el jadida

This past weekend was one of those rare occasions when we did not have a scheduled excursion nor did we have any obligations to stay at home. So, a group of four of us took off Saturday morning for a tiny city about three and a half hours south of Rabat called El Jadida (“The New”).

The city is supposedly well known for its fish dishes and while I myself did not indulge in this regional delicacy, I did accompany my friends to Restaurant Tchikito a place described in the guide book as “an authentic experience.” Likewise, upon arriving at Tchikito the first thing we saw was the kitchen, set up right near the entrance with full fish (head, eyes and tail included) fried in batter and hung in plain view as if to warn “Leave your squeamish stomach at the door.” Luckily, after three weeks in Morocco, particularly after witnessing a chopped off camel’s head in the markets of Fes, squeamishness is not a word my stomach concedes. My friend signaled to the waiter with three fingers and he returned with three plates of fried goods. For myself, I ordered my latest drink of choice, a Fanta Citron, and pulled out the bottle of DanUp vanilla yogurt I had secretly stashed in my purse. While three hungry faces polished off the entire cast of Finding Nemo, I too finished my shake in a matter of minutes. The aftermath of lunchtime: three plates of piled up fish bones and one empty yogurt bottle.

Following lunch we wandered through the older part of the city which was formerly inhabited by the Portuguese. The guide book really only recommended one monument and we just so happened to stumble upon it while walking through one of the smaller markets. The Portuguese Cistern is an underground chamber with a vaulted ceiling that reflects a mirror image onto a thin layer of water that is constantly on the ground. An opening in the center of the room lets in just enough light to make the pillars, arches and reflections perfectly visible. The vault had such a sense of both mystery and architectural history I felt like Indiana Jones uncovering a dreamy archaeological find. I took what must have been hundreds of pictures until my friends insisted we see the rest of the town.

We walked along the beach for that unknown, doesn’t matter period of time that you might associate with beach walking. El Jadida’s cafés warmly greeted us on the right while crashing waves beckoned to us from the left. I opted to keep my dry clothes and turned right. Out on the café’s terrace we sat sipping overly sugary coffees and watching groups of men play soccer on the beach.

After a large pizza dinner, two scoops of gelato, and a few glasses of wine, I polished off the weekend with a long and heavy Sunday sleep.

And that is the story of a simple weekend in El Jadida.