Based on my pathetic map, I ought to have been near the royal palace. However nothing in Casablanca’s bustling Mers Sultan quarter, the place trams rumble previous shoe shops and cafes, seemed remotely palatial. I attempted one road, then the subsequent. Lastly, I approached some teenage ladies in denims and head scarves downing Eating regimen Cokes exterior a snack bar.
“I’m on the lookout for the palace,” I mentioned in rudimentary French, and pointed to my map. “It says it needs to be close to right here.”
One of many ladies glanced on the creased sheet of paper, and in a voice laden with teenage contempt, requested, “Don’t you may have a cellphone?”
No, I didn’t have a cellphone. Or moderately, I did, however I wasn’t utilizing it.
Besides for getting my airplane ticket, my plan was to discover Casablanca — a Moroccan metropolis I had by no means visited — with out utilizing the web. That meant no on-line analysis, no GPS, no Ubers or Airbnbs, no digital dictionary and no senseless scrolling to keep away from social awkwardness.
At a time when increasingly more of us are feeling the necessity for a digital detox, I’m keenly conscious of how the web, for all its advantages, has additionally modified journey for the more serious. Not solely does it play a key position in overtourism, nevertheless it has additionally flattened the sense of discovery. By permitting us to peruse restaurant menus, visualize websites and compile must-see lists, the web tells us what we’ll expertise earlier than we arrive.
I might have used a guidebook, however that appeared opposite to the spirit of the endeavor. In spite of everything, my principal aim was to see if I would restore the serendipity of exploring — and study just a few retro journey classes alongside the best way.
Lesson 1: Get a Good Map
After flying into Casablanca’s Mohammed V Airport, my first order of enterprise was to find a map. I approached a lady seated at what I took to be the data desk. “After all I’ve a map,” she replied. “I’ve a cellphone.”
She did, nonetheless, direct me towards the practice to the town heart. After I arrived on the ethereal station, I understood how tough touring unplugged right here may be. There have been no “You’re right here” signposts, no place to stash my baggage whereas I acquired oriented and no clear indications — at the least to not this non-Arabic reader — of which route led to the town heart.
Nonetheless mapless, I picked a route and began strolling. A palm-lined boulevard appeared like a superb wager, and shortly I used to be amid retailers and eating places. Past a gate into what I took to be the outdated medina, I noticed a hand-painted signal: “Ryad 91.”
Lesson 2: Ask to See a Room
I knew from earlier journeys to different Moroccan cities that “ryad” or “riad” means “inn.” Quickly Mohammed, a tall, bespectacled man, was welcoming me within the cushion-bedecked foyer, and didn’t appear offended after I requested to see the only remaining room, a discount at 360 dirhams, or about $37. It was easy and clear, however slightly claustrophobic, with a window that opened onto an inside courtyard. I took the room, deciding I’d search for one thing extra spacious the subsequent day.
Within the meantime, I requested Mohammed for a map. “One minute,” he mentioned, sitting down at his laptop and printing one out from Google. A few dozen streets on it bore names; the remainder was a tangle of traces.
Lesson 3: Embrace Your Ignorance
The benefit of ignorance is that it may well flip all the pieces right into a discovery. And there was loads that fascinated me alongside Casablanca’s winding alleyways: sleek minarets; bakers pulling scorching, flat loaves from open-air ovens; the splash of road artwork, vivid towards the whitewashed partitions that gave Casablanca its identify.
My wanderings started exterior the inn’s door. Preserving the harbor to the fitting, I meandered westward, via the raucous meals market, the place distributors offered fats walnuts from carts, and leafy squares the place males sat at low tables consuming fried-fish sandwiches. Strolling alongside bastions constructed when Portugal dominated the harbor, I noticed an enormous construction. I requested some boys who had been diving into the ocean from a rocky seaside what it was. “C’est la plus grande mosquée du monde” was the reply.
Had I actually simply stumbled throughout the most important mosque on the planet? Alas, my informants weren’t totally dependable. The Hassan II Mosque could have one of many world’s largest minarets, however just isn’t itself the largest. And because the tour buses across the nook proved, it’s Casablanca’s chief attraction.
I might see why the boys exaggerated; with a capability for 25,000 individuals, the mosque is designed to awe, and never solely with its dimension. Each centimeter is roofed in intricate craftsmanship, from plasterwork to mosaics to fretwork. On the accompanying museum, I discovered it had taken 12,000 artisans to finish.
My strolls introduced extra discoveries: downtown streets lined with Artwork Deco buildings; modern Moroccan artwork on the elegant Villa des Arts; the Abderrahman Slaoui museum, with its Berber jewellery and colonial-era journey posters.
Touring with out expectations additionally makes you extra observant of abnormal life. I cherished coming throughout a person in a sq. promoting espresso from a small pot, and the housewares retailer the place frantic girls in djellabas scrambled to get their arms on air fryers that had simply gone on sale, some carting off three or 4.
