Embracing the Written Word in Rabat
The first book I ever read with genuine enthusiasm was Bridget Jones's Diary, and I was just 19 years old at the time. Prior to that moment, I had not considered myself much of a reader; my interests were primarily focused on football, watching Baywatch, or simply daydreaming about my classmates. If given the choice between diving into a book or staring blankly at a wall, I would have happily chosen the latter. However, everything changed after I completed my A-levels and began working at a barbecue restaurant in Portsmouth, where I stumbled upon Bridget Jones's Diary lying around in the staffroom. I picked it up and found myself irresistibly drawn in, reading a few pages that quickly turned into several more. It felt exhilarating, as if I had formed a new relationship. Over the next few days, I found myself canceling plans to go out with friends just so I could enjoy reading in bed instead. My mother, misinterpreting my newfound obsession, worried that I was going through a phase of depression.
What truly matters is not which book ignites your passion for reading but that a book does indeed spark that interest. For some, like Jeanette Winterson, it was the Book of Deuteronomy; for David Nicholls, it was Tales from Moominvalley. Throughout my 20s, I worked as a carer, but I continually pursued my love for reading and writing. Seven years ago, I became a published author, and it is no exaggeration to say that Bridget Jones's Diary played a pivotal role in altering the course of my life. This brings me to the announcement that 2026 is designated as the National Year of Reading in the UK, a campaign intended to highlight the importance and joy of reading. Coupled with Rabat being named this year's UNESCO World Book Capital, I eagerly packed my bags and set off for Morocco's capital, anticipating both a cultural adventure and the chance to savor some authentic tagine in this historically rich coastal city that elegantly sits between Casablanca and Tangier.
Exploring the Rich Culture and Vibrant Streets of Rabat
Rabat became Morocco's capital in 1912, marking the beginning of a challenging 44-year period under French control. My initial impression of the city was shaped by the New Town, or Ville Nouvelle, which was designed in the 1920s in a distinctly French style, standing in stark contrast to the sprawling medieval medina that lies just a short distance away. After arriving at the central train station, I made my way to the solar-powered Mohammed VI Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. The permanent exhibition, titled Shifting Horizon(s), showcases a variety of stunning works, including the abstract paintings of Mohamed Melehi and a striking photograph by Lalla Essaydi, whose piece titled Bullet Revisited serves as a powerful commentary on the violence faced by women.
As I journeyed deeper into the medina, I found myself wandering through a labyrinth of narrow streets filled with small shops selling fresh mint, traditional slippers, strawberries, and _sabon beldi_, a black soap made from olives. The atmosphere was bustling yet serene, and I was pleasantly surprised that no one bothered me to buy a carpet or sample a sardine, making me feel somewhat invisible in this vibrant market. I followed my instincts to the Kasbah of the Oudayas, a picturesque neighborhood known for its charming whitewashed houses. Perched on elevated ground with views of the ocean, this former royal citadel offered a perfect vantage point for spotting visitors approaching from afar.
After settling into a beautiful riad on Rue Bazou, I descended to a beach where locals enjoyed playing football and volleyball. As the sun began to set, I found a spot on the breakwater to watch the spectacular scene unfold before me, with a lone surfer seeking the perfect wave. That evening, I dined at the beachside Relais Marin restaurant, where I savored a delectable tagine filled with lamb, almonds, and prunes, all simmered to perfection in a rich, flavorful sauce that I couldn't resist mopping up with Moroccan flatbread.
The next morning, I visited the Cafe des Oudayas, located next to the lovely Andalusian Gardens, where I enjoyed mint tea while admiring the view. As I sipped my drink, I witnessed a boy preparing to leap from a towering rock into the Bou Regreg river, his friends cheering him on. After a moment of hesitation, he dove gracefully, leaving the onlookers in awe until he resurfaced, only to be met with playful jeers from his peers. It was a delightful scene that encapsulated the youthful spirit present in Rabat.
On a whim, I hopped into an electric tuk-tuk and asked the driver to take me to the Chellah, a medieval necropolis that also contains the remnants of the Roman city of Sala Colonia. The driver, eager to showcase his city, took me on a detour past St. Peter’s Cathedral and a nightclub called Amnesia, reputedly a place where Morocco’s king once danced as a young prince. Upon reaching the Chellah, I was captivated by the picturesque ruins. I concluded my visit with a meal at a lovely cafe on-site, enjoying a traditional couscous dish that featured an impressive array of seven vegetables, a mound of fluffy couscous, and a hidden treasure of meat nestled within the vegetables—truly a feast for the senses.
If you find yourself in need of a cold beer in Rabat, the place to be is Le Dhow, a bar and restaurant located on a boat moored near the kasbah. I enjoyed a refreshing pint while chatting with a British university student studying at the Université Internationale de Rabat. When I asked her about her experiences in the city, she shared that it had been quite pleasant, noting that while some men had greeted her, she had encountered far worse attention back home in Worcester.
As I reflect on my journey, I must admit that visiting Rabat solely because it is this year’s World Book Capital may not be the best reason to go. Despite my efforts, I could not uncover the specifics of the more than 300 events planned throughout the city for its World Book Capital designation. Instead, I encourage you to explore Rabat simply because it is a remarkable city in its own right. On my final evening, I serendipitously discovered a quaint bookshop in the medina, Bouquiniste El Azizi. Among the hundreds of secondhand books, I spotted a familiar title—Bridget Jones's Diary. I picked it up, read a few pages, and then left it behind for another reader to enjoy, perhaps sparking their own journey into the world of literature.
As I exited the shop, I noticed a sign that read: _Les livres prennent soin de nous_ (Books take care of us). This sentiment beautifully encapsulates the essence of my journey and the bond we share with literature.
As reported by theguardian.com.
