~ wander.essence ~

casablanca: back to hassan ii, a walk along the corniche, & quartier des habous

wanderessence1025 January 5, 2020

The streets of Casablanca were deserted on Sunday morning. At Café de France, where we went for breakfast when we found our cafe next-door was closed, I enjoyed toast with cream cheese, olive oil and thyme, a café au lait, and orange juice. The servers were friendly; one enjoyed conversing with me in my elementary Arabic and teaching us a few Arabic words. I had to give a coin to the bathroom guard upstairs.

breakfast at Café de France

This time, rather than fighting our way through construction debris, we took a Petit Taxi to the Hassan II Mosque. We walked around and took a few pictures of the outside, then backtracked east along the sea again.

Hassan II Mosque

Hassan II Mosque

me at Hassan II Mosque

Hassan II Mosque

From the east, we had wonderful views of the mosque along with some interesting murals on the sea wall.

looking east at the mosque

wall murals

Hassan II Mosque

After seeing all we wanted of the mosque, we continued west along Boulevard de la Corniche, overflowing with trash. Somehow we ended up in a derelict neighborhood that soon turned into a shanty town. It was a horrible place. Apparently a quarter to a third of Casablanca’s population lives in shanty towns in harsh conditions, in makeshift houses made of cardboard or plastic, or in ruined buildings. There is no running water, sewage system or electricity, no schools, and no work. I could imagine the hopelessness and could see that this place might be a breeding ground for terrorism.

Here was the strong stench of garbage, piled everywhere, scattered around the containers. It smelled like the stench outside my “villa” in Oman where feral cats were always getting into the garbage and spreading it everywhere. It was disgusting. Trash was scattered all along the corniche.

view of Hassan II Mosque from the west, along Boulevard de Corniche

view of Hassan II Mosque from Boulevard de la Corniche

nearing the shantytown area

the sea off Casablanca

In the midst of all this, we suddenly came upon the upscale French restaurant with an ocean view – Cabestan. We sat outdoors on the patio, glassed in to keep the cold wind at bay, and watched the waves dashing against the rocky shore. After gobbling down too much warm bread, I ate four big pasta shells stuffed with smoked salmon, ricotta and spinach. Susan had a seafood ravioli; I treated her as a belated birthday treat. It was lovely but a stark contrast to the shanty town all around.

Even the bathroom had a view of the ocean; the whole wall was glass and the toilet was in the corner, so when you sat on the toilet, your whole backside could be viewed from the sea. Luckily no one was out swimming or boating in the water. 🙂

entrance to Cabestan

pasta shells stuffed with smoked salmon, ricotta and spinach

the toilet at Cabestan

After lunch, we continued our walk down the Boulevard de la Corniche. The northern part was trashy; a big wall blocked views of the sea and another wall had an oddly out-of-place mural of Brooklyn. Derelict ruined concrete buildings tumbled into the sea. Finally we got to a nicer area with beachside cafes, the Tahiti Beach Club and other beach clubs, empty and full pools, waves dashing against and over walls, palm trees, playgrounds, derelict hotels, little sand piles shaped like pyramids, and the the upscale Anfa Place Shopping Center.

Brooklyn

Aïn Diab Beach

Tahiti Beach Club

Tahiti Beach Club

Tahiti Beach Club

Anfa Place

Anfa Place

Anfa Place

the corniche

hotel along the beach

King Mohammed VI

We stopped at a cafe under purple umbrellas overlooking the sea. I sipped on fresh papaya juice while Susan had a cafe au lait. My feet were sore, so I was happy to give them a break. The corniche was swarming with people, women in djellabas and headscarves, skinny boys in ripped jeans and black or striped shirts.

Terrasse Café

me at Terrasse Café

Terrasse Café

view from Terrasse Café

In front of a mosque with a yellow front, we caught a Petit Taxi with Mohammed, decked out in gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt. A song blared on the radio, “Big in Japan,” that made me want to dance. He drove like a maniac, passing cars into oncoming traffic and swerving to the right at the last possible moment. He asked Susan how old she was, and she said “28, same as you.” He laughed and said, “You mean the reverse – 82?” We all laughed.

mosque near Terrasse Café

He dropped us at Quartier des Habous, or the Nouvelle Medina, an idealized modern version of a traditional medina, with neat rows of streets, shop stalls, and arcades. Built by the French in the 1930s, it catered to western standards. It blended Moroccan architecture with French ideals. We found rugs, leather goods, djellabas, pointy slippers, and brass lanterns. I bought a magnet and two bookmarks. One shopkeeper said his friend told him, “Don’t talk to Americans. They’ll come in to shop but if you talk, they’ll walk away.”

oranges at Quartier des Habous

Quartier des Habous

pineapples at Quartier des Habous

melons at Quartier des Habous

dates at Quartier des Habous

brass lanterns at Quartier des Habous

Quartier des Habous

mosque at Quartier des Habous

Quartier des Habous

gaudy clothes at Quartier des Habous

poster at Quartier des Habous

painting at Quartier des Habous

paintings at Quartier des Habous

The call to prayer wafted over a loudspeaker as we admired colorful Moroccan paintings.

enticing paintings at Quartier Habous

We walked back to town a long way through an abandoned and derelict commercial area, then finally caught a white taxi to Prince de Paris Hotel, catty-corner from our Airbnb. Susan picked up two oranges and I got a 7-Up, and we relaxed on the balcony of our apartment for a while. It was a beautiful day – blue skies, a slight breeze, with temps in the mid-60s. Absolutely perfect.

