National Geographic Traveller India April 2019

A P R I L 2 0 1 9 • ` 1 5 0 • VO L . 7 I S S U E 1 0 • N AT G E O T R AV E L L E R . I N

Movie Magic in Morocco

Wil d-eyed wonders

LADAKH

HOT ON THE SNOW LEOPARD TRAIL

LONDON

WHERE THE URBAN JUNGLE BEGINS

UTTARAKHAND

THE CAT’S CALL IN JIM CORBETT

MAASAI MARA

KENYA’S KINGDOM OF HEAVEN

N AT I O N A L G E O G R A P H I C T R AV E L L E R I N D I A

April2019 VOL. 7 ISSUE 10

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THE ITINERARY 14 WINDY CITY BLUES Dog-friendly hotels, smoke-swirling cocktails, and the world’s largest digital art display in Chicago 22 A WALK THROUGH VINTAGE YANGON

Exploring Myanmar’s colourful past through its former capital’s architectural relics 36 BAHRAIN FOR THE ARTSY SOUL A burgeoning contemporary art scene stirs in the Arabian Gulf 40 NAGALAND’S CITY BY THE RIVER RUNS DEEP

Deep tribal traditions, unhurried landscapes and a buzzing modern crafts scene away from the tourists 44 FOR THE LOVE OF WHITE GOLD Stalking Germany’s trusty asparagus in Münsterland

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THE DESTINATION 50 TRACKING THE GREY GHOST In the remote Ulley valley in Ladakh, the snow leopard flits like an apparition 56 UP-CLOSE WITH LONDON’S WILDERNESS

Colourful birds, blankets of bluebells, and red deer thrive in three parks in and around one of the world’s busiest capitals 60 MAASAI MARA: LAW OF THE JUNGLE

A photographer returns from the reserve with intimate glimpses of the people and their land

PHOTO COURTESY: TAJ PASHAN GARH

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Regulars 12 Editorial | 112 Travel Quiz 49

66 WALK ON THE WILD SIDE A young traveller’s memories of Jim Corbett National Park come visiting in a letter from her future self 70 BIRDING IN A GHO Bhutan’s national dress comes with deep pockets and the joy of discovery 72 FOLKTALES FROM THE FOREST Young members of the Pardhi tribe rewrite their story as expert guides who know Panna National Park as home.

Plus: A villa in the wild

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THE JOURNEY 78 LEAPING THROUGH THE LAND OF LIGHT

As summer magicks into an early winter in the meadows of Kyrgyzstan, a visitor on horseback unlearns set ideas of travel

94 ART OF ESCAPE Landscape and artistry converge on a creative pilgrimage to Montana, U.S. 108 ONCE UPON A TIME IN MONGOLIA

Myth and reality collide on a trek across the taiga ON THE COVER It is a rare man that can ignore the call of the wild. No matter Wil d-eyed wonders how fast life spins around your urban labours and aspirations, a brush with feral energy can almost always drown out the noise. The unscheduled spirit of the wild is captured in this picture, where the fastest land animal has deigned to stand still for a dramatic frame. Welcome to the jungle.

A P R I L 2 0 1 9 • ` 1 5 0 • VO L . 7 I S S U E 1 0 • N AT G E O T R AV E L L E R . I N

Movie Magic in Morocco

LADAKH

HOT ON THE SNOW LEOPARD TRAIL

LONDON

WHERE THE URBAN JUNGLE BEGINS

UTTARAKHAND

THE CAT’S CALL IN JIM CORBETT

MAASAI MARA

KENYA’S KINGDOM OF HEAVEN

SHIKHEIGOH/ROOM/GETTY IMAGES (ANIMALS), YADID LEVY/AGEFOTOSTOCK/DINODIA PHOTO LIBRARY (MEN) HSRANA777/ISTOCK/GETTY IMAGES PLUS/GETTY IMAGES (COVER)

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88 WE’LL ALWAYS HAVE RICK’S A wild goose chase through two Moroccan cities does not lead a Casablanca fan to Rick’s Café. But it gives him a journey to remember

EDITORIAL LAKSHMI SANKARAN

BEAUTY IN THE BEAST

J

animal behaviour. They adopt stealthy stances behind thickets, sharply snap their necks about at the slightest indication of any movement or stand alert as if awaiting some imaginary clarion call. All this for a fleeting glimpse of a creature, who is either startled or unsettled by their presence. Animals are levellers; if we want to see them, it’s only fair we play by their rules.

