Day 3, Rabat

Same old, same old. Rain and wind at night but today it continued almost all day, with heavy downpours and large puddles lakes all over the roads.After a relatively late wake up and breakfast in the Pietri restaurant, we took off in our putt-putt to the gas station and filled up on gasoil. Then through the horn symphony and the bumper cars around the medina to the tip of the city overlooking the Atlantic. This is the original city, the Kasbah Oudaya, walled and a veritable hilltop maze. We parked and entered through the wall into an isolated and quiet enclave with twisty laneways (wide enough for 2 people mostly). A young "student" latched on to us to be our guide. He spoke English, French, Arabic and Italian and his brother lives in Copenhagen ("where it is too cold"). He showed us a few lookouts over the Atlantic where the cannons used to be as well as many of the current houses of the quarter, where supposedly many Europeans live. Each house is mostly a wall  with just a door from the alleyway. So each door represents a work of art, identification and protection. Wooden, studded, painted and carved. Quite ornate with hardware such as scissors to designate the profession (doctor) or some point of history. The alleys were painted white with blue bases, somewhat like in Greece. Cats were part of the decoration. One of the doors reminded Guittel of her aunt Rebecca's door in the Meknes Mellah. Eventually our guide deposited us in the Cafe Maure overlooking the Bou regreg delta, after a little 'discussion' about his fee. We drank mint tea and ate a local pastry while the rain started and stopped repeatedly. Our time in the Andalusian garden was limited by another downpour. So back to the car and up and down the hills looking for the mall  we had heard about in Suissy, south of downtown. After a few more u-turns and several pardonnez-moi, ou se trouve..... Tout drrroit madame., directions we found an ersatz American enclosed mall complete with skating rink (real ice) and a bowling alley as well as the requisite food court. As the rain was pounding down, this seemed to be good activity to occupy the family. Lunch was schwarma, sandwiches and lip licking chicken nuggets (Southern Fried Chicken) for Michael of course. Guittel had the best capuccino of her life (so far), while the shops were inspected and found wanting by our spoiled Canadian mall rats. Of note, everything was in French with scarcely a letter of arabic visible. The customers wore the latest chi-chi clothes with winter accessories of ski jackets and Ugg boots despite the 18 degree outside temperatures. Suitably satisfied at this touch of Anywhere world, Rabat style, we took off again in the rain and traversed the town several times trying to see into the Royal Palace grounds. We tried driving through a gate but we did not look official enough in our rented Renault and so were told to come back tomorrow (like in the Wizard of Oz). So as a consolation prize, we again circled the downtown back to the tip of the city and the rue des Consuls. I am not sure if any consuls ever saw this  lace but it is a mini market street of Moroccan crafts and anything else that can be sold. Surprisingly all the vendors sat quietly, likely because their pants were waterlogged and they were afraid to chase the five measly tourists available (us, I think) for a sale. Kate tried to buy a pair of pink Chanel babbouche (probably not an original design....) for a few dhirams short of a loaf of bread at home. The vendor did not want to part with them although Canadian customs might have enjoyed looking for the copyright mark under the large CC . Finally we had enough and we blithely shared the road with two hundred side by side petit taxis back to near our hotel in Centre Ville.Fortunately we were able to park with the help of a toothless old man somewhere under a hundred years old. He promised to watch our car until the morning or death, whichever came first. We will see in the morning. A few dhhirams should keep him going. We did not want any incidents as with our first car where it appears the tires were slashed in front of the hotel door. Amine sent his man back from Casa to Rabat at 7PM with our spare tire and we reinstalled it under the car in case of emergency. He was also "dentally challenged" but grateful for a small pourboire.
Kate and Guittel meanwhile enjoyed the daily mint tea in the hotel restaurant surrounded by many hard drinking business men of the capital.
After consulting our many guidebooks, we settled on a restaurant nearby known for its Moroccan and Jewish cuisine. Unfortunately this curiosity on rue Patrice Lumumba could not be found in the dark, likely as the owner had safely emigrated to cold wintry Montreal, I suppose. So we settled for our hotel rstaurant again to get out of the light drizzle. We were all in a good mood and enjoyed the food. Dessert and coffee and it was late enough to go back to the room and research our trip to Fes tomorrow.