Tomorrow we leave Chefchaouen on route to Meknes. Nina and I have been in Morocco two weeks now and the days have flown by since we left Norfolk. We had the weekend in London and Brighton before catching our bus to Paris. We picked up an overnight train to Madrid and had just enough time there to grab a churros, definitely needed to boost the sugar levels, still trying to get over the weird snotty face ache that I’d left England with. We moved on again by train to Algeciras where we were to catch our boat to Morocco. It was only 36 hours since leaving London and we decided to take a room for the night, hoping to catch the ferry early the next day.
Tangier, the first port of call in Morocco, felt a bit hectic when we arrived but a couple of evenings watching the action at the local square soon settled us into the pace of Moroccan city life.
Nina and I had always promised ourselves somewhere to chill for a bit when we arrived here and from what I’d heard from mates Chefchaouen was ideal and so it was to be our next destination. We’re still here 12 days later and there’s plenty of reasons why.
The place is beautiful, with it’s old blue washed medina, and feels a million miles from the hustle and bustle of Tangier. We found a nice place to stay and for me to catch up on some overdue diploma work. Plus there’s mountains to be explored.
Our most genuine encounter so far, and a welcome change from the continual requests in the streets to buy kif, the locally grown ganja, was from a lovely guy we stumbled across looking for a track into the hills. He invited us into his mountainside garden to show us what he grew and reared. Carob, almonds, olives, fennel, chickens and rabbits were all within the edible prickly pear perimeter. Communicating with a bit of broken french and lots of hand gestures we were sure we’d been invited back to eat with him another day. Born from frustration and not being able to explain our little garden at the Patch, we decided to print some photo’s to take back with lunch a few days later. It was the perfect place to sit and eat our last meal here in Chefchaouen and very humbling to be handed a djellaba, the traditional Moroccan mobile sleeping bag, as a parting gift. Thank you Abdulkarim.