Chasing a wild animal also never succumbs to a pattern. Each time the excitement is unique, the story entirely unscripted and the heart, pounding and fully alive. Now, given what we know about the existential threats facing wildlife in the future, that experience is bound to be poignant too.

Our wildlife special is packed with a slew of adventurous escapades from the woods, like two enthusiasts trailing the reclusive snow leopard in Ladakh and a writer looking back on the refreshing, quiet and unexpected thrills of Jim Corbett National Park. Some narratives shine light on getaways in crowded urban crawls such as wildlife hotspots in London. Others discover that forgotten tribes in India’s central parts are its finest sentinels.

So yes, wildlife deserves to be seen thriving in its natural habitat. Go tiger-spotting, deer chasing or birding. As Treebeard said, the woods need all the watchers it can get.

HTU/MOMENT/GETTY IMAGES

ANIMALS ARE LEVELLERS; IF WE WANT TO SEE THEM, IT’S ONLY FAIR WE PLAY BY THEIR RULES

R.R. Tolkien was right to portray the Ents, hulking pieces of tall barks with sad eyes and mossy facial hair who guarded forests, as perhaps the most stoic figures in his Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Their whole manner spoke to an endurance that seemed constantly on the verge of dissipation. They had seen and tolerated far too much in a world at war with itself. Yet they remained calm, like a steady lighthouse in torrential downpour.

Treebeard, the oldest of these Ents, makes one of the wisest observations about Middle Earth and, if any of us think about it today, our Earth too. “I am not altogether on anybody’s side because nobody is altogether on my side…Nobody cares for the woods as I care for them.” I imagine his weary resignation is shared by this great planet’s animals and birds, especially its wild inhabitants.

I’ll confess I have never been completely at ease in the jungle. I have enjoyed my few visits to national parks and sanctuaries but at the end of them, I have come away feeling like an intruder at a party, where no one approves of my appearance.

But I do recognise that being in the wild is something everyone should attempt at least once in their lives. Notice how travellers on a forest safari often start unwittingly mimicking

OUR MISSION National Geographic Traveller India is about immersive travel and authentic storytelling, inspiring readers to create their own journeys and return with amazing stories. Our distinctive yellow rectangle is a window into a world of unparalleled discovery.

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​Write to me at natgeoeditor@ack-media.com or Editor, National Geographic Traveller India, 7th Floor, AFL House, Lok Bharti Complex, Marol Maroshi Road, Andheri East, Mumbai- 400059.

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THE ITINERARY MYANMAR

A TRAIL THROUGH VINTAGE YANGON

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t reminds me of Kolkata in the sixties. The streets are lined with grand fin-de-siècle buildings in a variety of styles: pastel stucco facades, and red brick buildings with wrought iron balconies covered with grime and mildew, plants sprouting from their bricks. Some lie under scaffolding, others are covered with blue tarpaulin.

To stroll through the streets of Yangon (erstwhile Rangoon), is to turn back the pages of its history. The phantoms of the past seem to linger around every corner.

Myanmar’s largest city was laid out

by British military engineers Alexander Fraser and William Montgomerie in 1852, as a garden city in a geometric grid around the Sule Pagoda. Because of the dictatorship that lasted until very recently, and the country’s forced isolation, many colonial buildings remain intact, showcasing a wealth of architectural styles from art deco, to Queen Anne, to neoclassical with Asian motifs and influences.

I’m on a heritage walk through the port city’s downtown area with Wai Linn of Yangon Walks. “British rule till

1948 gave rise to many grand edifices that mixed colonial styles of architecture with local materials, like Burmese teak,” Wai says. “Today, Yangon has the densest concentration of colonial era buildings in Asia.”

