Once Upon a Time in Essaouria, Morocco.

Once Upon a Time in Essaouria, Morocco.

October 2008.

Cover photo courtesy of Klim Levene.

I’m unlikely to ever forget my chaotic arrival in the Moroccan city of Essaouira. The rain started during our bus trip from Marrakesh, coming down harder and harder as the trip progressed. By the time we’d arrived the situation had deteriorated from concerning to full-on crappy.

In fact, it was absolutely belting down, accompanied by a fierce wind. Standing outside the bus station with our luggage, we had no appetite for negotiating the taxi fare, happily jumping into the first one available. We just wanted to reach our guesthouse as quickly (and dry) as possible.

It was a hairy ride. With many of the roads into the city flooded, our driver had to come up with not two but three alternative routes. Still, he did it with grace and even had the good humour to entertain us with an off-key rendition of Singin’ in the Rain. As amusing as he was, I don’t think Gene Kelly’s legacy has anything to worry about.

Eventually, he pulled up in a nondescript road. The rain was positively pissing against the window, thus we couldn’t see anything. “Down there!” urged the driver, stabbing a finger towards a narrow, arched alley. So I paid him and out we jumped, my right leg dropping straight into an ankle-deep puddle. “Ah, bollocks”. 

Halfway down the alley we met a young boy sitting on the edge of a wheelbarrow. Hugely entertained by the sight of us, he laughed and kicked his legs with glee. “Riad Lalla?” he asked, grinning. “Yes!” cried S and up he jumped, leading us further down the alley towards our Essaouria home.

Once Upon a Time in Essaouria.

I was so happy to see that pretty blue door with its stone arch and nameplate. “Please… dear lord… let this place not be a dump” I remember thinking, as we knocked and waited for someone to open up.

I needn’t have been so anxious. The owner, Mr. Rashid, personally apologised on behalf of Mother Nature and quickly set about preparing a pot of mint tea. He then showed us to our room, a warm, cosy, dimly-lit space decorated with local art. Set well away from the road, it was always silent at Riad Lalla and I slept soundly each night. Unfortunately, the place has since closed, its last TripAdvisor review dating back to 2014.

The next morning we awoke to glorious sunshine and an unblemished blue sky. Seriously, it was like the entire events of the previous evening had been nothing but an unpleasant dream. Making quick work of the riad breakfast (fruit, coffee, toast and cheese), we wasted no time in heading out for some exploring.

Occupied since prehistoric times, Essaouria was originally called Mogador. Historians reckon this relates to the local burial of the Muslim saint Sidi Mogdoul in the Middle Ages. In the early 1500s the Portuguese captured western Morocco, after which King Manuel I ordered the construction of a grand fortress, Castelo Real.

Castelo Real of Mogador.

Sadly, nothing remains of the fort, which Sultan Mohammed III demolished in the 18th century as part of his campaign to build a grand new fortress-port city. Indeed it is Mohammed’s legacy that remains very much alive today for visitors to Essaouria. Because it was he who oversaw the construction of a new fortress, which he initially named Souria (the small fortress). Later, it became known as Es-Saouira, which means “the beautifully designed”.

The sultan employed the services of some of the world’s best architects. A French engineer, Theodore Cornut, in collaboration with a group of Italian architects from Genoa, built the citadel.

Today’s remains are small but well-preserved, while the fee to explore was a negligible 10 Dirhams. That’s roughly $1. From what I gather that fee hasn’t increased in the fifteen years since my visit. In any case it’s an unmissable Essaouria experience thanks to its stunning views. In one direction over the port and city….

… in the other across the expanse of water leading out into the North Atlantic Ocean. Legend has it that the great Jimi Hendrix spent some time jamming up on the fort during his visit to Essaouria in 1969. Moreover, the fort and its surrounds have served as a filming location for several episodes of Game of Thrones.

Once Upon a Time in Essaouria.

However, Essaouria’s biggest claim to fame is that Hollywood maestro Orson Welles came here to shoot scenes for his award-winning movie Othello in 1950. The shoot was a famously troubled one, as detailed in the book Put Money in Thy Purse.

Welles ended up coming to Essaouria due to the fact that it was significantly cheaper than Cyprus, where he’d originally planned to shoot. He also described the Moroccan city as “uncontaminated and historically closer to Italy”.

It was cool to see the row of Dutch cannons ordered by the Sultan, which arrived at the fort in 1744. According to several online articles, an engineer by the name of Adrianus Crans made the cannons in The Hague. There is little to no information about Crans, which is disappointing considering he was clearly a great man of his time.

The cannons were made in around 1734, about a decade prior to their arrival in Essaouria. Constructed from bronze, they bear the arms of the Province of Holland.

Another big name on the Sultan’s payroll was the English renegade architect Ahmed el Inglizi. Abandoning Christianity for Islam, Inglizi became a close confidante of Sultan Mohammed, building several parts of the port, including the harbour entrance. 

The Port.

