For the tldr; version, experience it through my Instagram stories of Casablanca
After several bank holidays in a row where I stayed put in May, when this final 3 day weekend arrived I couldn’t slack off anymore and decided to book a last minute trip. I checked out SkyScanner for deals and found one to Tunisia, but realized the pull was almost 100% due to the song “One Night in Tunisia” and while, don’t get me wrong, I’m still very interested and am almost certain I will go one day, didn’t feel like this was the time. However, expanding my mind outside of Europe and into Northern Africa reminded me of a destination high up on my list just waiting for a long weekend: Casablanca.
Royal Air Maroc is the only airline offering direct flights but their timetable only offers a Sat evening departure with a return early afternoon Monday. At first this schedule seemed less than ideal, but in the end I decided this worked nicely since I had been on the fence about going away in the first place. It still gave me some time at home on Friday and Saturday and took advantage of having Monday off for the return flight.
Day 1
And since things tend to work out for me nicely, the time change in Morocco happened this weekend so I got a notification that my departing flight would actually be one hour earlier. Brilliant! An extra hour on my arrival day because I do not like arriving to a new place in the dark (a basic tenant for female solo travel). I downloaded Casablanca to watch on the plane, stuffed a couple long sleeved, flowy shirts and my toothbrush into my backpack and I was off.
It was while I was re-watching Casablanca and saw my battery getting less than 50% that I had a disconcerting flashback of unplugging my phone from my charger and leaving my charger behind. A quick check of my purse confirmed the accuracy of this memory. I squelched the rising tide of panic by reminding myself that I always carry a power bank and by re-assuring myself that airports always have plenty of shops selling chargers.
We disembarked and I set to my usual routine of getting setup with local currency and data (50 MDM for 5Go, thanks Orange!). Then I looked for the shops outside of customs. Closed. Tried not to panic. I had enough battery to make it if I used my phone very sparingly. I think…
I headed to the OCNF and by the time I arrived I would need to wait almost an hour for a train into the city. While I normally don’t mind waiting, I was very nervous about my dwindling battery life, especially since I knew finding my Airbnb wasn’t going to be straightforward. I headed to the taxi stand happy to pay for the convenience of giving my taxi driver the number of my Airbnb host and letting them haggle out the directions multiple times in Arabic.
Finally, I arrived and was met and escorted inside my a friend of my hostess. I asked him if there was a place to buy a charger and he offered to accompany me through the streets of Old Médina to the shop. Perfect. But when we got there there was no shopkeeper in sight. Several men walked up to me and my new friend – lots of Arabic was spoken and they sorted it all out. He explained to me that he would go to another shop while another friend escorted me back to my Airbnb. I gave him some Dirham and he jumped on the back of another of his friend’s scooters and was off.
I settled myself into the living room of the Old Medina Centenary House Airbnb and waited until my new friend came back with the prize. I started thanking him profusely until he said – hold on let’s make sure it works first. Sure enough it didn’t. So off he went again. And then again. Finally on the 3rd attempt a working charger was obtained. A massive group effort! I was so thankful for them all rallying.
But now all I wanted to do was to charge my phone and myself. And since I definitely got the vibe that walking around the streets on my own wasn’t the best all, I scrapped my plan of getting a cocktail and light dinner at Rick’s Cafe and ate a granola bar and went to bed. I fell asleep, enjoying the bustling sounds of the marketplace and the prayers from the Mosque across the way wafting through my window.
Day 2: Sunday
I awoke in my charming Airbnb and got ready to head out to brunch at La Sqala. I stepped outside and went to take a picture of the mosque across the street and was quickly cautioned by a nearby taxi driver to keep my phone out of sight. Something I had read, but wasn’t sure if it was paranoid / overly cautious. This confirmed I should be cautious. Phone tucked away, I continued on a few hundred meters down the road towards La Sqala to find it very much closed.
Since the roadway didn’t instil a lot of confidence already and I certainly didn’t want to hang out conspicuously on the sidewalk looking lost and flaunting my phone, I headed back to regroup. After looking up more information about La Sqala, I decided it was possible that this wasn’t the the main entrance so I formulated a new plan to go the other way and and try the other side. If it was indeed, closed, my backup plan was to continue on to that road to Rick’s Cafe (which as a super cliche expat place I assumed would almost certainly be open for brunch during Ramadan).
At the other entrance of La Sqala was an employee who confirmed that it was very much closed for Ramadan – and he invited me inside just to look, which seemed kind cruel, but I took him up on his offer of friendliness since he started the conversation unfriendly and I turned him with my unflagging American good naturedness.
Good thing I had a contingency plan. However was very much surprised to find Rick’s closed for Ramadan, too. I decided to carry on to Hassan 2 Mosque since at this point it was visible and a straight shot down the road without having to pull out my phone to look at maps. I also figured it’s the main hotbed for tourism so some options would present themselves.