The city had a multicultural merchant population—Armenians, Jews, Indians, English, Scots—and they have all have left their mark on its urban fabric. “The best materials from across the world, like marble from Italy and iron columns from Manchester, were imported to construct buildings,” Wai adds.

The Yangon City Hall is a blend of traditional Burmese and European architectural styles, with a tiered roof and Burmese temple motifs.

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ASHIT DESAI/MOMENT UNRELEASED/GETTY IMAGES

EXPLORING MYANMAR’S PAST THROUGH ARCHITECTURAL RELICS BY KALPANA SUNDER

THE ITINERARY BAHRAIN

BAHRAIN FOR THE ART LOVING SOUL A BURGEONING CONTEMPORARY ART SCENE IS CREATING A STIR IN THE ARABIAN GULF BY PRACHI JOSHI

I

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been a better time for art enthusiasts visiting Bahrain.

GALLERIES GALORE I begin my art trail in Adliya at La Fontaine Centre for Contemporary Art

Street art in Adliya explores themes of freedom and gender (top); Launched three years ago, Art Bahrain Across Borders (ArtBAB) has the patronage of several international galleries (bottom).

housed in a sprawling, 19th-century traditional Bahraini house. Its central courtyard, surrounded by high-ceilinged rooms, makes for the perfect exhibition and event space. It also houses a spa and a café, where I meet Fatima Alireza, the director of La Fontaine. “I have to feel the artist, and their work should fit in with the aesthetic of this space,” she says when talking of the collection that she personally curates from an eclectic lineup of international artists. La Fontaine currently has an exhibition of stunning mixed media installations by Turkish sculptor, Ali Abayoglu.

Another gallery worth checking out is Ella Ar≠t Gallery, also in Adliya.

It exhibits the figurative and abstract artworks of its founder, Ella Prakash.

PRACHI JOSHI (ARTWORK), PHOTO COURTESY: BAHRAIN TOURISM (GALLERY)

spot a large, charcoal wall drawing of a woman’s face with the words “Art Will Survive” scrawled across in bold red. The legend is repeated in Arabic, French, and surprisingly, in Hindi. I’m peeking through the glass walls of Al Riwaq Art Space in Bahrain’s bohemian quarter of Adliya, which is choc-a-bloc with cool boutiques, ritzy restaurants, and has art around every corner. While the building still stands, Al Riwaq shuttered its popular exhibition space and café last year, but art continues to survive elsewhere.

When thinking of contemporary art, Bahrain may not be the first destination that springs to mind. Yet this tiny Middle Eastern kingdom has an emerging art scene that deserves attention. With dedicated art galleries showcasing both local and international talent, and the annual Art Bahrain Across Borders (ArtBAB) event held every March, there’s never

THE ITINERARY NAGALAND

The Kachari ruins are remnants of the 19th-century Kachari Kingdom, of which Dimapur was once a capital.

NAGALAND‘S CITY BY THE RIVER RUNS DEEP

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ny visitor to Nagaland usually passes through Dimapur, before moving on to the hills of peaceful Kohima, home to the Hornbill Festival, 75 kilometres away; the pristine village of the Angamis, near Kohima, called Khonoma; scenic Dzukou Valley, part of the Khonoma Nature Conservation and Tragopan Sanctuary; or rustic Mon, stronghold of the Konyak tribe half a day’s drive away from Dimapur, which hosts the Aoleong Festival ,showcasing the traditional homes of these one-time headhunters and anghs (kings).

Dimapur, the largest city in Nagaland, is the gateway to its treasures, home to the only railhead and airport. The capital of the Dimasa Kachari Kingdom in the middle ages, it is located on the 40

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banks of the Dhansiririver (Dimapur is literally ‘city by the river’). The city is dusty, its roads are ridiculously potholeridden and difficult to navigate. But a few days here will acquaint you with urban, local life in Nagaland, away from the typical tourist itinerary.

The Kachari monuments are a major point of historical interest, located at the edge of the city’s river, in the heart of the city. Dating back to the 10th century, these mushroom-domed pillars—most around eight to 10 foot high—are decorated with plant and animal motifs. While some of them are crumbling, the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) cleans and preserves these ruins. It is believed that a game akin to chess was played here, using the pillars.

