Casablanca

Before writing this, I had to rewind my memory to see why I even went to Morocco. Honestly, there wasn’t any clear reason to do so, just because the airfare suddenly dropped below the usual price; but of course it’s an arduous flight. From Saigon to Singapore, I collected my luggage and then did self-transfer to Saudia all the way to Casablanca with a layover in Jeddah; it’s almost 30 hours from the moment I left home till finally settling into my hotel room. Flights to Jeddah tend to share a common feature: most passengers are pilgrims, at certain times they will pray in the designated area at the back of the plane, and as the flight nears the destination, they will change their attires to prepare to head straight to Mecca. You also shouldn’t be surprised at the wetter-than-usual toilets - another characteristic of such pilgrimage flight.

In Singapore a Malaysian lady struck up a conversation with me, she was about to tour around South America alone for a whooping three months - not everyone has the stamina to do so. I also took a stroll around Changi and revisited some familiar favorites from back in the day, such as chicken rice or barley drink, and obviously they’re much more pricey than before.

Casablanca was both the starting and ending point of my Morocco journey. One thing’s for sure: the city’s name itself was part of the inspiration for this trip. It’s a beautiful name, isn’t it? And a familiar song whoever comes to Morocco should put on repeat before they go.

Anyway, I’ve managed to break my record for the longest flight journey taken to step on the furthest west point I’ve ever been.

Streets Stepping Straight out of a Movie

After landing at Mohammed V Airport in Casablanca (everything seems to be named after the king!) and spending quite a while getting through the immigration (compared to travelers from other countries, the officer examined my passport over and over again), once again I carried out my usual routine: exchanging money, buying SIM card and heading to the train station to get to the city center. The airport isn’t very beautiful, and you ought to exchange just a small amount of cash there since the rates are worse than the outside; SIM is quite easy to choose as there’re several competing vendors side by side, I bought one from inwi because their counter’s girls were very pretty - the typical Moroccan beauty you may fall in love with at first sight.

From the airport to the city center, the best option is by train as tickets cost around 40-50 MAD only depending on the class and whether you head to Casa Voyageurs or Casa Port; if your hotel is near the Medina or the main tourist area then Casa Port is the better choice, you can simply walk a few minutes to reach your destination and avoid dealing with the typical taxi drivers haggling over prices in Morocco.

A taxi took me through streets surrounded by white-painted buildings that felt almost European to reach Hôtel Rio - a place far more shabby than advertised. Traveling to different parts of the world has made me realize that even budget hostels in Vietnam can easily outclass hotels like this. The only upside was the location: it’s just a few minutes walk to United Nations Square or the Medina, and there’re several restaurants in the area - but it’s another disappointment in Morocco - most places mainly serve global dishes like sandwiches, kebabs or pasta with few sights of local specialties.

After settling my things, I went out to buy some water - and the first shock came as an elderly woman at a small shop aggressively asked for money. With zero knowledge of their language, we can just ignore it and move on; but it’s oddly fascinating how persistently these beggars keep talking at length even when their listener doesn’t understand a single word.

Now we step into the main part - the streets of Casablanca.

If you listen to the song Casablanca and feel like you’ve wandered into a vintage film from the 20th century, such feeling can be brought to life right here. Rows of low-rise, white-painted buildings, trams weaving through the streets, and above all, the French signages that make everything even more cinéma.

On the last day before coming home, riding on the back of an inDrive bike as the driver sped along the boulevards by the Atlantic sending flocks of pigeons scattering in panic, and sunlight glinting off car roofs - I honestly couldn’t put into words how cinematic, almost game-like the moment felt. Perhaps partly because this city isn’t too congested so motorbikes can weave through easily - but at the same time, it isn’t quiet nor dull.

In short, this city has a very distinct vibe and character. People often say Casablanca isn’t rich in culture for long exploration, but its poetic name and these streets alone are enough to give it a unique charm.

