A tanner beats a hide in a medina doorway, and a few steps on, leather slippers hang in bright rows beside stalls of carved wood and silver. The lanes keep climbing past workshops toward the white walls of the Kasbah, and below them the round Grand Socco marks where the old town meets the new.
Beyond the souks, the Marshan plateau runs along the sea to the terraces of Café Hafa, and the coast road heads west to Cape Spartel. Summers are warm and dry, while winters turn mild and rainy under Atlantic winds. A Local Friend translates the menu, the maze of lanes and the mood of the day, so you always know which way to turn next.