I arrived and was greeted by the serenity of the sea. Seeing other women hanging out, I felt comfortable to sit and hang out as I enjoyed the view and the roll I (thankfully) saved from my flight.
Bolstered by the bread I headed to the Mosque. I’ve never been so happy to see a tour bus of Chinese tourists being super conspicuous with their phones and cameras. I sat down to figure out my next steps and then saw people queuing by a door that eventually opened. I went over but then saw people had tickets and sure enough the guy explained to another tourist that he needed to go buy tickets first. So off I went. Was super excited to see a coffee vending machine because I still haven’t hadn’t had my morning coffee, but alas, it was out of order.
By the time I got back to the entrance, newly acquired ticket in hand, I realized that I had squarely missed the 10am tour and so now if I chose to wait would be at least 2 hours until a proper meal and coffee. Since my ticket was already purchased and I was already here, I settled down to Instagram and wait.
When the doors re-opened, I was first in. However there was some problem with my tickets. Mainly that, according to him, it wasn’t one. Look, man, I don’t know what to tell you. I went to the ticket booth and paid money and they gave me this. He granted me access and asked me to come back and check before I left. I was only half able to enjoy myself since in the back of my mind I was worried – was I going to owe a lot more or something? After meandering around a bit on my own, I also realized that the whole point was that this was a guided tour so I found an English speaking tour guide and joined in. I was immediately glad I did as I started learning facts and things.
When we got to the absolution chamber a guy came around calling my name. Uh oh. I braced myself for more bad news as I wasn’t having the best luck so far, but apparently my ticket situation was sorted. Finally, a win! This felt like a turning point. Joining the tour guide also turned out to be a big win and I got more out of the Mosque than originally thought I would. Now I was fairly confident that brunch and coffee were in my near future and the rest of the day would be smoother.
I struck out for the mile walk to Bondi, an Australian coffee shop that I felt fairly confident would be open. While I was definitely disappointed in the scenic nature of the walk (read as: not at all) it went by rather quickly despite my low sugar and caffeine levels.
Bondi was exactly what I needed. A recharge for my body (and my phone!). I normally prefer to eat local cuisine and my Avo Toast & Flat White with Coconut Milk was definitely not the most authentic Moroccan meal, but the owners are a a couple where the wife is Australian and the husband is Moroccan. They were in the restaurant sitting in the back the entire time and warmly greeted and chatted with most of the people who entered. I absolutely loved the feeling of community and family that they have created there and this is clearly a beloved staple amongst the local ex-pats.
Enjoying this welcoming and positive environment, I planned a walking tour over some Chia Pudding and a Chocolate Lavender Chai Latte. Bolstered, I went back into the now sunny day with a Lonely Planet self-guided walking tour of Casablanca committed to memory (so I wouldn’t be pulling my phone out in the street).
However, my first planned stop at Cathedral Sacre Cœur was closed! Of all the places I didn’t think a Catholic Church would be closed during Ramadan! But I guess they were taking advantage of the tourism low to do some renovations. I continued on through Mohammad Park and through the streets where I finally started hitting some of the glorious Art Deco architecture the city is renowned for.
Not being able to whip out my iPhone to snap pictures, was a bummer, but I’m also not sure I could’ve really captured the beauty of the dilapidation properly anyway, so it’s probably for the best. Here are some of the buildings I did get:
I wanted to stop for a Moroccan tea at Cafe de France but guess what: yep, that was closed, too. I headed on to the marche and while it was mostly closed there was enough open to experience a taste of the real version of all my Epcot inspired “Moroccan Marketplace” dreams:
My walking tour continued and I stopped in to the Hotel Transatlantique for a tea which was the perfect sojourn.
I meandered back to my Airbnb including through the old Medina which was fascinating but definitely not a place for me to do anything but walk confidently through without pause.
Back at my Airbnb I took a nap to make sure to have energy for the night ahead. Rejuvinated, I freshened up and headed out to Rick’s Cafe where I enjoyed a cocktail and a goat cheese & gif salad and some live jazz. Yes, it was cliche and touristy and not “Moroccan” at all, but you bet I loved every second.
On my way back I stopped at La Sqala which was now gloriously open and enjoyed a tea menthe and a Pasquilla au lait accompanied by live music. FINALLY, I was having a taste of actual Moroccan culture! This was an absolutely perfect end to my day in Casablanca.
Day 3 was simply enjoying a lovely breakfast at my Airbnb and heading home, so even though I was here for 3 days, I really just had 1 Day in Casablanca (and yes, a more serious travel blogger would check the keywords of “36 Hours in” versus “One Day In” but I ain’t in it for the web traffic, I’m just a gal internet logging her experiences).