Grand Cafe De Paris, Tanger

Day 4: October 24, 2024

The cafe, a relic from 1927, was a watering hole for the damned. Kerouac, Burroughs, Bowles, Williams – a motley crew of lost souls and literary giants – gathered here, nursing cigarettes and dark thoughts, their minds churning out the next great American novel.

The outside is nondescript and if you didn’t know any better you’d more than likely walk right past it. Being bookish bastards, we had to start the day at Café Paris. The waiter spoke French. We managed to communicate with a mix of broken phrases, hand gestures and smiles. That’s the beauty of these Moroccan cafes - the languid pace, the endless stream of coffee, and the people-watching. It’s a place to sit, smoke, and lose yourself in the chaos of the street.

Later, we wandered past the faded halls of the Palais Mendoub, the haunting Marshan Palace, and the serene Tangier Grand Mosque.