Casablanca wasn’t preening for vacationers; it was too busy dwelling its personal life.
Lesson 4: Let Go of FOMO
I discovered my second resort on a road of bougainvillea-draped villas. The rooms at the Doge (about 2,200 dirham), as soon as a non-public residence, leaned arduous into their Jazz Age origins, with velvet-lined partitions and at the least one Josephine Baker picture. Staying there, amid the inlaid furnishings and orange-blossom-scented soaps, I attempted not to wonder if there was even a extra beautiful Casablanca resort I hadn’t discovered.
Touring unplugged means letting go of the concern of lacking out. The web can persuade us that its best-of lists are goal truths and that any traveler who doesn’t work her manner via them has settled for much less.
I needed to struggle a twinge on the Central Market, the place dozens of seafood stalls served contemporary oysters and fish tagines. How to decide on? I settled on Nadia’s due to the native businessmen there. Had been the juicy grilled sardines drizzled with pungent chermoula sauce there the most effective out there? They had been the most effective I ate.
The identical held true for the superbly spiced rooster shawarma I sampled within the upscale Racine neighborhood, and the fragile gazelle horn pastries at a bakery within the Gauthier quarter — locations I had chosen as a result of they had been busy with native clients.
However that technique didn’t work in my quest for a sit-down restaurant serving conventional Moroccan meals, since native diners usually select a delicacies totally different from the one they get at residence. So after I walked into Le Cuistot’s tiled eating room, and heard Castilian Spanish, British English and New Jersey accents, I didn’t have excessive hopes.
However my couscous tfaya was fluffy, the greens flavorful, and the caramelized onions and almonds added simply the fitting sweetness and crunch. When Aziz Berrada, the chef and proprietor, instructed me his couscous was the most effective in Casablanca, I believed him.
If that’s the case, it was simply certainly one of his skills. Earlier than Aziz turned a chef, he instructed me, he had been a photographer for Hassan II, the identical monarch who had ordered the development of the imposing mosque. When that monarch died, Aziz determined it was time for a profession change.
Lesson 5: Speak to Folks
My dialog with Aziz — which wouldn’t have occurred if I had been buried in my cellphone whereas eating — made me desirous to see the palace the place he had labored. So on my final day, the receptionist on the Doge printed out yet one more Google map.
That’s after I acquired misplaced. After getting no assist from the soda-drinking youngsters, I wandered for blocks, finally asking instructions from an older man who pointed to crimson flags within the distance: the palace.
Solely it wasn’t open to the general public. Ever, apparently.
The web would have revealed this. But as I grappled with the conclusion that I had spent hours to succeed in these impenetrable partitions, I spied a road lined with bookshops. On the very least, I believed, I would discover a respectable map.
And I did. However the road additionally led to retailers promoting handwoven rugs and copper tea units, a courtyard crammed with barrels of olives and a warren of whitewashed alleys that jogged my memory of Andalusia even earlier than I got here throughout a tiny museum of Andalusian devices.
The Habous neighborhood nearly seemed like a stage set of Morocco, which is becoming, because it was designed by the French within the Twenties and ’30s.
I discovered this from a lady who launched herself as Imane, after I stopped for mint tea on the Imperial Café. She was seated close to me, and seemed to be both a star or the mayor, so frequent had been the salutations from passers-by. I requested if I might speak together with her concerning the neighborhood.
“After all, sweetheart,” she mentioned in excellent English. “I really like People. You’re so spontaneous.”
Lesson 6: Keep Open
Imane steered we transfer our dialog to a close-by location that she promised I’d adore. I overcame my skepticism, figuring I would get some native suggestions.
As we walked, Imane’s rapid-fire monologue left little room to ask about her favourite eating places. However I discovered that she had as soon as lived in the USA, promoting actual property, working for a jewellery firm and driving an Uber.
Lastly we arrived at a set of partitions solely marginally much less imposing than the palace’s. The guard ushered us via a carved door into a stunning constructing, with partitions of inexperienced and blue geometric tiles and complicated plasterwork, and courtyards dotted with orange timber. I nonetheless had no thought the place I used to be (later I discovered it was a former courthouse and residence for the pasha, and is now used for cultural occasions). And I used to be mystified by the employees, together with a stern-faced bureaucrat and a cleansing lady who greeted Imane effusively.
Who was Imane? A politician? A film star?
Lastly, it dawned on me. “Are you an influencer?” I requested.
“I don’t like labels,” she replied.
I by no means did study Imane’s favourite eating places. However she instructed me of her mission to unfold the message that we’re all related. Finally, she pulled out her cellphone to broadcast us, stay, as we chatted.
I had come all this manner with out my cellphone. I had gotten misplaced and located my manner, found monuments and tiny jewels. I had developed a way of the town as a spot that also existed primarily for its residents, not its guests.
And there I used to be on another person’s stay social media feed.
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