Saturday, November 14 ~ Rabat Remembered

This is our last full day in Morocco.  We have seen so much and yet there is so much more to explore!  Maybe next time.

This morning after a leisurely hotel breakfast, we set out to tour this vibrant capital city.  When we passed the Museum of Contemporary Art, Kahlid suggested that it might be a nice place to spend the free afternoon that we would be having.

The dense fog we awoke to was not yet dissipated by the time we reached the grounds of the Royal Palace.  I did like that there were a lot of twisty trees that seemed eerie in the mist.

The palace was heavily guarded by two of each of the military and police services.

But they seemed a little more casual than what we would see in the States or England.

There was a great deal of coming and going at this nine o’clock hour.  Men did not use Bab but a little door to the right.  Apparently these were routine visitors as no one was paid any attention to them.

It also caught my attention that the men carried nylon briefcases in this, the home of fine Moroccan leathers!

 Kahlid explained the Moroccan system of government that includes two houses of representatives and a King who is an absolute Monarch.  The congress agrees to laws which are subject to the King’s approval.  He doesn’t need to veto them or get in big discussions about what happens.  He either makes it a law or doesn’t.  The elected representatives are strictly advisory.

The Royal Palace grounds include a building for the wives and children.  Also a University which is attended by the royal offspring and selected students from around the world.  The chilly fog did not enhance the appearance of what are quite beautiful buildings and grounds.

We continued on our search of the history of Rabat.  Exiting the palace grounds through one more Bab, this one having only a low wall, we made our way across town to the Chellah Necropolis.

We turned onto the Mohammed VI main street.  Every city has the main streets of Mohammed V and Mohammed VI.  Much like our cities have a JFK highway or a Martin Luther King Road.  The difference is that VI is the current and relatively young King.  He has an attractive and happy family.  He met his wife when he was making a graduation speech and awarding the diplomas.  Salma Bennani caught his attention when he presented her engineering degree.  He invited her out and the rest, as they say, is history.  They married in 2001 and have two children.  Their 12 year old son is the Crown Prince, and the 7 year old daughter has the title of Lalla, which is lady.

 We went on to the Chellah Necropolis. 

 

 

Members of the Merinid royalty are buried here.  This mausoleum is the resting place of the wife of the first of the Merinid Caliph, Abou Yacoub Youssef.  She was buried here, inside the Chellah or fort and right outside of the Kasbah, in 1284. 

Family members are buried nearby and the servants are also buried here.  Their tombs are plainer.

You can see clearly how Kasbah exteriors are a series of walls.

 

 

Some rooms were smaller, some longer or wider, but all had ‘high ceilings’ judging by these archways!

 

The bathroom.

 

 

Storks have taken over the site, nesting on every possible open wall and tower.

 

They nested on the minarets, ruin walls, and in the trees.  It is rare to see one in flight however.

Poor Elva!   She was asked to pose so many times.  I like to think it gives perspective to the picture as far as height and depth!

We continued on our way.

Just as every city has a specific color for taxis, they also have identifiable boats.  It is a matter of great pride for fishermen to brag on their home ports.  Here the boats are blue, like in Essouria but have the added colors of stripes.

 

Across the river is the sister city of Sale’ Colonia. Once a Roman outpost the city has become a suburb easily reached by the tram that crosses the bridge.  Trams run every few minutes during working and commute hours.

As the walls appear before us we know this can only be the Oudaia Kasbah.  The gate, Bab Oudaia, is the entrance through an Almohad wall.  There was here an original Signal Station built in the 18^th century as the Kasbah clings cliff side at the estuary.  Because of the ongoing spelling issue in Morocco, this is also known as the Kasbah Udayas.  I think the nomenclature problems come because of the fact of both Spanish rule and the French protectorate in past centuries.  More importantly it is due errors in the translation from Arabic over the years of the varying dynasties.

Once inside we were reminded instantly of Santorini, the Greek isle.  The blue and white is so iconic for that place that to see it replicated here quickly identifies this city’s connection with the sea.

I love to take pictures of doors and windows.  Every door here has the Hand of Fatima on it and other symbols of good luck, or to ward off evil. This first one was an exception, which indicates the owners are Christian.  Many French ex-pats live in Morocco and are welcomed with open arms.  Some are noted to expect French style living when they have chosen the romantic setting of a medina and do not hesitate to expect full and immediate clearance for their cars.  As you know, most of the medina streets can barely accommodate foot traffic, so I am sure this can be a real problem.

 

 

 

 

Love this elderly man chauffing. Not much to see here but passing tourists.  He seemed content.


Did you notice that even his walker is that lovely blue?

                                                     

It just seemed sweet and peaceful here.

From within these pleasant surroundings we reached the entrance to the gardens of the Musee des Oudaia, which is in a small 17^th century palace.  Built by Moulay Ismail it has undergone multiple renovations under the protectorate and as early as 1915 became a museum.  While Kahlil regaled us with more history, my mind, now a little distracted due to the setting in of a serious cold that has robbed both Elva and I of sleep, wandered.  So did I.  I found the garden an interesting and refreshing break.

