Tangier and Chefchaouen

Storyline: Highlights of Morocco

All set to begin our tour. The minibus, our main home for the next 13 days, is loaded and we are settled in. I’m wearing all my layers and it would be so every morning till the end of the trip. It was rather chilly in the mornings.

One of the things that surprised me was that the sun didn’t rise until after 8am. When we left the Casablanca hotel it was still dark. And rush hour of course.

Traffic was horrendous and chaotic. By the time we left the city it was already light. The first 5 hours drive to Tangier was pretty uneventful. Being all jetlagged we dozed most of the way. After busy and dirty Casablanca, Tangier looked very clean and pretty.

It is the most European-looking city, at the western entrance to the Straight of Gibraltar. Founded as early as 10 century BCE, for most of its long and rich history it hasn’t even been Moroccan territory. Portugal, Spain, England, and even international affiliations can be named in modern times. Berbers are probably the first inhabitants and it is said that Carthaginians developed it as a port around the 5th century BCE.

Tangier has been, and is, the European gateway to Africa. It is just a short ferry ride away from Spain. And there is a bullet train that will take you to Casablanca in about 2 hours.

The city definitely deserves more than the 2-hour tour we had after we first stopped for lunch. To our surprise, our first official Moroccan lunch was actually Lebanese.

Alex and I shared a tabbouleh and a paella, an interesting combination, since the first originates from Lebanon and the origin of second is attributed to the Moors in Muslim Spain.

The local Tangier guide walked us through the Medina, a lively and interesting place with souks, casbahs, dars, some functioning as luxurious hotels, etc. It was all so new to us that most of the narrative was lost between the attempts to take a photo or two as we go and trying to follow him as we listen.

One thing I remember from this walk was the symbolism of the 3 balls on the top of every mosque minaret. They represent the peaceful coexistence of Islam, Christianity and Judaism, we were told by our guide. However, there are about 1% of Christians and even fewer Jews in Morocco.

After the walk it was time to head out for Chefchaouen, the famous blue city. We’d learn the next day that it wasn’t always blue as it is today.

The road wound up the Rif Mountains, passing by a series of reservoirs before we made our final bio-break and coffee stop in a café (Sed Naghala) with panoramic views of the mountains.

By the time we arrived in Chefchaouen it was already dark. Sun sets around 6pm at this time of year. What a lovely hotel just outside the medina, whose main square was about 100 meters uphill.

Beautiful mosaic fountain between reception and dining area, beautiful cushions on the sofas, lovely decorated stools around absolutely stunning inlaid tables….

Our room was also very colourful with an ornately carved bed, painted ceiling and funky bathroom. I’ll say it again: “Attitude is the difference between an ordeal and an adventure”.

We all loved our rooms and the hotel, but apparently there were complaints about showers, light, breakfast etc. We knew from the beginning the breakfasts in most places will be basic, hotels would not be to Western standards, but what matters after all is the experience and understanding of the local culture.

Breakfast for our group was to start at 7am, a time apparently too early for the locals. I was usually the first down each morning, needing my coffee before I could eat. The two mornings we were there, I had to wake up the guard, who was also the one preparing or sooner bringing out the “breakfast” – well-wrapped plates with all kinds of bread and pastries, jam, olives, tomatoes and cucumbers (these would be missed in more rural places).

The guy was sleeping on the Arabic style sofas (I wish English had the proper name for these beds with cushions). I’d go down in the dark at 7am and try to find a light. The first morning I was surprised that no one was at reception and as I was trying to find a light switch somewhere, I noticed someone sleeping in the dining area. Good morning, I said, but I am not sure he understood me.

He got up and started banging around the kitchen, while I was using the wifi. He began bringing the plates and I asked for coffee. He pulled out the coffee pots and all this was done still in the dark. I got my coffee and a cookie while still waiting for light. After a while I heard the first call to prayer. I think the guy turned the light on after that. By then it was almost 7:30am.

I knew better for the next morning when I just went in the dining room woke him up and asked for light and coffee.

After checking in, Said walked us uphill to the medina. Many restaurants, cafés and stores on the square just before the medina entrances. As we walked up the street, he pointed to a restaurant that serves alcohol.

Guess where the group chose to eat? Poor Said had to cancel the reservation he had made for us at a “dry” restaurant on the square. It was well past our (Alex’s and mine) dinner time, so we walked around for a while and ended up sharing two light deserts from a small shop before calling it a day.

The following afternoon, when we had returned from our Rif Valley hike (see next post) we had some free time to explore the small Medina.

We wandered through the blue-hued small, winding streets and alleys, past the many tourist-oriented shops close to the big square, politely declining the many offers to buy carpets, clothing and trinkets.

It became clear that if we more than glanced at a product, we were assumed to be ready to buy. And the vendors were polite, though very persistent.

The Medina is built on the side of a hill, and our wanderings first took us uphill. So it was natural to start heading down when we wanted to return to the square.

Down, unusually, seemed a lot further than up. We eventually had to ask how to get out and were pointed in what we hoped was the right direction.

Emerging onto the street, we found that we had indeed walked further down than up. We were in fact directly across from our hotel, 100 metres downhill from our starting point in the main square.

Did I mention that Chefchauen’s medina is small? If we could get so easily lost here, how might we survive in the huge medina of Fès, our next stop?

We then walked back up to the main square to find a place for a drink and a few bites. As we walked by the patios, many restaurant staff tried to sell us their place by showing us their menu (they all had pretty much the same selection). We wanted to get up to a particular lovely terrace that had been recommended by some of our group, so politely declined a dozen of them. One of them showed us how to get to this evasive terrace – the terrace faced the square but the entrance was on a street behind.

We walked up many stairs and levels of this restaurant to the last terrace. The good spots were all taken, and the kitchen was closed. We took a few photos and decided to take the second-best terrace on the square, the restaurant next to it.