In search of dinner, we walked past Bab Marrakech to Casa José, a Spanish tapas bar. The menu was only in Spanish and French so a bit baffling. We relaxed in a nice wood-paneled room with high ceilings and large windows, high and low tables, and a bar. I ordered gambas pil-pil (shrimp) and tortilla Espagnole. Susan ordered chicken brochettes. I had a Corona but Susan didn’t seem to care to drink. I looked forward to being with a larger group, and hoped some would have a glass of wine or a beer with meals. I enjoy having drinks with other people.

Bab Marrakech near Place des Nations Unies

inside Casa José

As we were walking back from Casa José, with my tortilla Espagnole in a take-out bag, a little girl came up beside me and fell into step. She repeatedly put her hand to her mouth. I simply took out the potato tortilla in its container and handed it over to her. I felt it was better to give her food than money. I hoped she would eat it before taking it home to her parents. It was 3/4 of the tortilla I hadn’t been able to eat.

In the big square near our apartment, Place des Nations Unies, kids were driving motorized cars around in circles, much like I saw in Korea. Kids were playing soccer, riding on scooters, yelping, hollering and chattering. Big crowds milled about or sat on concrete barriers. It was blur of motion and bustle. Most women wore the hijab, but some of the younger ones didn’t. The clothes sold in shops were shiny, glittery and gaudy, and these were the clothes the women seemed to wear when they were out on the town.

*23,011 steps, or 9.75 miles*

*Sunday, April 7, 2019*

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On Sundays, I post about hikes or walks that I have taken in my travels; I may also post on other unrelated subjects. I will use these posts to participate in Jo’s Monday Walks or any other challenges that catch my fancy.

This post is in response to Jo’s Monday Walk: Benafim to Alte.

poetic journeys: portugal redux

wanderessence1025 January 3, 2020

Portugal Redux

It wasn’t the country I remembered
with its laundry flapping on balconies, whimsical
as crêpe paper streamers in breezy sunlight.

No, it was chilly lichen-covered grottoes
invaded by Chinese tourists; it was dampness
seeping through limestone under hunkering leaden skies.

It was lines of sodden jeans hanging
heavy over azulejo walls.
It was jumbles of anchors and fishing nets

and boats with prows full of innuendo
– of forbidden fruit and soft eggs and
pink flamingos. It was ropes and seahorses

and tiny sardines locked tightly in colorful cans.
It was wind and rain whipping palm trees amidst
candy-striped cottages, once “haystacks” for fishermen,

and grasses rushing over dunes under hurrying skies.
It was jagged and rocky cliffs where the sea, like a fool,
flung itself, shattering into airborne shards of glass.

It was phallus-shaped San Gonçalo cakes
nibbled by lonely older women
hungry for love. On a steep hill,

a castle, once belonging to Moors,
hovered like a long-forgotten menace, invisible
in the fog. Buildings squatted, mired in dereliction.

Was it really me here before,
that summer
– alone –
when I imagined myself as someone else,
a woman on the verge of astonishment?

San Gonçalo cakes in Amarante

fishing nets in Amarante

sardines & other canned fish

the candy-striped “haystacks” of Costa Nova

graffiti in Lisbon

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“POETRY” Invitation: I invite you to write a poem of any poetic form on your own blog about a particular travel destination. Or you can write about travel in general. Concentrate on any intention you set for your poetry.

One of my poetry intentions for my trip to Portugal was this: Pick 6 words describing something you encounter in your travels and write a poem weaving these together. The six words I picked were: 1) ~~grotto~~; 2) ~~azulejo~~; 3) ~~laundry~~; 4) ~~phallus-shaped~~; 5) ~~seahorses~~; and 6) ~~sardines~~. √

You can either set your own poetic intentions, or use one of the prompts I’ve listed on this page: writing prompts: poetry. (This page is a work in process). You can also include photos, of course.

Include the link in the comments below by Thursday, February 6 at 1:00 p.m. EST. When I write my post in response to this challenge on Friday, February 7, I’ll include your links in that post.

This will be an ongoing invitation, on the first Friday of each month. Feel free to jump in at any time. 🙂

I hope you’ll join in our community. I look forward to reading your posts!

an array of mosques

wanderessence1025 January 2, 2020

A mosque is a place of worship for Muslims. Mosques typically contain an ornamental niche (mihrab) set into the wall that indicates the direction of Mecca, ablution facilities (where worshipers wash before prayer) and minarets from which calls to prayer are issued. Mosques typically have segregated spaces for men and women. They are often decorated with Islamic calligraphy, verses from the Quran, as well as floral patterns or images of fruit and vegetables. These are allusions to paradise after death. Another symbol is the “cosmic spiral” found in designs and on minarets, a reference to heaven as it has “no beginning and no end.”

In the 15th century, Ottomans introduced central dome mosques, which have a large dome centered over the prayer hall. In addition, smaller domes commonly exist off-center over the prayer hall or throughout the rest of the mosque, where prayer is not performed. This style was heavily influenced by Byzantine architecture.

Here are a collection of mosques from my travels through Spain, Morocco, Oman, Turkey, and UAE.

Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Turkey

Sultan Ahmed Mosque, also known as the Blue Mosque, in Istanbul