The last place we visited while in Rabat was the mausoleum of Mohammed V. He was born in 1909 and was sultan of Morocco from 1927 until 1953 when he was exiled. On his return from exile in 1955 he was again recognised as the sultan until he became king in 1957. He remained king until his death in 1961 and is buried in the magnificent mausoleum shown in today’s photos. In the coming days I will shown more of this magnificent building, both inside and outside.
We spent an hour or so exploring the Kasbah des Oudaias in Rabat, Morocco, during our stay in the country. Next to the kasbah is the estuary of the river which flows through the city. Today I feature some of the photos taken of the river estuary.
On our wanderings through the Kasbah des Oudaias in Rabat, Morocco, I came across this intriguing door. Some doors were decorated in some way, but none as elaborately as this one. It features a number of what look like metal plates, several horses pulling chariots, a horse-shoe, a mermaid and no less than five scissors across the top. Apart from the number of the house, there was no indication of who lived there, or whether a particular enterprise was undertaken within.
The writer in me wants to ask questions like: who lived here? What trade did they follow? Was someone living here a dress maker, a tailor, a lover of horses?
While wandering through the twisting streets of the Kasbah des Oudaias in Rabat, Morocco, I came across this beautiful pot complete with flowering plants. This area of the city is closely populated with little room for gardens. Like many people living in such situations, they love to grow plants in pots or window boxes.
Whenever we travel, whether that be here in Australia, or in exotic places like Spain or Morocco, I am fascinated by the amazing variety of architectural styles. In many cases I am moved to take photos – if time permits. In addition to the general style of each building, I also take an interest in the various embellishments people make to their homes or other forms of buildings.
On our visit to Rabat in Morocco we were on a guided tour through the twisted lanes and narrow streets of the Kasbah de Oudaias. This pair of windows made me stop and take a photo.
Immediately the writer in me checked in: who lived behind these windows? What was their story? What tales of love, loss or delight could they tell? I guess I’ll never know; I’ll just have to write my own story.