Arrival in El Jadida

This is my 998th post here! For a time I haven't been posting on daily basis. Does it matter?

Anyway, not that there is nothing to write about these days, quite contrary. However, I'll go back to the last spring in Morocco and share a good few pictures from the first evening in El Jadida, on the Atlantic coast.  The coach from Essauira dropped us off at the station when the day was coming to an end. We gave up trying to get to the hotel we'd booked on foot. Only on the map it looked straightforward, not so much in the dark, in the busy traffic and with luggage. Conveniently, a taxi materialised itself and took us to safety. The place looked as we expected. Refreshed and with the directions from the receptionist, we walked out for an evening stroll in search of the souk and the Portuguese fortress.

Like in other traditional Arab hotels, the guest rooms are upstairs:

 Downstairs, there is a central courtyard, usually with a fountain in the middle and tables around it. That's where we were served breakfast.

A street leading towards the Portuguese town gate:

(The Portuguese did not stay there very long, but they left some solid structures behind and gave the fortified city a name: Mazagan.)

Lots of street food was on offere wherever you looked.

Some smells were more tempting than others.

The raw products:

And some cooked, would you like to taste it?;-)

 Inside a small bar I photographed some pictures including old photographs of the town. There we had some fresh local fish prepared as we were waiting at the table outside chatting, or rather listening, to a local man, a retired sailor who had lots of stories to tell...

 The underground cistern in the fortress looked mysterious. We visited it the next day. It felt like being in Istanbul, but that's a different tale...

Simple but effective kitchen:

This is the time for socialising!

The salad and bread were served first:

 It was a lot of fish so we actually shared it with a Moroccan beggar widow who approached us. She had to lift the facial cover every time she placed the food in her mouth. What a carry-on!

 Sitting there we could watch the world go by, including this young lad who, as our well informed companion told us, was one of many local people who 'profusely indulge in prompting their sense of smell'...

 That friendly and cheerful guy sold us freshly pressed sugar cane juice. Deliciously refreshing! (The plastic bag came free...)

 Hunger and thirst satisfied, we were ready to  cross the Portuguese walls of hewn stone...

Yes, it is a church, not a mosque! The whole walled town made it to a UNESCO list in 2004.

Contemporary graffiti... Local Bansky practising?;-)

The entrance to the Portuguese Cystern was to see us after breakfast:

 
We left the Portuguese walls behind and bravely sought a different route back to the hotel. However, it turned out difficult so we went back the route we came stopping for a lovely Moroccan tea at a small cafe. It was served by a young boy of ten if not younger. He was helping his father while most of European children were fast asleep.  How keen he was to practise the little English he had learnt at school so far. I wish more of my students had his enthusiasm...

It was a great evening!