About 35 kilometres from Dimapur,

the Intanki Wildlife Sanctuary features langurs, black storks, sloth bears and hornbills—worth visiting to get a sense of the wildlife of this region. Chumukedima Village, 14 kilometres away in the hills, has some scenic waterfalls and was the first headquarters of the Naga Hills district under British rule, in the early 19th century.

There are lots of sites of day trips within easy access, from Dimapur. “Go to the paddy fields, the river. If you are lucky you might spot a few wild elephants—all on a cycle,” says Sanen Pongener, a local finance professional and photographer.

“Dzuleke, about two hours from Dimapur, is great for camping amongst beautiful streams and lush forests

SHIKHA A/SHUTTERSTOCK

A FEW DAYS IN DIMAPUR ARE ENOUGH TO EXPERIENCE ITS MANY PLEASURES—COLOURFUL CRAFTS, TREAT-FILLED RESTAURANTS AND ACCESSIBLE NATURE TRAILS BY RAJNI GEORGE

THE DESTINATION

TRACKING THE

GREY GHOST IN THE REMOTE ULLEY VALLEY WEST OF LEH, THE SNOW LEOPARD FLITS LIKE AN APPARITION

IRANI

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BY GUSTASP AND JEROO

The first glimpse of the snow leopard feels like fantastical; the beast camouflages itself expertly amid the stark Himalayan landscape.

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ADITYA SINGH/IMAGEBROKER/DINODIA PHOTO LIBRARY

JAMMU & KASHMIR

THE DESTINATION

GUSTASP AND JEROO IRANI

Ladakh’s Ulley valley is a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Leh, crusted with snow, and a breathtaking panorama of ridges and cliffs.

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JAMMU & KASHMIR

The graceful Himalayan ibex calls the steep crags of Ulley home.

The snow leopard paused, preened and then presented a proud profile, unaware of the adoring paparazzi gazing at him from a distance.

It was our second day in the icy vastness of Ulley Chhu valley, 76 kilometres west of Leh in Ladakh, Jammu and Kashmir, where we had headed in search of the elusive grey ghost of the Himalayas. The valley is said to have around 12 big cats that live alongside Himalayan ibex, urial, wolves and vultures.

As we gazed at him through the telescopes set up at the bottom of the ridge, he yawned, baring his fangs. A bloody kill lay nearby; we learnt he had devoured it over a week. For a few moments, we forgot it was -15 °C, that the bitter cold cut to the bone; that freshly fallen snow lay at our feet and the wind whooshed and whipped around us. All we could see was the big furry cat loping slowly on the ridge towards its kill, and the iceencrusted mountains that shrapnelled the sky.

A half-frozen Indus flowed below, the colour of jade in parts, adding to the magic of the solitary cat’s movements. We couldn’t believe the snow leopard was real, and not an apparition.

Slowly, light leached out from the sapphire skies, but the mountains continued to glow like extraterrestrial ships that had soft landed in the middle of nowhere. Darkness descended like a curtain drawn on a performance, leaving its audience speechless, and obliterated the cat from view.

We walked back in a daze to our SUVs, which purred over ice-slicked roads, and onward to the Snow Leopard Lodge in the village of Ulley, a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Leh. Despite its relative closeness to Leh, the village of six mudbrick homes draped with prayer flags, seemed to exist a planet away from the city. The lodge offers rudimentary comforts like gas heaters and kerosene bukharis (traditional heater), and in that icy wilderness, it was everything we needed.

Up in the mountains, at 13,000 feet, the rarefied air winded us; we moved in slow motion and wheezed when we bent to tie our shoelaces,

SAMYAK KANINDE/ALAMY/INDIAPICTURE

STEALTH AND GRACE MARKED HIS EVERY STEP; HIS LONG FURRY TAIL SWISHED LIKE A BRIDAL TRAIN, HELPING HIM MAINTAIN BALANCE AT THE TOP OF A RIDGE.

snuggling into layers of woollen clothing at dawn. Beyond our bedroom windows lay the Himalayas slumbering under layers of fresh snow. We’d hear the crackle of the bukhari being lit. Hot water in buckets followed by steaming cups of tea made it easier to emerge from the mountain of quilts and fleece-lined blankets we burrowed under each night, hugging hot water bottles.

