we decided it was worth a stop. Well that and because all of our other plans had fallen through. Regardless, Sunday morning we hopped a train headed south and jumped off for a few hours in town.Deciding to tour the medina first we exited the train and made our way through the station and out the doors. Not planning on taking a taxi we were unaffected by their amusing absence, but bewildered by the starkness of the lot.
Sure it was tiny, but not a single car was in sight, neither for that matter was another soul. We had clearly made a rookie mistake evermore labeling ourselves as foreigners. All of the other experienced and most likely more observant travelers had crossed to the other side of the tracks and gone immediately down through the grass towards the road and beach. 
Shrugging it off we continued our walk into town generating quite a bit of curiosity from the locals who were surely wondering how we had become so separated from our tour group.Eyeing the beach and small port we pressed on to the fortified walls surrounding
the medina and holding back the raging seas. Walking through the massive stone arch we entered into another time and place. The glistening whitewashed walls and spotless streets felt at odds with the rest of Morocco and even the sandy beaches lying just outside. Moving further in, the peaceful lines of white were only periodically interrupted by bursts of brilliant colors taking the forms of murals and flowers adding ever more to the enchantment of the city. Feeling much more like a European postcard and containing more tourists than I am comfortable with, I loving dubbed the town "little Espana."
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