Rabat, Morocco: Daily Life in the Capital

The Drive South: Asilah to Rabat

Leaving Asilah behind, I headed south towards Rabat. The drive took a little over two hours and felt straightforward. The kind of road that lets your mind wander while the kilometres quietly pass. 

Fishing towns dotted the route, appearing and disappearing just off the main road. About an hour in, I pulled over at Moulay Bousselham for lunch. I stopped at La Terrasse, right on the beachfront. The area felt relaxed and functional rather than polished. Lunch was seafood, with a clear view of the water. It broke up the drive perfectly.

Back on the road, things gradually began to shift. The closer I got to Rabat, the more structured everything felt. Roads widened, traffic increased, and the pace subtly changed. You could feel the transition from coastal towns to capital city without needing a sign to tell you.

Driving into Rabat, the difference was immediate. One of the first landmarks you pass is the royal residence, with guards stationed outside and staff tending carefully kept grounds.

After the softness of Asilah, Rabat felt composed and deliberate. Not loud, not chaotic, just purposeful. A clear shift into the next chapter. 

Arriving in Rabat: A Central Base

I checked into my Airbnb in the centre of Rabat, firmly rooted in the city’s everyday rhythm. Rabat is more spread out than Asilah, less about drifting and more about moving with intention. The beach wasn’t on the doorstep, it was around a 30-minute walk away.

What was close was the city itself. Shops, bakeries, cafes, and practical errands were all within easy walking distance, giving the area a lived-in, functional feel rather than anything curated for visitors.

Geographically, it felt like a midpoint. A place to return to, reset, and head back out again.

Match Night in Rabat

That evening, Rabat came alive. Morocco was playing in the quarter-final of the Africa Cup of Nations, Africa’s equivalent of the Euros.

When Morocco won, the reaction was instant and unstoppable. Car horns echoed through the streets in constant waves. People spilled outside, cheering, singing, waving flags, celebrating together. The noise rolled on well into the early hours of the morning.

It was impossible not to feel how much it meant. This wasn’t just a football match; it was pride, unity, and shared identity playing out in real time. Standing there, watching it all unfold, I found myself completely swept up in it. From that point on, I followed the rest of the tournament closely, and of course, I was rooting for Morocco all the way.

First Impressions: Rules, Rain & Resetting Expectations

My first day in Rabat was spent wandering the neighbourhood, getting a feel for the city. Almost immediately, one thing became clear: Rabat is not dog-friendly. Not in shops, not in cafes, not in restaurants, and not even on terraces. It was a stark contrast to places like Asilah and Europe, and honestly, my biggest shock so far in Morocco. Being the capital, it makes sense; rules feel more present here, more firmly observed, and that naturally shapes how you move through the city.

It definitely limited my options. With Roly in tow, spontaneous cafe stops or lingering lunches weren’t possible. Add to that it was a cold, wet day, damp pavements and the start felt a little tougher than I’d hoped.

Luckily, I found a solution nearby: Tangier’s Bocadillos, just a ten-minute walk from the apartment. Fresh wraps made to order, quick, warm, and exactly what I needed. I took lunch back to the Airbnb, sheltered from the rain, and reset.

It wasn’t the most cinematic first day, but that’s travel too. We were only here for a couple of days, and despite the slower, more restricted start, I was still determined to make the most of Rabat, even if it meant adjusting expectations and pace.

Rabat, Between the Plans

The next few days in Rabat were actually some of my most productive. With Roly being a hard no in most attractions, I naturally slowed down. Instead of fighting it, I leaned in. I stayed in, put my head down, powered through client work, updated this blog, and cooked proper meals again. All hail Glovo for making that part easy.

The Airbnb helped. It was spacious, had a balcony, and didn’t feel claustrophobic, a decent setup for a few low-key days after months of near-constant movement on the road. It felt grounding in a way I didn’t realise I needed.

Around that time, I’d also befriended a Moroccan guy, Simo. He lives in Rabat, works as a surf instructor, and suggested we meet later in the week when the weather improved. The plan was: harbour, medina, souk, beach to see the city, with someone who knows it well.

When Rabat Opened Up

When the sun came back later in the week, Rabat shifted again. I met Simo and we headed out properly, starting along the Bouregreg Corniche. This is where the city breathes a bit. The river is wide, restaurants line the edge with people walking, talking and passing time. It felt social, but not showy. Rabat at ease.

From there, we walked up into the Kasbah of the Udayas, a 12th-century fortress built to defend Rabat’s coastline, now one of the city’s most recognisable historic quarters. The shift is immediate with heavy stone walls, palm-lined steps, then a sudden wash of white and blue. Narrow lanes, weathered doors, cats stretched out in the sun.

Inside the kasbah, the city noise drops away. It feels enclosed, almost self-contained, perched between river and ocean. We stopped for traditional Moroccan mint tea overlooking the water, the Atlantic stretching out beyond the walls, one of those pauses that lands exactly where it should.

Down at the Beach

We walked down from the kasbah onto the sand, where Rabat feels stripped back. The beach sits right where the river empties into the Atlantic, so the water is darker and restless, constantly shifting. It’s not the kind of place you come to sunbathe. People were walking, standing, watching the tide, letting dogs run, kicking a ball around. Above us, the kasbah walls stayed fixed and heavy, like the city was still keeping an eye on the ocean.

Into the Medina

From the beach, we headed back inland and slipped into the Rabat medina. Shops bled into each other: baskets stacked high, trays of nuts and sweets, snacks and household goods packed tightly behind glass counters. People moved with purpose, shopping, chatting, stopping mid-walk to greet someone.

There was no hard sell, no pressure to buy. Just stalls open to the street, food sizzling, and the quiet chaos of a place that functions first and entertains second. We wandered without a plan, cutting down side alleys, stopping to look, moving on again. It felt real, unfiltered and exactly the kind of place that rewards curiosity instead of rushing you through it.

At the Hassan Tower

We ended at the Hassan Tower and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, one of Rabat’s most symbolic sites. The 12th-century minaret rises from an open square of stone columns.

Beside it, the Mausoleum of Mohammed V feels pristine and ceremonial. Guards watch while visitors move slowly around the space, instinctively lowering their voices. Pigeons lift off and resettle against the ancient walls. It's a place where Rabat’s political, religious, and historical layers meet in one wide, open breath.

Notes from the Road: Rabat

Rabat asked for adjustment. It wasn’t instantly easy, especially travelling with a dog, and it didn’t offer the same softness or spontaneity as Asilah. It’s a city shaped by rules, structure, and function, and you feel that quickly.

But once I stopped expecting it to behave like a coastal town and let it be what it is, Rabat made more sense. It’s a capital first. Purposeful. Grounded. Lived in. A place where daily life runs alongside history rather than being built around it.

What stayed with me most was the contrast. Quiet working days followed by streets erupting in celebration for football. Administrative order balanced by moments of warmth, generosity, and connection. Ancient sites woven directly into modern routines. Nothing polished for show, but plenty to notice if you paid attention.

Now, it’s time for the next route.

Next stop: Casablanca.