A Trip to Safi

Safi, Maroc: Wanting to get an early start so as to have nice lighting for this coastal drive, I was awake and ready to go by dawn. The tide was in, on this prettiest of lagoons, and, once I had driven up the hill a bit, the crescent wave patterns became obvious as the water screamed through the narrow passages. Hthe, hthe, hthe, as Dr. Sperry would express if here to see it.

Instead of spending the entire length of high tide on this hill, watching the enchantingly symmetrical patterns of wave interference, as my former advisor-professor would encourage, and have done, I started a very slow drive along the gorgeous coast.

The road south from El-jadida straddles a broad ridge, sodden green, which drops gently east to mist filled valleys and the purple High Atlas far beyond, and dramatically west to the long sandy beach of the Atlantic with it's deafening surf and, seemingly, endless tubes.

As I drove along, I found myself entranced by the scene, and caught myself involuntarily slowing to a near stop on numerous occasions. Even at that, very few cars passed me (although one horse and buggy managed to) on this lonely stretch of road above an even lonelier stretch of sand. Numerous stops to listen to the pounding waves hundreds of feet below, were inevitable, and occasionally I would see a squatting man, lost in his thoughts, solemnly gazing out to sea.

About 35 clicks south of Oualidia a small road winds its way down from the ridge to where the beach is transformed into Cap Beddouza. Even at the cape, the sandy beach exists, but there are certainly more rock outcroppings for the surf to engage.

At the high point of the cape is an ancient walled fort protecting a disused light house, in addition to happy boys wanting their picture taken and adept shell-selling girls.

I passed on the smelly shells, but got the back of my hand kissed multiple times after showing the boy his photo. No requests for money, food, nor anything. He just seemed genuinely thrilled to see himself in a photo. Having not been pressed for gifts, I actually felt good about offering them a share in the snack lunch I was digging out, in addition to giving them all an XiX tee-shirt.

A bit after rounding Cap Beddoza the shore becomes more broken as the rocky cliffs more commonly drop directly into the sea, and, at one particularly nice promontory just north of Safi, I met up with a couple of Germans who gave me the scoop on a few nice places to see and also let me know that the campground in Safi is actually quite good. Clean, hot showers, and walking distance into town.

Also joining our road-side chat was an extremely modern Maroc woman. Faded blue jeans and a bright red sweater...sans scarf. She saw us talking and came right up to introduce herself while her mother, brother-in-law, and nephew keep watch from 15 meters away. A school teacher from Marrakech, Haiana was quite friendly and informative. Some kids also joined in the fray, looking for money, and a discussion ensued regarding what to do. Both the Germans and Haiana strongly feel that nothing should be given on account of a dependence being formed, in addition to the added hassle and pressure on future tourists. Haiana pointed out something I ultimately already knew, that, when tourists give out chocolate or money, it leaves little reason for the kids to attend school. Why sit in a boring classroom when you can earn several euro, diabetes, and tooth decay from begging? Giving a pen, pencil, book, or some such item, if one is inclined, is better, she suggested.

I guiltily kept silent about my offering of cheese, fruit, and nuts...not to mention the tee-shirts, earlier this morning.

I continued into Safi, checked into the Municipal Camping and Caravanning Park, had a long, hot, shower, which was much appreciated after a few days without, and then took a walk into town.

Maroc seems to have an over abundance of inexpensive Cyber-Cafes everywhere you look. Leaps and bounds (obviously) ahead of Italy and pushing the Netherlands for the primary position in quality...or so I've seen thus far, and, after hitting the net for a bit, I stopped into a little hole-in-the-wall cafe for a plate of food. Bread, salsa, olives, little lamb patties, grilled onions, pomme frites, a bowl of lentils , and a drink filled me to capacity. For less than three euros, I could not have gone wrong on this terrific lunch.

After lunch I wandered from the "new" town down past Place Mohammad with its largest tajine in the world, past the public gardens, and onto tree-lined Ave Moulay Youssef, where, upon seeing me photograph the trees, a woman offered her modeling services. Her daughter did not seem as enthused as mom was.

The Kechla, a massive defensive structure on the east end of the medina, and currently home to the ceramic museum, is quite impressive with its various gun emplacements, buttresses, and thick vertical walls. I decided not to pay the 10dh entry fee, but instead just took a walking tour around the outside. Its grandeur is really quite impressive.

Next on my list, although I didn't actually have a list...and was simply enjoying a bimble, was back down to the water to check out the surf.

There was a nice little break over some rocks next to Qasr al-Bahr, the old Portuguese sea-side fort and governors mansion, so I joined a few others in watching for a while. We were looking through some barred windows on an extension wall and would sometimes even get a bit of a splash, regardless of how far back we were. Too, I noticed, the spray was making its way 60 feet up, and over, the fortress walls!

I decided a better view was in order, so I paid the 10dh for the fortress tour. The old prison tower was the highest point, and offered some sweeping views over the medina to the east, however, interesting as the medina may be, my attention kept being drawn back to the raging Atlantic.

Up the middle of the fort is a ramp for cannons, and that's where I headed next. On this seaward side, ~60 feet above sea level, I was surprised to feel the fort reverberate with the crashing of the periodic extra large wave. I was even more surprised when, while watching over the edge, one of said waves crashed into the fort and actually shook me into shock...until the water from below soaked me. It hit me so hard it knocked my sunglasses off my head and, of course, drenched my camera.

Now thoroughly wet, I continued my wall circuit to the south side, where I noticed hundreds of locals lining the cliffs as they enjoyed the surf. Those cliffs range from 30-50 feet high (a bit lower than the fort walls, and quite a lot lower than the corner towers) but they were clearly getting wet as well despite their too delayed attempts at flight.

I left the fort heights to join the masses along the cliffs and we watched for hours...some staying dry, most getting wet, and all immensely enjoying themselves.

Eventually I left the sea and wandered into the medina.

Safi is famous for pottery and manufactures not only the green roof tiles of many important buildings in Maroc, but also countless other items such as bowls, plates, tajines, pots, etc. Another thing I found quite interesting about Safi is that there is very little in the way of high pressure sales. I think this must be on account of the virtual lack of foreign tourists. A couple of ugly petro-chemical plants are the most likely suspect in keeping the Europeans away, but that was fine with me as I was able to peacefully wander around looking at this art.

I can think of a few friends who could put a tajine to good use, and I don't think I know anyone who could not use one of these beautiful plates or bowls. But, how does one get them home unbroken?

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