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Mdiq/Martil, Morocco
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Time of Visit: November 3, 2022
The owner of my hotel in Tetouan told me one evening that if I had the time, I should visit two nearby towns called M'diq and Martil. I was sold on the name alone, but he went on to explain that they are coastal resort towns completely off the radar of Western tourists. I decided to go the next day.
The cheapest form of intercity travel in Morocco is the grand taxi - an informal network of beat-up Mercedes sedans that depart and arrive at fixed locations in cities, towns, and villages. Although local inhabitants in these cities and towns know exactly where these taxi stands are located, there is zero information anywhere on the internet, so non-locals have no choice but to ask around. After struggling to communicate with a mixture of hand gestures and broken French, I finally found the grand taxi stand departing for M'diq. Grand taxis leave when they are full, and luckily I was passenger number 7, so off we went.
The 40-minute ride cost me $1.80, and I was welcomed into M'diq by a dazzling blue sky and a deserted town of whitewashed plaster and concrete.
Apparently M'diq gets slammed with visitors from inland Morocco during the summer, where the heat starts melting the thermometers. But because I visited in November, only about a third of the shops were open.
I hadn't brought a swimsuit or anything, so there wasn't a whole lot to do other than walk along the beach and sit on shaded cafe terraces. So I did just that.
Most beaches in Morocco have horses and camels that you can ride for a fee. The owner of the livestock looked sad that day, but I'm sure business would have been thriving on a warm summer day.
One block removed from the main promenade of M'diq was a restaurant street. When I stepped in to have a look, the owners of the few open restaurants simultaneously turned and fixed their eyes on me like I was the second coming of Mohammed. Très délicieux, my friend! Bon poisson! What you want? One particularly eager owner took me by the hand and proudly led me to an overcrowded, dirty tank of fish. All fresh! I told him I would think about it and walked back to the grand taxi stand so I could go to Martil.
I went to a beachfront restaurant in Martil that was surprisingly expensive by Moroccan standards - about $13 for a plate of fish and avocado juice - but it's hard to complain when your sit-down meal is cheaper than a Chipotle burrito bowl back home.
Martil was equally sleepy that day. Yachts bobbed up and down in the marina, their owners nowhere to be seen. Elderly women chatted leisurely in the shade while sun-wrinkled men stared at the sea.
Life itself seemed to be put on hold in this corner of the world.
song of the day: The Velvet Underground - Sunday Morning