As we walked from our annexe to the main block for breakfast or dinner, we skirted shaggy dzos (a cross between a cow and a yak) and furry, ponderous yaks that are the lifeline of the locals. Dun-coloured chukker partridges strutted around in the yard.

Occasionally, we would meet a local with her apple-cheeked baby strapped to her back, lugging empty plastic canisters to a nearby river to fill water. Older children would peep out from behind their mamas’ skirts, often gambolling in the snow like marmots.

At the lodge, there was camaraderie aplenty, as guests swapped life histories and experiences.

“When we first came here we were, in a sense, blind. They taught us how to see,” said Catherine Eva, an American tourist, nodding towards Tchewang Norbu, who owns the Snow Leopard Lodge. He is also an expert tracker and a local legend of sorts. A few days ago, Eva and her group had seen a snow leopard close to the village, thanks to Norbu and his team, who

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THE DESTINATION

Maasai M A A S A I LAW OF THE JUNGLE PHOTOGRAPHS BY

ABHISHEK HAJELA TEXT BY

LUBNA AMIR

KENYA

Mara M A R A Kenya’s Maasai Mara National Reserve is a mecca for lovers of wildlife, and many make the pilgrimage to witness the wildebeest migration to and from Serengeti National Park in Tanzania. A photographer spends time with the Maasai tribe, who inhabit parts of Kenya and Tanzania in and around the reserves, and returns with intimate glimpses of the people and their land.

THE DESTINATION

Folktales

Forest Young members of the Pardhi tribe rewrite their story as expert guides who know Panna National Park as home.

Plus: A villa in the wild

By Rumela Basu

MANX_IN_THE_WORLD/ISTOCK/GETTY IMAGES (DEER), IMAGEBYSUTIPOND/SHUTTERSTOCK (CIVET)

from the

MADHYA PRADESH

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Spotted chital and sambar, and on occassion, civets (facing page), can be spotted in the 542-square-kilometre Panna National Park; ‘The Walk with the Pardhis’ offers unique insight and takes visitors on an interesting journey through Panna's territorial area.

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THE JOURNEY

―

Leaping through the

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Land of Light

KYRGYZSTAN

Yurts are huts made of animal felt, a common accommodation for locals living in higher altitudes.

AS SUMMER MAGICKS INTO AN EARLY WINTER IN THE MEADOWS OF KYRGYZSTAN, A VISITOR ON HORSEBACK UNLEARNS SET IDEAS OF TRAVEL

Vikas Plakkot

TUUL & BRUNO MORANDI/DIGITALVISION/GETTY IMAGES

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THE JOURNEY

As I whizz through on silky tarmac after three arduous days in the highlands of Kyrgyzstan, collapsed in the back of a sedan clocking 100 kmph, my mind races to George Orwell’s 1984. I have not landed myself in a dystopian world, but I feel my integration into the nomadic way of life in Kyrgyz mountains follow the same three stages of reintegration into society à la Winston in the Orwellian classic.

We are deep into September, the fag end of summer in Kyrgyzstan. The shepherds are still taking their cattle up to the jailoo—meadows covered in velveteen grass. Me and my partner-in-crime, Divya, are catching a break in the sleepy town of Kochkor, snuggled in the office of the KCBTA (Kyrgyzstan Community-based Tourism Association)— which has arranged for us hyper-local homestays across an impending mountain trail. We are only 197 kilometres from the capital, Bishkek, but turrets of wind sneak cold into the room, reminding us it was a good idea to layer up. Although temperature here is barely skimming 14°C, our guide, Alik, has mentioned that the horse trek across the ‘heavenly’ Tian Shan mountains to the banks of the Song Kol lake at 10,000 feet would be all about surviving the sub-zero.