Hassan II Mosque

Sunset by the Waves

I couldn’t help but eagerly head out to Hassan II Mosque, the city’s most famous landmark, to reach the Atlantic Ocean in my very first hours there. That was also my westernmost point I had ever set foot on before Marrakech.

The afternoon sun spread across the ocean’s surface, gentle waves lapping against the seawall, while a hazy mist veiled the distant silhouette of El Hank Lighthouse.

All the exhaustion from the long flight seemed to disappear. The weather was stunning, and the scenery was artful. There’s no sense of rush, none of the noisy, chaotic hustling you often find in famous travel spots. The stranger from Asia was simply able to enjoy entirely this atmosphere.

Golden dusk light spread over the silhouettes of people strolling or relaxing by the shore, and the stranger felt really comfortable while easily mingling with the locals at that time.

I was also fortunate that my arrival in Morocco coincided with the full moon, and the moment when the perfectly round moon hovered beside the minaret felt surreally magnificent - made even more romantic by the cool sea breeze at the end of the year.

Mesmerizing Architecture

On my last day in Morocco, I walked along the coast and returned to mosque once more, yet this time I decided to enter its vast grounds to appreciate the beauty, and as expected it didn’t disappoint. Even getting in was purely incidental, after I had been staying there long enough to see the gates open to welcome visitors at prayer time.

The vast square only adds to the mosque’s grandeur.

As you step inside and look up, you can’t help but marvel at the meticulous detail of such a monumental structure: the arches, the carvings, the intricate patterns on the walls - all handcrafted. The whole glowing mosque seems glided in gold beneath the deep blue twilight sky.

Even something as simple as watching the locals slip off their shoes and eagerly stream in for prayer was an experience in itself!

After all, I trudged back to the hotel alone as dusk fell, and the driver gave me a glimpse of the city at night full of liveliness passing by before my eyes.

The Center

On my last day in Morocco, I stayed at Cadé Hotel - a slightly better choice, just a little improvement was enough, although comfort was still hard to achieve with a bed taking up nearly the entire room, leaving only a tiny space for a table and luggage, whereas the door lock required full force to turn, causing a terrifying creak each time. Right next to the hotel was a Moroccan baguette stall, serving French-style baguettes similar to Vietnam’s, but nothing too special - filled with kebabs and fries.

Still the hotel was only a few blocks from the famous sites, and the feeling of riding behind the driver along Hassan II or Rachidi Boulevard was so awesome that I could see all the distinctive architectures lining up one after another, under a day of scattered clouds and soft sunlight.

Sacred Heart Cathedral

The first one is Sacred Heart Cathedral (Église du Sacré-Cœur) - more precisely, this place used to be a church until Morocco gained independence in 1956, afterwards it’s transformed into a cultural center open to everyone.

Many exhibitions and concerts have taken place here; inside you won’t see rows of pews, crosses, or statues of Christ - instead there’s a profoundly deep space, with stained-glass windows above that sparkle like stars.

Arab League Park

A short walk brings you to the greenery of Arab League Park (Parc de la Ligue arabe) with straight rows of palm trees and interwoven weeping fig canopies. Locals have a peaceful retreat here, and the visitor gets some more great photo opportunities.

Mohammed V Square

One of the spots that made me turn back for a second look was the Court (Palais de Justice) with its signature green decorative stripe on white walls, it front of it sits Mohammed V Square swarmed by an unbelievable number of pigeons. Similar pigeon-filled places I’d been to was Gandantegchinlen Monastery or in Yangon.

Standing among the pigeons and waiting for them to take flight all at once is fun - but not so much when one poops on your head and you have to rush to the nearest restroom. Luckily I ran into a friendly cleaning lady who pointed me to the sink, even though neither of us understood each other.

And I bid farewell to Morocco on a beautiful morning in Casablanca, arriving at Casa Voyageurs Station just as the train was about to depart. The train was packed without available seats, and near the airport it crawled along for about ten minutes. Saudia added its own hassle during check-in, and I was arranged to the very last row next to a fat passenger who kept putting feet on his tray table - bringing an end to a not-very-gentle journey.