By Grayson Real
Written in July of 2019 from Rabat
The first thing I noticed about Rabat as we drove in over a large, moderately-crowded bridge with a view of the Atlantic was city. Vast, off-grey buildings hugged each other, as stores with neon flashing lights occupied the sidewalk. People were everywhere – either walking briskly along busying streets or lounging casually in cafes (which I immediately noticed were more populated with women, especially those sitting in the front). And the street style was an art of its own: a hybrid of simple tradition and foreign novelty (Internet trends). Though djellabas were more common in Fes, Rabat was home to the “Djellabas and Converse” look -- rare amidst a sea of t-shirts, sneakers, jeans, baseball caps, and of course, being the political capital of Morocco, suits and military uniforms. Makeup magnified natural beauty, sunglasses were worn not only as a desirable statement piece but as a necessary sun-protector, and jewelry added the second dimension of fashion creativity…people, both young and old, playing with colors, patterns, traditions, and modernity.
Everything was just bigger. Roads boasted four lanes, and the side streets were twice the size of Fes’s more narrow avenues. Though by the water, Rabat simmered in a faded grey…there wasn’t a picturesque landscape of greenery. Fes also didn’t emblematize the grandeur of nature, but it did sprawl lavishly in the backyards of grass mountains. Here, Rabat offered a unique seaside-city vibe, attracting both foreign and local tourists to its calm, yet crowded beaches. Interestingly enough, the city’s parks exuded serenity, seeming to ignore the city bustle and taxi choir.
But when we first meandered through the streets, I immediately knew I liked Fes better. Or, I was just used to the intimate, perfectly chaotic yet somehow relaxing Fassi city. Or, at the very least, I was now experiencing culture shock, which I found odd seeing as though I had only stayed in Morocco’s traditional hub for a few weeks.
Both cities seem to have mastered the art of elegant disarray, but there was a difference between the two. Fes was indeed busy: kids kicking a soccer ball around, men swarming cafes in the evening, women chatting as they walked, and store keepers opening up their stores in the morning as we headed to school, bartering with locals throughout the day, relaxing in chairs and smoking at the hint of slowing business before packing up in the day’s sunset. But every day, albeit brimming with life, I would see the same people – the same men resting in their souks and sipping espressos while reading the news through puffs of cigar smoke, the same smells of baked pastries emanating from the local riad’s kitchen, the same cats lounging in the sun and others picking fights over food littering the cobblestones…even when I was farther from my home, deep into the Medina, I would recognize people.
I remember one night when I was walking home from a café in Fes, I recognized a young guy walking with his father that I normally would see closer to my home. Yes, he was probably the tallest person in all of Fes, but it still made me smile that for just a few weeks, I was already becoming well-acquainted with the loving community. It was a good busy… Bustling, but not so much as to prevent people from sitting on sidewalk benches and beginning conversation with a perfect stranger.
In Rabat, if there are benches, not many are sitting on them. Cafés are full in the afternoon, but unlike in Fes, those very same cafes become vibrant restaurants into the late night. Not only do warm golden lights keep the city alive, people seem to protrude from their shells of work to convene at various local joints, bars, and lounges. Especially during a bright, sunny day, and thankfully with a slight breeze, kids will play in the street near our house and others will mill about through the pop-up markets selling fruit, chickens, clothing, food… Dogs, not cats, wander around, and birds fly overhead, dotting the cerulean sky. The beach close by makes it a popular destination -- and not just for tourists. In fact, most of the beach goers are locals simply enjoying a quick dip and admiring the soft lap of waves. When we visited the calm waters, I dressed in pants and a shawl, expecting cool winds because it was dusk. Instead, only an occasional breeze whispered through. The waves didn’t crash with intense reverberations; rather, the splashes, spins, running, and playing from those enjoying the rolling tide created the most whitewater.
In writing this reflection, I’ve realized it’s hard to say one is better than the other, or even that I like one over the other. I love the intimacy of Fes and the familial focus; I love the energy that only an ambitious coastal city can harbor. They’re just different…but also somehow similar… I guess that’s the pure inexplicability, and thus wonder, of it all.