He waltzes into the room and exclaims, “We have our first snow of the season, you’re lucky”. I look over my shoulder at Divya, unable to comprehend this turn of fate. “We are not riding horses in the snow, are we?” she stares back blankly.

Alik rushes us to the supermarket, places gleaming bottles of local vodka (KGS100/`100) into my hands and informs, “You’ll need it, trust me.” For someone who has never ridden a horse, or endured sub-zero conditions, the start doesn’t feel ecstatic. After all, this was supposed to be a trip to the grasslands, cool evenings tinged with the sweetness of late-summer. But winter, it seemed, was halfa-month early, with little patience for our plans.

Bundling our newly bought supplies into backpacks, we drive 70 kilometres southwest to the village of Kyzart at the base of the mountains where our horses are waiting. Along the way, Alik ushers us into a quaint house for lunch. Divya and I wolf down the Kyrgyz staples of Russian bread, sheep milk-butter, home-made jam and cold mutton soup as if it’s our last meal, barely pausing to catch each other’s eyes in appreciation. Bellies full and hearts racing, it’s time to meet our designated horses.

I’m riding Nurbek, who’s majestic with lush, black mane flowing across his eyes; Divya is in the company of Jerde, who might as well have strutted out of a ramp. Riding, I’ve learnt, is a part of everyday life for the Tagai clan Clockwise from top left: Before an early winter set in, the writer spotted cattle in grasslands; Horse riding along the Tian Shan mountains left the writer's heinie weary; Song Kol lake punctuates the vacant landscape with a jolt of blue; Meals here involve the noodle dish of beshbarmak, Russian bread, and plov.

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Stage One: L earnin g

NEAL J. WILSON/MOMENT/GETTY IMAGES (HORSE), DIVYA BEHL (LAKE) FACING PAGE: GTW/IMAGEBROKER/GETTY IMAGES (COWS), MATTEO COLOMBO/MOMENT/GETTY IMAGES (MEAL)

KYRGYZSTAN

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We’ll always have rick’s

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ARCHIVE PHOTOS/MOVIEPIX/GETTY IMAGES (FILM STILL) FACING PAGE: PHILIPPE MICHEL/AGEFOTOSTOCK/DINODIA PHOTO LIBRARY (BAR)

THE JOURNEY

MOROCCO

A CASABLANCA FAN'S WILD CHASE THROUGH THE BAR-CRAMMED GULLIES OF TWO MOROCCAN CITIES

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Green Parrot, the bar at Rick’s Café in Casablanca, shows off walls covered with posters of the eponymous film, which plays on eternal loop; Facing page: Rick Blaine, immortalised by Humphrey Bogart, will always be remembered as the cynical owner of a nightclub in Casablanca, the city where the film was not actually shot.

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THE JOURNEY

‘‘

Ilsa Lund: Let’s see, the last time we met…

Rick Blaine: Was La Belle Aurore.

‘‘

Ilsa: How nice, you remembered. But of course, that was the day the Germans marched into Paris.

Rick: Not an easy day to forget.

TAILING TANGIER

Getting off the train at Tangier’s railway station on a fine African morning, there’s one question playing on my mind, which none of the pushy cabbies can answer. Where can I find Casablanca?

On any world map, the alluring port city of Casablanca features prominently on the Moroccan Atlantic Coast. And it looked exotic in black-and-white in the cinematic classic Casablanca (1942), but the truth is that not only was the film not made in that city, it wasn’t shot anywhere near Morocco.

Warner Brothers’ studios in California was the physical location for the movie in which Humphrey Bogart played Rick Blaine, the jaded owner of nightclub Café Américain. To save resources, sets were recycled from other movies except for the crucial one—Rick’s nightclub was purpose-built to look like a Moroccan bar. And I’ve come across persistent rumours that its inspiration was actually not in the French-influenced town of Casablanca at all, but supposedly in the spy zone, Tangier.

Tracing the origins of the nightclub, I learn the original script was a failed play called Everybody Comes to Rick’s conceived by American teacher Murray Burnett, who journeyed through pre-war Europe in the late 1930s. The year before the World War, Burnett was on the French Riviera and popped into La Belle Aurore, a nightclub overlooking the Mediterranean, somewhere in the Antibes-St Tropez area.

