Breaking forth from rocks jutting out in the harbor, the Hasan II Mosque rises above man and sea, and the rest of the city of Casablanca. On one side, the waves break and crash against an outcropping reclaimed from the depths; on the other, open boulevards lay down in reverence of its shadow.

Started in 1986 as a tribute to the former king, the mosque dominates the skyline of the city. Parts of the place of worship share characteristics with the late Amir, such as the gleaming white tile which reflects into the square that surrounds the mosque. Hassan, the king, was a despot; concerned more with his image and how closely his will was obeyed, rather than the necessities of the souls over which he presided. There is the structural integrity itself, which has been weakened, even since its completion in 1993, due to the constant, steady eroding of wind and salt. Hassan, the man, while using force to make minorities and smaller countries succumb to his will, was no stranger to the stronger forces of human progress, which eventually led to his son having to ceade changes to the population during the Arab Spring Movement in 2011 (the repairs to the mosque, due to its location on the sea have, since its initial completion, cost upwards of €50 million). And, lastly, there is the sheer size and cost of the structure. Boasting the tallest minaret in the world at 210 m. high and coming in at a cost of more than €500 million, mostly funded on the backs of the people, the mosque clearly reflects the thoughts of a royal family out-of-touch with the time and context in which they live. Hassan II was considered one of the harshest rulers of the country, with tens of thousands losing their life because they either proclaimed their independence or simply because they did not bend to the directions of the political winds.

Okay, I’ll stop now. I needed to get that out there (especially since I’m no longer in the country, and can say whatever stupid thoughts come to my head). As Jasmine would tell me, “you’re getting too worked up about that.” “That,” generally meaning politics.

In reality, the mosque reflects more than the rays of the sun off of hand-worked stone, it reflects the vibrancy and creativity of Muslim culture - the best of what the religion has to offer: that of the creativity which gave birth to calligraphy unmatched by any Bible; that of inspiration which gave birth to modern mathematics; that of the hope and desire of people of all types, which allow us to come together to create something larger than ourselves.

Our pilgrimage to the mosque started on a Thursday afternoon, winding down the soft gradient of the southern Borgone neighborhood towards the Atlantic coast. Between ten-lane boulevards and the relentless churn of the sea, the mosque takes its places as the central focus of the city; fitting, since most daily life revolves around the call to prayer and other pillars of the Islamic faith. Entering the plaza itself, white marble and carved granite, is a humbling experience alone. A mixture of old and new; modern engineering techniques to build a time-honored temple, like the city itself the mosque blossoms from the shining ground it stands on, with flashes of green tile accenting the delicate curves of geometric designs and calligraphy scripture verses. The construction of this monument is a testament to man’s ability and the power of faith. It reportedly involved more than 35,000 workers, requiring over 50 million man-hours.

Entering the mosque was another experience, entirely reflective of Moroccan travel. As tourists mill about the front and followers of the faith weave their way between on their way to prayer, the doors open every hour or so to let a group of about 100 in on a tour. As this is a functioning mosque, and not just something to gawk in awe at, some hours are blocked off so as not to disrupt the daily prayers. Thankfully, if you have managed to stay in Morocco, a Muslim country, and have somehow not figure out the times of the daily Adhan (you know, the thing that wakes you up around 5 in the morning?), those times are posted at the door. However, there is not much mentioning the ticket you need to buy to get in. You do need a ticket; there are guided tours only, mostly so that the kafir don’t stumble into where they’re not allowed.

As we pinballed our way across the plaza, from security guard to security guard, we finally found the place to buy a ticket - at the end of the large modern buildings housing the mosque’s museum. I’ll spare you other details and the broken conversations that ensued, but the point is you need cash and you need to know what time you want to go in. We knew when, but lacked the other part. So with about 20 minutes before the last tour of the day (4 pm) and a half a mile hike to the nearest ATM, we tore down the pavement crossing intersections in the local style, without looking and with something like either reckless abandon or sheer determination. First ATM: declined. Mad rush across the street, and up the next block. Second ATM: declined (apparently, even if you tell your bank you are in Morocco, pulling out cash will get you flagged). Finally, with sweat and swear words dropping behind us, we found an ATM that would let us get some cash, and we ran the last few blocks to buy our tickets in time to run across the plaza to catch up with our fanny-pack strapped tour group.

I am not a religious man, but if god resides in us all, it finds its places to reverberate from marble columns and cedar carvings, through a hall made holy if only because of the numbers (25,000 on the inside, and another 80,000 out) will it to be so. While parts of Casablanca and Morocco as a whole can seem a place left for rubble and dust to reclaim, this mosque shows, since beyond the chandeliers and a few other flourishes it is entirely made from Moroccan hand and earth, the way in which man, in harmony with that around him can create something beyond the self, more than the sum of its part; something that reaches in one movement to the soul.

Led by Moses, our tour guide (Yeah, that was his name. I’ll leave my witty commentary to the side and let that be what it is), we walked through the prayer hall, with its high horse-shoed arches reaching 40 m. to a roof that retracts to let the room be illuminated by sun and moon. Down the central nave, flanked by cedar mezzanines for the women to pray unseen by God alone, we moved toward the qibla (the really ornate part that faces Mecca), which draws both eyes and prayers towards itself. Besides the platform at the qibla where the Imam pours prayer and wisdom on the followers, the only other items in the main part of the mosque are small chairs scattered throughout the naves where people can come through the week to hear imams and scholars expound on the words of God and the Prophet. The idea and austerity of it all is kind of a nice contrast from the gaudy and gold-foiled cathedrals of Europe; that in a house of worship man needs to be alone and one with his thoughts and faith, instead of declaring through every painted saint that god could only reside in a place with such power and wealth. Though the main hall and naves are empty of nearly all furniture and comforts, letting the words of the Quran carved into the walls and columns fill the hall, the space invites one’s mind to wander through intricate carvings and pillars to a place where the real meets with the ethereal. You are left to walk the expanse for about 15 minutes after the tour, searching the walls and ceiling for little details and flourishes from craftsmen working from soul to hand.

After the main hall of the mosque, you are taken down to the basement where baths and fountains fill the entirety of the chamber. Here, the faithful on their way to prayer or contemplation wash hands, feet and head in a ritualized cleansing before standing in the presence of God. From there, you walk under the record-breaking minaret, feeling the weight of the towering monument above you.

Beyond being the defining point of the Casablanca skyline, the Hassan II Mosque is representative of the defining aspect of life and culture in North Africa and the Muslim world. The white stone rises above the grit and chaos of the streets. For any making their way through this city, it is something worth braving the chartered tour busses and crowds of tourists looking for selfie-likes to see. It is a place that symbolizes the potential and cultural wealth of the country. It is a place that shows the power and creativity that comes from faith. It is a place that allows your heart and mind to feel at home, at one with the space itself, and just maybe a little closer to the soul of man.