Last Day in Casablanca: The religious, shoreline, and taxi dynamics of a historic city.
- ipollett0
- May 19
- 3 min read
One of my favorite things on this Earth is a hotel breakfast. I woke up on a peaceful Sunday morning to a gentle sunshine, a crisp, Atlantic breeze, warm croissants, and a French espresso machine waiting for me in the lobby of the Odyssee boutique hotel.
After taking just a bit too long to get ready and doing another once-over of the conveniently provided Darija survival guide in my suite, a couple friends and I decided to go check out Mass across the city at Notre-Dame de Lourdes, which we had been introduced to the day before.
However, the problem was that Mass started at 9, and it was already 8:30 by the time I finished my second espresso. At that point, the only way we could possibly make it on time was by taking a cab, which has proven to be a thrilling experience for us Americans used to the over-convenience of Uber and the Silver Loop. After unsuccessfully trying to hail a couple taxis, and some fierce negotiation and technological mishaps, we decided to abandon the church plan for now.
Since we were already out and about, we spotted a nearby bakery that was conveniently open early, and more importantly, a beautifully decorated cake, adorned with tree nuts, chocolate swirls, and a decadent red fondant that was unlike anything I've seen in a Jewel-Osco glass case. It just so happened to be our guide, Oussama’s birthday the next day, so we planned a surprise for later.
Our formal activity for the day was a trip to the mall, reportedly the largest in all of Africa. Once I got there, I absolutely saw what they meant. We were greeted by fountains, immaculately maintained greenery, a massive glass dome, and a huge, central fish tank with sharks and coral reefs. Naturally, we all headed for the fish tank first, passing up the designer stores and French copies of H&M for a photo with the big whale shark we had seen swimming around.
After about an hour or so of window shopping at the mall, we headed back to a Moroccan style restaurant for a delicious lunch of tajine, olives, small plates, and a seafood main course. I had developed quite the affinity for the mint tea served with the meal, sometimes called the “Moroccan Whiskey”. After about 4 or so courses and about 3 or so pots of tea, we had the rest of the day free, so we finally had a moment to head to the beach.
We changed quickly and had a successful taxi ride to the beach, until I realized I had put the wrong location on the map. We shrugged it off and decided to enjoy a brisk, 20-minute stroll up the street to the actual beach. Once there, we were greeted by a lively scene, with camels, horses, and hundreds of beachgoers. By the time we got there, it was already late, so we only stayed for a few hours.
After meeting up with the rest of the group, we had one of the best taxi rides of the trip on the way back to the hotel. Our driver had perhaps the most insane aura I had seen in a while, with a fur-covered dashboard, subwoofers in the back, and music videos of his favorite artists playing off the Bluetooth. After making it back, we decided to call it an evening, ending with a chill game night, and gathering the group to sing happy birthday to Oussama.
Until next time,
Indian P.
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