The calls of probably 5 minarets and echoes off the Rif were
our wake up call. We had a British breakfast handed Our on trays on level 1
which of course we carried to the roof on level 8.
But before even the first call I was up to see the sunrise. Sitting in a bowl of mountains I watched the sun creep over the landscape. Some demented rooster crowded every time a new roof was illuminated.
Anyway breakfast in the early morning and then off to adventure. We made our way through the shopping area and plaza, stopping for pictures at every turn. Every house, every street and wall, is painted white or a shade of light blue. Every tiny alley - and since this is a no motors zone there has been no need to enlarge or widen into streets - twists off into a shadow of blue that pulls you in to see what lies around the next curve. We warded off all shop keepers with a promise to return later and headed as instructed to The Waterfall, site 1 on our tour.
If there's is a waterfall as I envisioned it, or even a String of rapids or a dam, did not exist. This is the desert and it is dry. What was there's was even more fun and equally as refreshing. Where the Water pours out of the rocks direct from the High Atlas Mountains the founders of Chefchaouen put a very small natural dam, only a few rocks and channeled part of the water into a stream for washing and part into a small pool for playing. Where it runs out of the pool is a cement slab that is like a 0 depth pool that is the joy of people everywehrer. No matter how black the long dress and heavy the scarf, There was no resisting wading into the foot numbing cold of the snow run off.
In the washing area lots of scrubbing was being done on built in washboards for that purpose in the same ice cold water.
We climbed often rocks with the local boys, watched the tiny children splash and saw something not found in Rabat: smiles on Moroccan faces. They were on holiday and it was wonderful. So were we and it was.
But before even the first call I was up to see the sunrise. Sitting in a bowl of mountains I watched the sun creep over the landscape. Some demented rooster crowded every time a new roof was illuminated.
Anyway breakfast in the early morning and then off to adventure. We made our way through the shopping area and plaza, stopping for pictures at every turn. Every house, every street and wall, is painted white or a shade of light blue. Every tiny alley - and since this is a no motors zone there has been no need to enlarge or widen into streets - twists off into a shadow of blue that pulls you in to see what lies around the next curve. We warded off all shop keepers with a promise to return later and headed as instructed to The Waterfall, site 1 on our tour.
If there's is a waterfall as I envisioned it, or even a String of rapids or a dam, did not exist. This is the desert and it is dry. What was there's was even more fun and equally as refreshing. Where the Water pours out of the rocks direct from the High Atlas Mountains the founders of Chefchaouen put a very small natural dam, only a few rocks and channeled part of the water into a stream for washing and part into a small pool for playing. Where it runs out of the pool is a cement slab that is like a 0 depth pool that is the joy of people everywehrer. No matter how black the long dress and heavy the scarf, There was no resisting wading into the foot numbing cold of the snow run off.In the washing area lots of scrubbing was being done on built in washboards for that purpose in the same ice cold water.
We climbed often rocks with the local boys, watched the tiny children splash and saw something not found in Rabat: smiles on Moroccan faces. They were on holiday and it was wonderful. So were we and it was.
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