A Final Day in Essaouira

Day 21 - Jay and I treated our final day in this coastal city with the respect it deserved. For fifty-one weeks of the year, Essaouira is a quiet place that prioritizes a bohemian arts scene over the relentless hustle of a city like Marrakech.  I have to admit a certain fondness for the city's old colonial moniker, Mogador. It sounds exactly like a gritty, sun-blasted fortress straight out of Game of Thrones. As it turns out, HBO's location scouts entirely agreed; Essaouira's dramatic sea walls and ramparts were heavily utilized in Season 3 to stand in for the fictional slaver city of Astapor.

 

In reality, that imposing name is essentially a two-thousand-year game of colonial telephone. The Phoenicians called their tiny trading post migdol, meaning small fortress. Centuries later, Portuguese colonizers arrived, completely butchered the name of a local saint, Sidi Mogdoul, and slapped "Mogador" on the map. The city finally shed the typo in the 1760s when a Moroccan Sultan hired a French architect to construct a perfectly gridded seaport from scratch. Thrilled with the precise geometry, he officially renamed it Essaouira: classical Arabic for "the well-designed."

Jay and I eventually made our way out to the main beach. This stretch of sand borders the immediate coastline for a solid two kilometers before stretching up to ten kilometers further down the bay. It was genuinely pleasant to navigate the flat, easily walkable grid of the medina. Both of us discovered new alleyways lined with the usual array of tourist businesses, including argan oil boutiques, local art galleries, ceramic shops, and tiny cafes. After getting our fill of the sea breeze, we walked back toward the center of town and grabbed a satisfying lunch for two that managed to come in under 100 MAD, or roughly 13.50 CAD.

 

Tomorrow, we will board a CTM bus bound for Agadir. That destination will provide a stark contrast in Atlantic coastal living. Essaouira is defined by its ancient stone ramparts and an artsy atmosphere fueled by constant trade winds; Agadir is an entirely different product. Following a devastating earthquake in 1960, Agadir was completely rebuilt. The pair of us will trade these historic stone alleys for wide boulevards, concrete hotels, and a calm, wind-protected beach engineered primarily for package holidays and sunbathing.

 

Our departure tomorrow is perfectly timed. Next weekend, Essaouira will host the 27th annual Gnaoua and World Music Festival. For three days, the city transforms into a capital of musical fusion, drawing roughly half a million visitors to experience traditional, trance-inducing Moroccan heritage music. The typically quiet medina alleys and empty beaches we just enjoyed will be entirely consumed by open-air stages, large sound systems, and immense crowds. Neither of us has any desire to navigate that level of congestion. Slipping out to the calmer shores of Agadir a full week before the chaos begins feels like a brilliant move.

Another Day in Essaouira

​Day 20 - Jay and I took our breakfast upstairs at the hotel right at nine o'clock. The morning began looking rather grey. The ocean seemed to lack its usual enthusiasm, with the waves barely slapping the edge of the seawall. In all weather, I genuinely appreciate the morning meals here; they provide a perfectly civilized start to the day.

​As the morning progressed, the sky returned to its usual brilliant blue.  Our immediate priority after breakfast was hunting down the CTM bus station to secure our Thursday departure to Agadir, which will also serve as our final checkout day from Riad Mimouna. Neither of us likes to leave transit logistics to chance. Google Maps suggested it would be a brisk thirty-minute walk out of the medina and past the city hospital. Naturally, the algorithm wildly overestimated our pace, assuming everyone marches with unrealistic haste and never pauses for physical reality. It took us closer to forty-five minutes to cover the distance, but once we arrived, we instantly secured both tickets for a total of 220 MAD (29.70 CAD).

​Rather than trudge back through the unremarkable sprawl of the city, Jay and I flagged down a typical Moroccan petit taxi. They are painted red here. The driver asked for a mere 10 MAD (roughly 1.35 CAD) to deliver us straight to the gates of Bab Doukkala.

​From the gate, the two of us walked back through the Mellah, the city's historic Jewish quarter. It is a fascinating stretch of the medina, though undeniably melancholic. At its peak in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the Jewish community actually constituted nearly half of Essaouira's population. However, following Moroccan independence and the geopolitical shifts of the 1950s and 60s, the area experienced a massive demographic collapse. Working-class families predominantly emigrated to Israel, while the wealthier merchant class largely relocated to France and Canada. Today, the original residents are essentially gone, leaving only architectural echoes and a few preserved sites behind.

​With our transit tickets officially secured, we were free to lock down our accommodations for the remainder of this journey. That endeavor kept both of us and the Expedia servers rather busy for a few minutes. From this point forward, the heavy lifting is over; we are simply connecting the dots on the map until our flight home on June 24th.

