Essaouria

“This must be the place where they empty all the old hourglasses.”
-Turkey Jackson, "Road to Morocco."

I was expecting a bit more in the way of sand as my colleague and I drove the winding highway to Essaouria. But instead we passed olive groves, green fields, and orange and yellow wildflowers. In fact, the only sand I saw that day was on the beach at Essaouria, a romantic beach town on the Atlantic shore. The package tourists tend to bypass Essaouria due to the rough ocean currents, which make swimming hazardous. (Three cheers for the currents, which send spectacular 15 and 20 foot waves crashing together AND keep out packaged tours!)

Essaouria is a charming town of blue doors, rugged battlements, and arched gates. At night, the town’s crooked streets are lit by tin lanterns punched with geometric shapes and lined with colored glass that cast fantastic shadows upon the white-washed walls. The souk is a relaxing change from Marrakech, with lower prices, less hassle, and minimal bargaining. If no deal is made -- no harm, no foul. It’s a far cry from Marrakech, where vendors get angry if you can’t or won’t meet their price.

Settled by Phoenicians, Romans, Portuguese, and finally Moroccans, most of what stands today in Essaouria was designed in the 18th century by a Frenchman hired by Sultan Sidi Mohammad bin Abdallah. This could explain Essaouria’s romance-saturated atmosphere. Or perhaps it was just because I was there on Valentines Day, and our hotel had decorated the dinner tables with heart shaped candle sconces and red roses.

As much as I enjoyed strolling its windy ramparts, Essaouria is a smallish place, and after an afternoon I felt we’d thoroughly explored the walled town. The next morning, we would return to Marrakech.