La Belle Aurore’s patrons were a crazy mix of locals, Nazis, refugees headed for Tangier, and a black pianist playing jazz— he apparently even hammered out “As Times Go By” while the party animals appeared to be in denial of the upcoming war. Burnett said to himself, “What a setting for a play.” But to make it even more interesting, he changed the location to Morocco, across the Mediterranean, though there’s no record of him crossing over there. (To muddle up things more, the script features a nightclub by the name of La Belle Aurore— but in Paris.)

At the time, a consortium of European countries with strategic interests in the region had turned Tangier into a demilitarised international zone. While Casablanca was a 90

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commercial port far from Europe, it was here (within the sight of Gibraltar) that all the world’s restive refugees, dipsomaniac diplomats and tattling talents were mongering rumours at the city’s café-bars and gambling dens. That’s the atmosphere that permeates the film.

Consider the number of celluloid thrillers set here, that put the city’s name prominent in titles such as Flight to Tangier, Man from Tangier, Tangier Incident, and Espionage in Tangier. There are a couple of scenes in James Bond flicks too; in Spectre (2015) 007 visits a fictive Tangier hotel called L’Americain in an obvious homage. Tangier was even the backdrop for Bollywood spy picture Agent Vinod (2012), starring Saif Ali Khan and Kareena Kapoor.

Half a dozen bars in the city have been alleged to be the original Rick’s by self-appointed experts. Topping the list is Dean’s on 2 Rue d’Amerique-du-Sud; both the bar’s name and street location are suggestive of Rick’s Café Américain. Its charismatic owner Dean opened his eponymous piano bar in 1937, just a year before Burnett’s trip. Sitting across the street from the British consulate, it used to be crammed to the rafters with spies, smugglers and subversives. The book on the bar’s colourful history even bears the giveaway title Everybody Comes to Dean’s.

I find that it downed its shutters in 2015 and the sign outside has been stolen by some relic hunter. The near-mythical barkeeper Dean was even more enigmatic than the film’s Rick: it seems nobody even knew his full name, because when I eventually discover his cracked tombstone in the nearby graveyard of St Andrew’s Church (50 Rue d’Angleterre), it simply states: ‘DEAN. Missed by all and sundry. Died February 1963.’ There’s not even a year of birth.

Other plausible candidates include the bar at Vox, Africa’s biggest cinema in the 1930s and well-known hangout of spies, but only its sign is left hanging on the gable of Pension Café Fuentes (Petit Socco). Another was Guitta’s (110 Rue Sidi Bouabid), a tavern which remained unchanged since the 1950s until it had to close down recently when a mosque was built opposite to it; next on my list are the long gone Salon de Thé, and the extant Café de Paris (across from the French consulate), which no longer offers alcoholic drinks, but serves a great café au lait which I sip on while trying to think of how to uncover the authentic Rick’s.

The final contender in my notebook, which gazillions of websites claim was the model for Rick’s, is Caid’s, the bar at luxury hotel El Minzah (85 Rue de La Liberté), where everybody from Ian Fleming to Winston Churchill used to stay. So, I put on a clean shirt and splash cologne on my undies. Supposedly furnished with mother-of-pearl inlaid furniture and stainedglass lanterns, its décor is said to be the influence for many Arab-style sets in Hollywood over the years—including Rick’s.

The staff, I hear, believe that Casablanca was actually shot on location at the Minzah, originally a 1930s Arab mansion owned by a Greek-American millionaire who was kidnapped by bandits from the nearby mountains. Its bar seems to be named after Harry ‘Caid’ Maclean, a Scotsman who also got kidnapped for ransom by the same hillbilly gang. The cocktails Murals (top) add colour and character to the streets of Casablanca; Pop culture rumours suggest that the original inspiration for the Moroccan bar model of Rick's Café was from the port town of Tangier (bottom).

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DEDE BURLANNI/DIGITALVISION/GETTY IMAGES (MURAL), ZAC O’YEAH (CITY)

MOROCCO