 

When we left we drove along the seaside.

We continued on to the Hassan Tower, which is under renovation, and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V.  It is he who is credited with achieving independence for Morocco. Built under supervision of the Vietnamese architect, Vo Toan, it took 400 craftsmen to complete the Italian, white marble building perched on a platform nearly two stories high.  I made a note of the architect since my next trip is to Viet Nam and I expect to see more of his work, perhaps.

At first glance the edifice may remind you of the Taj Mahal.  The coloring, symmetry, and intricate carving give that impression.  But, of course, the size, scale, and setting are nowhere nearly as impressive.

What I noticed first as we pulled up to park, was that we had circled back toward the hotel.  The vendors here were the same ones that accosted us when leaving this morning.  They are so smart and surely know the tour routes in every location.  They didn’t stop us on the way in, they knew we would return with a little more time to look at their wares.

 

 

The next thing was equally of interest to me.  This site, like all of the important sites of Morocco has a wall. 

The pillars of the old mosque stand between the tomb and the Hassan tower.

The tower is the unfinished minaret of the Hassan Mosque.  The mosque, 600 feet by 456 feet, was out of proportion to the population of Rabat at the time it was built more than 800 years ago but is a fitting symbol of the current status as capital of Morocco. The incomplete tower is 52 feet wide and reached only 144 feet high before work on it was stopped.  Had it reached its completion height it would have been 262 feet high.  Still its square bulk seems massive.

The mausoleum itself features stained glass windows, a marble frieze with calligraphy of a hymn of praise, polychrome zeliij, and horseshoe – arched doorways on all four sides with slender Carrara columns.  Pierced and engraved brass candelabra highlight the stairways.  Each doorway has a ceremonial guard.  I was taking pictures all around but one guard saw I had snapped him when he was not at his post, and asked me to delete the photo.  I showed him the picture as I deleted it but I had others.

Caught on camera off to the side above, the guard then happily posed in the photo below. They are, after all, ceremonial and really there to provide a touristy moment.

 

 

The entrance to the building brings you to a catwalk balcony above the sarcophagus.

The ceiling is gilded mahogany with stained glass set in the dome.

 

As we have seen everywhere, one flag is never enough.  These Moroccan flags are also embellished with embroidered symbols of the dynasty.  The intricate zeliij is always fascinating.

At the Taj Mahal, the King' sarcophagus is to one side of the Queen's thereby breaking the symmetry. Here, the tomb of Mohammed V’s wife is to one side of his, in a similar manner.

 

An Imam prays quietly at all times.

It is a beautiful and fitting tribute to a man of power and peace.

We left the imposing calm and returned to our bus and the stalwart vendors  that were waiting for us.

A funny thing happened when most of us were on the bus and waiting for some who were using the restroom.  On the way back to the bus they stopped with the two vendors who had stalked us from the hotel.  They needed to buy a few more belts and scarves and necklaces.  This snowballed into cries from the back of the bus to have them wait.  Ladies hurriedly exited the bus, over Kahlid's mild protest, because they also discovered that they did not have quite enough to take home. Leather belts were $3 and beautifully embossed or had intricate hole punching. Finally, Kahlid gathered the straying flock and we reentered the Saturday chaos of traffic and “souking”.

 

Back at the hotel we checked the posted daily schedule to confirm the time for our Farewell Dinner.  

 

Since Elva and I had repacked yesterday, we decided to enjoy our free afternoon with a leisurely stroll through the nearby streets. We knew we would be spending much of tomorrow sitting down. Our first stop was at an ATM so that Elva could rescue me with additional dirhams to use for tips as I was out of American money to exchange at the hotel desk.  When that was all organized we went a few blocks to the traffic circle and tram stop where we found a Christian Church.

Kahlid had suggested this route as he thought there was a small park and a bench there to spend some time.  There really wasn’t.  But it was more peaceful than joining the ladies who hired a private guide to take them back to souks.  They are definitely not places that you can wander on your own.  It isn’t that they are not safe but you might never been seen again if you get turned around in the maze of alleyways and dead ends. The guide could also lead them to find specific things they still ‘needed.’

 

 The church was built in 1921 and was very simple with a try to be cathedralesque.

 

Pretty stairs led to the choir loft.

 

 



 





We met in the hotel dining room and were seated with Judy and Shelia.  Toasts to each other, Kahlid, the journey, and future travels began the evening.

I have never tried ceviche but this beef was really quite delicious.

Elva got special attention from one of our favorite waiters!

Elva got some special attention served along with her squash soup!

After our dinner it was time for the “family photo.” Such a nice, and diverse group of people with whom to travel.  We were from Columbia, California, South Carolina, New York and, of course, Atlanta and Marrakesh!

We returned to the fourth floor and our comfortable beds.  The morning would have an early start.