Chefchaouen

The drive from to Chefchaouen takes over three hours through the Rif Mountains so there is ample time to take in the view. And what a view!

Rolling hills of golden wheat , hay bale stacks, hobbled cattle grazing, ancient olive groves dotting the hillsides, robed men herding goats and sheep, heavily laden donkeys carrying multi-coloured plastic water bottles of water from roadside wells, pink oleander-lined streams, avenues of thick trunked eucalypts, yellow flowering cactus fences, robed scarecrows…

Abdel is our driver, guide and new friend and the hours passed quickly as he told us of his family, Moroccan life, the King, his dreams, to live life before life leaves you, how to haggle for goods – “Leave the shopkeeper angry” – of the madness of radical Muslims -“They are animals! Cous cous in the head!”

Then we arrived at Chefchaouen, the blue town of Morocco which nestles on an edge of the Rif Mountains. The following images trace our stroll through the medina.

For 5 dirham we could sit in this courtyard and have a number one professional photo taken by Abdel. The gatekeeper took my 10 dirham and quickly clamped his fist around it. After all, Abdel had taken two shots.

Chefchaouen family returning from school.

Like youngsters everywhere, they were on the phone.

In the squares of the medina and on walls, were water taps for people to drink from cups on string or fill containers.

Being Friday, the Holy Day, many shops were shut.

We followed the baker delivering loaves to shops.

Another number one professional shot by Abdel.

We climbed the stairs of the Cafe Aladin and had lunch on the terrace.

In the late afternoon on the drive back to Fes, we saw the King of Morocco driving in the other direction. Abdel was disappointed that he hadn’t flashed his lights to ask him to stop so he could speak to him. The King grants wishes here. Can we wish for a better time than we are having?

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