The road trip to Rabat was born from a need, but ended up as quite a treat. The espresso I gulped helped negotiate rates from the only guy that was actually there within the (theoretically many) car rental shops. Shortly after we were shooed out of the Casablanca airport parking lot, the gas light came on. This reminded me of how our expectations - cars come with full tanks, no? - are always being challenged, especially when we hit foreign environments. After adventures of finding and filling gas, ring roads and other roadblocks, we raced to reach Rabat before the embassy closed. I can see why most people prefer places that have paved paths for their vacation plans.

That Rabat was the capital was evident. Order, institutions, infrastructure, upkeep and ornamental architecture were easy to appreciate. Cruising the concave curve of the road seemed like a covert ceremony that introduced the city. At the edge of the bend, the view waited, like the set that’s revealed when the curtain rises and the play begins.

I remembered my first visit to Morocco many moons ago, and while I didn’t revisit Fez and the other classic spots again, having a home base in Casablanca enabled a few short-haul stints. Our first stop was the Chellah. Once thought to be a Phoenician trading post, the Sala Colonia displays Roman ruins, a cemetery and architecture from Islamic dynasties.

The complex bridged yesterday to today with practicality. Hip and hipster style restaurants flanked it on the bottom and top, with the latter offering panoramic perspectives of the city.

The first of many mint teas were enjoyed from that vantage point. White storks serenaded our stay as we looked on with front row seats onto the Mohammed VI Tower. This is the tallest building in the country at 250 meters (visible from 50 km away) and is equipped with 36 elevators for 55 floors.

I’m a fan of arches. To me, I feel the invitation to pause and ponder over the physics and precision, which in turn, amplifies their aesthetics. I had to override my desire to photograph them all, as Morocco has millions to marvel at.

From there, we strolled over to Rabat’s historic UNESCO fortress Kasbah des Oudaias, with its blend of Andalusian and Moroccan architecture. On this prime piece of land, another past and present co-existed.

At the adjacent Rabat beach, boys scurried after a football, kicking up sand as they demonstrated their skills in directing the ball. Within the same soil in the cemetery just slightly above, lay the remains of their ancestors.

Along the fort, various vantage points were freely forthcoming, like someone who seems guarded, but then tacitly touts their talents.

This place of the past persevered in offering sweeping views of the skyline for us all to enjoy, still. Elbows resting on the cement ledge, I peered out at the horizon and powered down all the apps running in my mind. In no time, I was washed up in the waves, the sun and sky, as if my molecules were part of the entire mural that I was mesmerized by.

A tiny dive shop, beautiful facades of the washroom, the water view and my feet on the beach made it difficult to leave. Nearby though, the next stop was quite quaint too. While it reminded me of Stradun, the main drag in old town Dubrovnik Croatia, this seemed much more lived in and artisanal.

The colours of the rainbow were readily used in all the magnets, coasters and other touristic paraphernalia on display. I imagined how many could coo over this memorabilia considering how their souvenir might be the perfect star or supporting accessory, reminding them of this sojourn.

Maybe, as mortals these types of reflections regularly land on our radars. Or perhaps it becomes a point once someone passes. After all, death too also affords opportunity. The Mausoleum of Mohammed V - the first King of Morocco - in Rabat is an exquisite example how a resting place can become an enduring symbol of heritage and respect while showcasing local craftwork.

Artistry, including colourful zellige (geometric mosaic tiles), carved plaster and carved cedar covered in gold leaf commanded our eyes upward, then down to the ground where the tombs of the royal family lay.

The dipping of the day doused the monument and its grounds in a soft light. Visitors wafted in and out. While we wandered through here relatively quickly, I was cognizant of the decades and details of deliberation of those that came before us and how this shaped not only their present, but also, the moments we moved through today.

May we regularly frequent our capital within, fortifying it with the qualities we wish to exude and embody,

On both trips, Casablanca almost felt like it was casa, home - well, at least home base. I’m grateful for countries like these where we can travel without prior paperwork. Visa issues for some African countries continue to be ongoing stresses. As such, their quicksand criteria further complicates already complex travel plans. So Casa was a bit of a haven. Truthfully, the unexpected ‘extra days’ here was a first-world problem that many would love to have, and that I fully enjoyed.

Part of the Maghrib region of North Africa, Morocco proudly displays its Berber, Arab and European influences. Berber and Arabic are its national languages, though most are fluent in French as well. Following the Roman empire, trading posts along the coast became key confluences of culture and currency generation. This made Morocco an essential part of the trade route. These dynasties expanded into Spain and Sub-Saharan Africa. Following independence from both Spain and France in 1956, as a constitutional monarchy, Morocco continues to bridge Europe and Africa. These geopolitics have generated cuisines that tantazlize tastebuds. Be it Berber dishes like tangine and couscous (the national dish), the infusion of Arab spices such as saffron and cilantro or the French inspired pastries and cafe, food here fills and is fulfilling.

A gentle landing into Africa, the country also offers much to be mesmerized by. From intricate tile, ornate plaster work and majestic arches, buildings are beautiful and inviting.

I wonder about the hospital and clinics I serve in, the home I return to, the community centres I drop into and the landscape in which I swim. Where and how do they create cozy corners for our emotions, energy or efforts? Indeed, the buildings in which we live, love, work and wonder ought to nurture us.

To explore some surroundings that catalyzed this, we headed to La Corniche, where both locals and tourists frequently flock. Attractions that build on top of the main attraction cater to cohorts. From toy cars for toddlers and grub for foodies to bikes and blades for those inclined, most find something they enjoy here. The semicircular belt not only hugs the coastline, but also has chic restaurants, play areas, a lighthouse and the Hassan II mosque that pepper the path. Boasting the second tallest minaret at a 210 meter high, heated floors and a retractable roof, now the second largest mosque on the continent, it was once the second largest mosque in the world.

Dusk dropped in quickly, but did so with flare.

Navy and grey clouds rolled in as if foreshadowing an ominous outcome, like those big bouncers whose demenour tells you, ‘no, you absolutely can’t enter’. The sidewalks were a sold out show, but their wide walkways gave room to us all. I love how the outdoors always makes space to host.

I have some friends whose efforts seem as natural as air and whose manners motivate joy, comfort and belonging in a blink of an eye. What tangible things could we do the next time we had others over was the question I asked myself …

Even before it was a host city, roads in Morocco are paved, properly signed and easy to navigate for the most part. Thus, hopping over to nearby cities from Casablanca was a temptation we could implement as soon as it became an idea. But first, it was time to catch a match - the African Cup of Nations is on now! Actually, due to the slow progress in Guinea, via a second bid, these games are now happening here.

The Sudan versus Equatorial Guinea football match was amusing. Smaller and softer than FIFA in Qatar, I spent some time watching a section of Sudanese cheer away after their country scored a penalty shot, winning the game 1:0.

In sports, scores are kept. In travel, some barometers measure the experience. When it comes to a place as a home base, no matter how thin or thick the time we spend, ultimately, there’s a gestalt that lingers. For me, Casablanca offered a landing and launching pad that left me loving where my feet found themselves. No matter where we’re stationed in life (physically or philosophically), our current home base ought to nurture harmony, happiness and hope - as if it was a hostess that prepped red carpets and rose petals for just us.

May we find security, serenity and satisfaction in our home-base - wherever that is ATM,