were rebuilt after Sidi Mohammed destroyed the town as the Portuguese fled in 1769. From here there are great views of the old town as well as the ocean. We meet a young boy who runs along the top of the rampart wall and jumps off into the water. Accepting no coins, he does it again and again. We also encounter a young couple, who seemingly are meeting clandestinely as it is otherwise "improper."
Next, we beeline for Casablanca. South of the city the air gets thick and hazy and we begin wondering what is going on. We discover that this is Jorf Lasfar, Morocco's second most important port and a major producer of fertilizer and petrochemicals. The domed structures along the coastline are the country's largest independent producers of electricity, which I learn later was primarily funded from a joint Swedish and Swiss com pay along with America's CMS Energy. Morocco needs air quality standards and an OSHA-type agency to ensure that the country doesn't kill its people from hazardous substances as it boosts its national economy!
I am beyond sad as we drive into Casablanca . . . the end our journey is just hours away. Ever since leaving Essaouria, my mind has been pulling me home — thinking of all that will need my attention.
Checking into the Val d'Anfa, the same hotel we began our adventure, the chaos begins. First, the air conditioning isn't working. Next, repacking needs to be tackled. By dinnertime, Jewel has decided not to join Gypsy and me for our final gastronomic experience in Morocco . . . this trip. At the pre-arranged hour, Tehar picks us up and whisks us along the Corniche to the Restaurant La Mer. Much to our amazement the restaurant is virtually empty. We are seated beside a wall of glass looking out into the Atlantic Ocean. New York is just beyond the horizon — somewhere. First time that I can remember watching the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean. Pretty beautiful. And, as lovely as dinner is our moods are more melancholy than expectant for what tomorrow will bring. Though there are few patrons in the restaurant, service is slow. How slow? Tehar is back promptly after 90 minutes to pick us up and there is no time for dessert. No worries, we have dessert at the Val d'Anfa, which regrettably was not worth photographing!
Checking into the Val d'Anfa, the same hotel we began our adventure, the chaos begins. First, the air conditioning isn't working. Next, repacking needs to be tackled. By dinnertime, Jewel has decided not to join Gypsy and me for our final gastronomic experience in Morocco . . . this trip. At the pre-arranged hour, Tehar picks us up and whisks us along the Corniche to the Restaurant La Mer. Much to our amazement the restaurant is virtually empty. We are seated beside a wall of glass looking out into the Atlantic Ocean. New York is just beyond the horizon — somewhere. First time that I can remember watching the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean. Pretty beautiful. And, as lovely as dinner is our moods are more melancholy than expectant for what tomorrow will bring. Though there are few patrons in the restaurant, service is slow. How slow? Tehar is back promptly after 90 minutes to pick us up and there is no time for dessert. No worries, we have dessert at the Val d'Anfa, which regrettably was not worth photographing!