The King Of Cool

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Such heavy burdens aside, it is certainly not bad to be King. He has the use of gorgeous palaces all over the country, although he considers them "the office" and resides in more unpretentious digs. He works out daily with a trainer, hanging out at hotel gyms when he is on the road. On weekends he heads for a beach club in Rabat to race jet skis with friends. In Marrakech he is spotted at restaurants in the Casbah or at the city's fabled La Mamounia Hotel, where he recently startled some Cabinet ministers accustomed to free meals by taking out his wallet and paying a lunch tab.

The King is attached to his three sisters and brother, the latter being next in line until the unmarried monarch produces an heir. (While Moroccans anticipate a royal wedding, details of the King's social life are closely held by the palace and his friends.) Old friends now in key positions may kiss his hand during working hours, then kick back as former high school buddies at night. He's working on ways to get together with his close friends and fellow Arab rulers King Abdullah II of Jordan and Emir Hamad of Bahrain; he hasn't met Syrian heir Bashar Assad, 34. Despite high expectations for this new wave of leaders, Mohammed VI cautions, "One should not think that a new generation will turn everything upside down."

As he jogged along, scarcely breaking a sweat, the King mused on his devotion to Morocco's ancient Jewish community, the national soccer team's lackluster performance, America's penchant for simple solutions and a piece of advice his father once gave him. "He told me that the most important thing was 'to last,'" Mohammed VI explained. "In truth, I do not know what he meant. Since he died, I have been thinking about it. I do not deserve my current success. What matters is to be appreciated later for what one has achieved."

Mohammed VI seems well aware that times are changing, that the days of feudalism in Morocco are over. An enormous risk is that his eagerness to initiate change may undermine budding democratic institutions like Morocco's parliament--and set him up for a fall if public opinion sours. "I cannot do everything," he hastens to say. "We must all roll up our sleeves." He makes no pretense to his father's stature as statesman, although he does not lack for opinions. He criticizes Europeans for seeing North Africans as terrorists, and when asked if he is satisfied with U.S. economic support, his answer is, "Absolutely not." He is blunt about Morocco's relations with Algeria, which he cites for prolonging the dispute over the Western Sahara. The King refuses to take part in a meeting that simply becomes "a contest on who will speak the loudest." Yet he is not above praising Algeria's President for his sense of humor.

The King boards the Royal Air Maroc 737 for his return to the capital. The cabin is bedecked in flowers and silk carpets. He slips quietly into Seat 2A and chats with flight attendants who offer tea, canapes and chocolates. Near the end of the one-hour flight, he reflects on his tour of the drought-stricken south. "These people need some moral support and some comfort," he says quietly as the plane banks over Rabat. "It is now time for authority to serve the people, and not for the people to serve authority."