​We enjoyed a rather fine lunch tucked away in an undiscovered lane within the medina. Jay and I ordered the turkey skewers, which arrived flanked by French fries, assorted salads, and a blisteringly good hot tomato, rice, and pepper mixture straight from the grill. Washed down with a 1.5-litre bottle of water, the entire affair set us back a mere 70 MAD (roughly 9.45 CAD). It was an absolute steal, especially given the impeccably clean and pleasant setting.

​After a highly necessary afternoon nap, we are presently gearing up for our evening plans. The agenda includes securing dinner, logging some additional miles on foot, and watching the sun drop into the Atlantic. For the record, it is officially scheduled to vanish at exactly 20:45 tonight. All things considered, it has been a rather pleasant, slow-burn of a day.

A Day in Essaouira

 

Day 19 - Our day did not begin with any particular urgency. We simply slept in. At a highly civilized 9:00 AM, we hiked upstairs for a spectacular buffet breakfast that boasted arguably the best coastal view in town. A thick pane of glass was all that separated our refined pastries from the relentless wind whipping off the Atlantic. Finally, we found a place that absolutely nailed every single Moroccan breakfast specialty. They did it with pure class.

Suitably fortified, we hit the streets to properly map the medina. We found the central mosque and walked straight toward the sea. Naturally, this deposited us right at the Supra Tours bus station where we had arrived yesterday. Then, reality hit. We discovered they do not run buses to Agadir. That southern coastal city has always been part of our grand master plan. Realizing our go-to bus company just abandons its passengers on the coast meant we had to pivot quickly.

We briefly considered a day trip. Basic math crushed that dream instantly. It is a three-hour drive there. It is another three hours back. Six hours staring at highway tarmac is not a vacation. We asked the hotel about a private driver, but the price tag was absurd. Plus, the sheer exhaustion made it a terrible idea. The day trip concept was axed without a second thought.

Instead, we sat down and ironed out the exact timeline for the rest of our Moroccan adventure. We are staying put. After tonight, we will hold our ground here in the medina for two more days. Our hotel is pressed right up against the historic sea wall, known as the Skala de la Ville. Back in the 18th century, a sultan hired a French military architect to build these massive stone ramparts to fend off sea invasions. Today, they are lined with vintage European brass cannons still stubbornly pointing at the ocean. It makes for a brilliantly dramatic home base.

Once we finally break camp, we will slide down the coast to Agadir for a three-night traditional beach holiday. The grand finale journey back to Casablanca will require a one-night transit stop in Marrakech. From there, we will catch the high-speed rail connection and position ourselves in our departure city for the final nights of the 22nd and 23rd. The logistical puzzle is officially solved.

Marrakech to Essaouira

 

 

Day 18 - Our three-hour westward journey from the inland heat of Marrakech to breezy Essaouira began today with us arriving at the Supra Tours bus station a full hour early. We left on the dot and first left the dusty plains. Once aboard, the transit toward the coast featured a highly accelerated lunch break. We had a mere twenty minutes to process some rest-stop poultry sandwiches, requiring us to chew with intent while keeping a paranoid eye on the driver to ensure we weren't left behind. 

Back on the road, we documented the undisputed global headquarters of the argan tree. Argania spinosa is endemic to this specific coastal strip. The orchards are a defining feature of the landscape. Alongside the argan, we reflected on the sheer ubiquity of Moroccan olives. They are an absolute cultural staple here. They are served reliably at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with a dizzying variety of types for sale in every market we pass.

 

Upon arriving in Essaouira, we opted for a tactical luggage deployment. We dragged the bags ourselves along the length of the inner Medina walls. It was a fair distance, but not tiring. We welcomed the cooler breeze and the noticeable jump in humidity before arriving at our accommodation: a grand, fading old Riad situated exactly where the old Medina ends and the Atlantic Ocean begins.

After checking in to Riad Mimouna at a highly efficient quarter to four, we went out for a walk along the sea wall. We eventually ended up at the port. Here, we observed the local catch being aggressively hawked from makeshift shanty stalls, rather than fresh off the boats. Jay likes fish and admired the oceanic bounty. I, on the other hand, merely tolerated the pungent reality of the maritime spectacle.

We headed to the Essaouira equivalent of New West's Sixth and Sixth. We found a spot right beside the Souk Mosque. High-turnover places where the locals eat are our absolute go-to when travelling. They effectively minimize gastro-risk. Jay had the skewered chicken, and I went with a mixed shawarma. To walk off the high-velocity street meat, we navigated the main cross street all the way up to the Bab Doukkala gate before finally retreating to the hotel.

 

We are capping off the day sitting in a glass-enclosed room on the hotel roof, looking north along the coast. I deliberately wore a short-sleeved t-shirt to dinner out of pure bravado. Now, I am stubbornly ignoring the goosebumps. We kept an eye out for the sunset. However, in a classic coastal anticlimax, the sun dropped into some faraway clouds well before it ever reached the ocean.