From the fort we made our way down to the sleepy harbour, where it is strange to think that this was once one of Europe’s most strategic trading posts. Keen to get into bed with the major European powers, the sultan cut his deals and transformed Essaouria into Morocco’s primary port. That afternoon it almost felt as if I could see the ghosts of the past with the discoloured, forlorn looking huddle of boats neatly packed together like skeletons.

Closer up at least, I enjoyed an explosion of blue as we approached a huge mass of fishing boats. Beautiful but also a bit sad, as these days little happens here beyond fishing. That’s due to the waters being too shallow for most modern ships. 

Unencumbered by any actual sights to see, we were free to absorb the drowsiness and breathe in the salty air. The blue boats bobbed gently from side to side. A fisherman, recently returned from sea, set down his net and began unloading a haul of giant crabs. 

All the while seagulls squawked overhead, while one I had my eye on eventually swooped down and landed on a wall right in front of me. 

Once Upon a Time in Essaouria.

Shifting on its webbed feet, it focused its beady eyes on a group of local men laying out their daily catch. Vendors tend to set up shop around lunchtime and mainly cater to locals. Indeed they paid us little attention and certainly made no effort whatsoever to reel us in. That’s just the way I like it. 

Consequently, it was easy to observe and photograph from a polite distance. The chatter and smoking between the men. The way they laid out their fish on wooden crates or even directly onto the stone walls. And of course the brief but excitable haggling that went on with their customers.

It was also fun to see the cats of Essaouria squeeze themselves into these scenes. Of course they knew precisely when fish time kicked off at the port. Amusingly, one or two felines managed to steal a fish whenever someone dropped their guard. Though to be fair to the fishermen they often simply gifted a fish to a needy kitty.

I came across a couple of poky restaurants near the fish market. The whole process was delightfully low-key. We just pointed at the fish we wanted, an old man nodded in reply and proceeded to fry it up in front of us. We were the only customers, so the restaurant staff took this as an opportunity to take care of their own lunch, devouring it on the table next to ours.

The Fish Market.

On our second day we explored the Medina. After the delightful souks of Casablanca and Marrakesh, I was starting to get a feel for Moroccan markets. I’d say this one was my favourite, a particularly handsome part of Sultan Mohammed’s grand vision and a UNESCO World Heritage Site to boot.

Inside, it is a whole different world to the fort and the harbour. In fact, it felt as if the whole of the city had come to the medina. There were people striding down the main street in all directions. Ducking in and out of pungent pharmacies, browsing wares at the clothes stalls and drinking tea outside cafes. Following my nose, I found myself drawn to a bartering butcher under one of the stone archways.

Here, there and everywhere, deliveries arrived for the various stalls, stores and mini markets. Crates of apples to a cupboard-sized cafe. A van of overflowing soft drinks to a popular eatery. A bicycle stacked with boxes of freshly baked bread rolls.

I loved watching the medina delivery guys running around the place making their assorted drop-offs. Hired for specific jobs, they scampered from point to point on their bikes, carts and wheelbarrows. If there was a lull, it would be the perfect opportunity to stop for a chat, a smoke, maybe even a quick nap.

Once Upon a Time in Essaouria.

Naturally you can find all manner of Moroccan handicrafts in the medina. But there is an entire side street dedicated to rugs, with store after store running down this narrow alley as far as the eye can see.

Happily, prices are more reasonable than in Marrakesh and I was able to negotiate a fair price for a lovely small rug that caught my eye. For anything grander, you’ll need to have your negotiating hat on. Check out this useful article by Marocmama which gives useful tips on buying a rug in Morocco.

On our final day we spent some time hanging out on Essaouria Beach. Extending out from the harbour south of the city, it’s a wonderfully peaceful spot for a stroll and people-watching. However, it was a touch windy that day, which is pretty much par for the course in Essaouria.

Known across the country as The Windy City, this is Morocco’s premier spot for kite-flying and wind surfing. That day though there wasn’t much happening, just some joggers, couples picnicking and a man playing fetch with his exuberant dog.

Essaouria Beach.

The zenith of the excitement came when I stumbled upon a football match among a group of locals. One of them, a mechanic called Hassan, invited me over to play. I had a blast, the keenly contested match full of whipped crosses, driving shots and thumping tackles. In the end though, the game finished 9-8 in favour of the wind.

It was the last night of our Morocco trip. What an adventure it had been, a cross-country journey that had taken in the capital, Casablanca, the cultural powerhouse of Marrakesh, the Atlas Mountain village of Setti Fatma and the alluring coastal community of Essaouria.

To toast it all, we went for dinner and cocktails at Le Patio, a hip bar-restaurant that served Moroccan fusion dishes on wooden tables bathed in candlelight. There, we met a pair of Australian friends and an English couple. Chatting amongst ourselves, we exchanged life stories and drank into the night, six strangers destined to meet for just one evening. I’m happy to say that Le Patio is still going strong, check here for the latest reviews.

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