Chefchaouen

Have been here a week and am still waking at 3:30 a.m.; the jetlag has been a real struggle this trip, not helped by the cold I have that MF has kindly passed onto me.

No drink and no coffee either since arriving; the coffee here is that black thick type served in a small glass and women are rarely seen frequenting cafes. Actually I did have a coffee in Casablanca and it was a ‘cappuccino’ and we did enjoy it - in a cafe which had 1 or 2 women there. But in the main, the cafes have been the domain of men. Everywhere you go, you see men lounging around smoking and drinking coffee, chatting or just watching the world go by, or on their i-phones! Usually they are dressed in the local jellaba, a hooded, long, loose-fitting tunic (made of wool at this time of year, it being so cold).

Smoking is a big deal here in Morocco. Cigarettes are sold everywhere. And even in the seafood restaurant in Casablanca the first night, it was a shock to have to eat one’s meal with smoke billowing around.

The past few days we have been having our main meal at lunchtime, and just have yoghurt and fruit for dinner. We had lunch today on an upstairs terrace overlooking the city of Chefchaouen. We were served bowls of lentils, fava bean paste, roasted pumpkin and zucchini, chickpeas in a tomato sauce base, plus bread of course.
Bread is a big thing in Morocco, either baguette type or round flat buns, or croissants (usually at breakfast). I think they must do at least 2 bake-offs a day as in the evening one notices all the bakery stalls loaded up once more ready for people to buy their bread for dinner. They don’t eat a lot of meat as they can’t afford it. Although we had goat tagine - in addition to all that other food!; it was very tender and delicious but I could only eat a little of it as I was so full! We had a lovely panache drink also; blended fruit with orange juice. Yummy.

So, we left Fez early and drove to Chefchaouen about 600 m up in the Rif Mountains which criss-cross the top of Morocco from east to west. It was an uneventful drive although bumpy and the road was extensively damaged in parts where the water had cut the road the other day. The countryside is attractive: very green and there are swathes of yellow colour from flowers and huge red poppies. Lovely! Khalid our guide says in his decade of touring this area, he has never seen it look so beautiful; clearly the recent rain has been a boon. There is still water lying around in the fields.

We pass through small villages; one larger one has a souk (market) in operation and is packed with locals. It is Sunday and there is a sense of people relaxing.

As we approach Chefchaouen (if I have to spell out that word one more time, I’m going to ‘crack it’), we pause at the top of the climb at a the village of Ouezanne for terrific views across the Laou Valley to the city.

Chefchaouen’s (!) claim to fame? It is a blue city: the entire medina is washed in a thousand shades of blue - and everywhere, there are stray cats posing in front of ornate indigo doorways. The town also has a long history of hippie-culture and use of hashish (known as ‘kif’ here).

Founded in the 15th century, Chefchaouen was a bastion of the Sultan in his resistance against the Portuguese. To protect it from the repeated attacks of its western neighbours, access was long forbidden to Christians, but never to Jews.
There is a strong Spanish influence here: many of the streets and shops have Spanish names and the locals speak Spanish.

The medina is the usual labyrinth of alleys but it is difficult to get lost in this one as it is small; one just needs to aim towards the outer wall that surrounds the medina and eventually (!) one finds a gate (‘bab’). I knew I had walked a few kilometers by the time I’d walked the perimeter of the medina inside the wall, looking for an exit! All the alleys eventually lead down to the main square, Plaza Uta el-Hammam, and its restored kasbah.

And of course there are the usual array of goods being sold.

Even so, with no doubt more than 16000 steps accomplished, in the late afternoon, we returned to our hotel UP the hill from the centre of town for a rest before heading BACK into the medina to find the path out over the stream for a fairly tough trek UP to the Spanish Mosque (so called because it was a Spanish church before being converted to a mosque) high up on a hill overlooking the town. There were throngs of people winding their way up snd down the track, but we were heading UP in order to watch the sunset. As things turned out, the sunset wasn’t particularly exciting, but as the sun went down behind the mountains, a group of young men started singing accompanied by one playing the guitar. I don’t know who they were but their voices were a delight and the crowd clapped along enthusiastically to the music. It was fabulous.

We enjoyed the walk down in the semi-darkness watching the sky turn pink snd the lights of the town sparkle; the call to prayer boomed out from the local mosque all adding to the atmosphere. Apparently they pray 5 times a day.

It was a long slog back UP to the hotel; our feet certainly knew they’d been out and about, especially with the 3 flights of stairs to be mounted UP to get to our room! We dived into a hot shower (yay!! after 2 nights in Fez with a shower that was lukewarm and barely a trickle), had our little meal plus a cup of tea I made using the saffron I had bought in Meknés. It’s a small room but very comfortable.