Funky Cold Medina
Trip Start
Feb 04, 2007
1
42
107
Trip End
Mar 09, 2008
Casablanca,
Morocco
Thursday, June 28, 2007
In this type of discussion, Rabat is quickly dismissed and the mention of Casablanca meets with awkward smiles and the advice that "Just a day or two will be fine, yes?"
The advice is spot on. After 5 nights in Marrakech I was reluctant to leave and could still turn around and go back. 24 hours in Casblanca has been nice, but the lure of the train station is now overwhelming.
Our hotel is beautiful, the staff excellent and helpful. Getting off the bus downtown an amicable and toothless old man, possibly fond of a drink or eleven, befriended us
Another excellent chandelier
. He was no threat at 5'2" and 50kgs, but laden with luggage and sticking out with a "Rob Me" sign on one's head is no place for a chat. And a la Marrakech, the locals emerge to assist: first a businessman crosses the street and lectures our vagrant friend to leave us alone. A taxi driver approaches us, speaks English to us to advise us to just keep walking and then escorts us to our hotel, where a third person has the door already open. None of these people had a hand out or an ulterior motive, they just look out for tourists to help out. How can you not be impressed? Having discovered our first Moroccan supermarket (descriptions of which I'll leave to Claudie as I cannot do them justice) we took an evening walk around town. We walked fast and avoided a lot of eye contact once we realised we were possibly not staying in the most salubrious part of town. Too many leaning bodies lacked a full compliment of fingers and toes which has become a key barometer of dodginess. Our choice was a little like picking a hotel because it seemed central, was near transport and was in a traditional local district, then realising that description fits Eveleigh St in Redfern.
A little disappointment set in the next day when it became clear that our home area was a veritable Double Bay compared with other districts we found ourselves in
Brass chandeliers
. Far from the cleaner and smilier land of Marrakech we found a much dirtier and seedier city here. In fairness, its exactly as locals described on the train: get in, take your picture, feel warm about the old movie, then get out. The ancient quarter (medina) compared with other cities is much less attractive, filled with Delhi-esque smells and none of the inviting hospitality and warmth that we found in Marrakech. We truly have travelled from chalk to cheese. Casablanca does have one hugely redeeming and excellent tourist attraction, the Hassan II Mosque. Like other Islamic buildings we have seen, it at first seems only 3 or 4 storeys high as you look at the relative size of arches and windows and their number from top to bottom. As you approach and see people around its base, you realise it is nearer 15 storeys high, and possibly made out of solid money.
We took the guided tour here, figuring we would have great trouble discerning ass from elbow in the absence of a local. Thankfully, Bangkok student cards are accepted without question which made the admission charge bearable. And the guide here was superb beyond all expectations, bringing out the best of a great building.
King Hassan of Morocco commissioned this in 1987 and it was finished 6 years later, and remains the third largest in the world behind two immense structures in Saudi Arabia. It can, and often does, accommodate 25,000 worshippers. Somehow you see all the money and grandeur and are quickly reminded of a Berber HillSong.
They smashed this place up in just 6 years
Five Star Dining
. Surely Muslims must see the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona taking 200 years to build and wonder how on earth the Western world gets anything done at all. Letting us take in the majesty of the single grand atrium, it is sometime before our guide starts to give us the explanation of what is quite a high tech building. No air conditioning, but the roof opens: that's 1,100 tonnes (they say) of marble and cedar that slides across in about 3 minutes. Our guide asks if we have questions, and ponders aloud who will ask "the American questions". Wondering if she is subtly warning off any potentially rude questions through this remark, I am surprised when she asks who can guess what those questions are.
Claude and I won the bag of Smarties here, with the two questions being "So... what did this whole shebang cost?" and the kicker "And who paid for it?"
It cost at least US$800m to build, and possibly 4x that when you factor in the market value of materials that were taken from government owned mines without charge. All that in a country with a GDP in 2006 of US$58bn, and probably half that in 1990 when it was being paid for. So in Australian terms thats our Federal Government reckoning a new church might be nice - would $40bn cover it?
As to who paid for it? The King graciously kicked in a third, not bad given that you get your name on it and the family tree inscribed in gold inside
Hammam
. Another third was paid for out of taxes, the remaining third through donations. I asked the guide if there was any dissent about this scale of money being spent on one grand project when schools and hospitals could use it. To her credit, she was open in saying that many people were against it when the budget was first announced, but everyone very much likes the finished product. And it is easy to forget the bill amid the grandeur of this great building, especially as I won't be in a Moroccan hospital anytime soon. TOUCH WOOD.Astoundingly (or perhaps not once the government's priorities are factored in), on all sides of the mosque is dilapidation and poverty. Rusting corrugated iron and crumbling concrete meet it from each approach and a large dusty expanse of promenade is a crushing juxtaposition against the polish and sheen of the marble structure. In a $3,000,000,000 budget, its amazing they didn't spring a few dollars on turf to complete the scene.
It was interesting to learn that the monarchy here takes its legitimacy from King Hassan being a direct descendant of the Prophet Mohammed's youngest daughter, Fatima. She had two sons, Hassan and Hussein: the Hussein side being the royal family of Jordan. Amid questions over time as to democratic structures and reform it is clear that this type of legitimacy is pretty much impervious to assault, unlike the British monarchy which had few options all those years ago but to acknowledge the legitimacy of a parliament and increasingly inclusive voting structures
Hassan II Mosque On Sea
. That's really it. I can only guess the King was hoping his project would spur a bit of urban renewal in Casblanca. No such luck. It was only late in the day that I remembered the central theme of the movie Casablanca is a deep ambition to flee the city.
Hollywood, is there anything you can't teach us?
* * *
This town bites.
Love & cuddles,
Claudine
