4 December 2025
Casablanca was never truly in our plans. Like many, I held a quiet, nostalgic flame for the nameโfanned by the 1942 Hollywood classic. But I knew the reality: the movie was a product of a Burbank soundstage, and the Casablanca of today is a sprawling, modern megalopolis. With only ten days in Morocco, we had prioritized the ancient soul of Marrakech and the coastal calm of Rabat.
However, travel has a way of rewriting your itinerary. When Rabat turned grey with impending rain while Casablanca promised a sliver of sun, we pivoted. It was a journey defined by grand architecture and a fair share of high-stakes railway drama.
The Logistics: Navigating the ONCF
Since we stayed within walking distance of the Rabat Agdal station, the train was our obvious chariot.
- The “Official” Trap: Ensure you use the correct site: www.oncf-voyages.ma. Third-party sites often lurk in search results, charging double for the same seat.
- The Ticket Machine Hack: We learned from our Tangier trip that buying at the station is superior. Online bookings with non-Moroccan cards often trigger extra transaction fees. At the kiosk, we paid roughly 90 dirhams for a return ticket, avoiding the online surcharge.
- A Tale of Two Trains: While the Tangier-Rabat line is a sleek, modern marvel (Al Boraq) with assigned seats, the Rabat-Casablanca shuttle is the “old guard.” Itโs free-seating and can get incredibly crowded during peak hours.
The Crown Jewel: Hassan II Mosque
Upon arrival, we hailed a “Petit Taxi.” In Casablanca, haggling is the local sport. Unlike Rabat, where drivers use the meter, our driver quoted 30 dirhams. We stood our ground and negotiated it down to 15 dirhams.
Historical Context: Completed in 1993, the Hassan II Mosque is an architectural marvel and a rare bridge for travelers. In Morocco, most mosques are strictly reserved for Muslim prayer. This is one of the very few open to non-Muslim visitors. Its minaret towers at 210 meters, and its location is poetic: built partly over the Atlantic Ocean, it honors the Quranic verse stating “the throne of Allah was over the water.” It was the vision of King Hassan II, who wanted to create a monument that showcased the pinnacle of Moroccan craftsmanship.
Because we aren’t Muslim, we paid for the guided tour. While waiting, we explored the museumโa stunning display of zellige (mosaic) and carved wood. Inside the mosque, the scale is staggering. The high ceilings and grand arches are breathtaking, though the dim lighting makes it hard for photos to do the majesty justice. We sat on the floor, straining our necks to admire the roof, eventually descending into the vast, fountain-filled ablution halls.
We left around 1:00 PM as the call to prayer began. Walking along the coast, we watched the turbulent Atlantic waves crash against the foundations of this sea-bound sanctuary.
The Habous and the “Pigeon Problem”
A Grab took us to the Habous District. Built by the French in the 1920s as a “New Medina,” itโs an idealized version of Moroccan architecture. The Olive Market here is a highlightโvats of colorful olives as far as the eye can see. We tried to visit the Royal Palace and Governorโs House nearby, but they were shuttered, leaving us with only a photo of the ornate gates.
We eventually wandered toward Mohammed V Square, famous for its pigeons. Perhaps Iโve seen too many birdsโthey used to infest my school back homeโso the “fuss” about this particular square eluded me. With the sun setting, we decided to skip the Medina and head back to the station to catch the 6:00 PM train.
The 6:00 PM Stand-off: A Railway Drama
The station ticket machines had already cut us off, so we sprinted to the counter, grabbed our tickets, and ran to the platform. What we saw was a sight to behold.
The train was a solid wall of humanity. People were jammed against the glass; the doors wouldn’t shut. Inside, frustrated passengers were literally banging on the train’s “skin” to signal the conductor to close the doors. The climax came when a man forced himself through a closing door at the last second, but his bag remained trapped outside.
We watched, transfixed, as fingers poked through the slits in the door, desperately trying to pry them open to save the bag. The station officer had to sprint down the platform, yelling for his colleague to stop the train before it pulled away with a trapped passenger.
The Sunday Spice
The train eventually left without us. We got a cash refund and settled into a coffee shop to watch the Africa Cup with the locals until the 8:00 PM train. When the next train arrived, the anxiety was palpable. My friend and I had a strategy: Go high. We bypassed the crowded entryways and sprinted for the top deck, successfully snagging two seats.
Was it inconvenient? Yes. But as a traveler, the drama spices up the trip. Casablanca might not be at the top of my “must-return” list, but the image of that mosque against the waves and the chaos of the station are memories Iโll keep forever.
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