El-Jadida: Back on Our Feet

Astoundingly, we both managed to walk outside the front door of La Villa today to see a bit of El-Jadida. Our stomachs are still a bit restless, my shoulder still sore and Carol is still blowing her nose, but we are feeling much better, finally.

After another great breakfast, served by Patrice, the third owner of the hotel (I think), we waited for a bit then emerged from the hotel and walked up the road to La Cité Portugaise, the old walled fortress built by the Portuguese in 1506. It’s a very small, atmospheric suburb of buildings on the Atlantic coast enclosed by crumbling ramparts. A short walk up a shop-lined avenue took us to a ramp that led up to the walls and a view over the choppy grey waves and the still, smelly waters of the safe harbour below. Apparently the Cité was once surrounded by water (the harbour on the seaward side and a moat on the landward side) but the moat is long gone.

We walked up and down the ramparts looking out at the views. Not much restoration has been done and certain areas have been used as toilets – so much so we began singing a song we made up called The City of Human Poo – but it was still an atmospheric spot and it was easy to imagine the 16th century ships gathered in the harbour below the walls. Old rusty cannons on collapsed metal and wooden frames still pointed at the sea.

Descending from the walls, we paid 10 Dh to enter the La Citerne Portugaise, an incredibly atmospheric old cistern with vaulted ceilings and a thin layer of glass-like water on the floor which reflected them. A single bright spotlight of light beamed down from a circular hole in the roof. It was a magical place, and we thankfully had the place to ourselves, free of tourist groups.

Not only were we excited to actually be out and about again, but I was feeling a satisfying sense of symmetry, as I had chosen a picture of the Citerne for my blog post on leaving for Morocco, without even knowing what it was. And here I was, standing in that very spot. It was used in Orson Welles’ 1954 filming of Othello, and it really does have a feel of a film or stage set – symmetrical, full of pending drama as if the actors are just about to step into it and begin the play. 

We left the Cité and strolled up the main road a bit until we began to feel tired – it was hot – then headed back to La Villa, buying headache pills, toothpaste, water, and chips on the way. A short adventure, but a good one.

The afternoon was spent reading, drinking mint tea, and organising the next few days. After much discussion and research we decided to book a riad in Marrakesh for three days. The jury is still out on whether we book a car and go across the Atlas Mountains. It’s been very difficult to decide what to do, and it may be that we will have had enough of Morocco after a few days in Marrakesh, or we may take a day or two tour out of the city. We’ll see.

Right now we are really looking forward to a proper meal and – miracle of miracles – some wine!

Dinner was probably the best couscous we’ve had in Morocco, though it must be admitted we’re both heartily sick of couscous – an overrated dish at the best of times in my opinion, though usually better here than at home. We did have three-quarters of a bottle of wine, though both of us are still not in top form.

Still, at last, close to a proper meal and a normal evening at La Villa. Hachim attended us and we got a photo of the three of us together. Settled the bill (a bit over 6,000 Dh, about $180 a day, but that includes food, drinks, and my massage).