Just back from a weekend in Chefchauoen, where is had a very wonderful birthday. Thank you to all the FB friends for the greetings! It was a magnificent day.
We left Friday after lunch (because Friday is always couscous and no one misses that!) and road 5 hours north and east to the Rif of the atlas Mountains. The first 4.45 hours were interesting, to see the tiny villages and farms where there were not cars to trucks. All transport and all farming was done by donkey. Small flocks of sheep still grazed With the lone shepherd and stick in the only shade available. Then into the foothills, bulging out of the red sand and scrub gradually. Along the way we picked up Morrocans. Chefchauoen is a big vacation place for the locals.
About the time dusk turned to dark we rounded a corner of a hill and the entire bus - all nationalities - gasped. Perched on the side of the mountains, cradled in the crack between two, was a cluster of fairy lights in the midst of nowhere. Chefchaouen
We managed a cab since the walk is straight up and got to the medina. In Chefchaouen it is more than shopping. It surrounds the old city and a huge plaza and is the center of life. Still a steep climb through the crowded stalls to the hotel Riad Baraka, run by some Brits. Since we were traveling with my roomie from Liverpool who spoke the language, we were quite safe.
When they say traditional decoration they mean in the best Disney sense of the term. Every surface and wall and even the ceilings had murals and paintings. Even the floor was covered with starts and crescent moons. It is the best of what the tourists expect of Morocco and very charming.
Stairs up were like climbing the inside of a cathedral row, narrow and twisting. 4 flights to the room. 5 to the share a bath and shower. 6 to the terrace. 7 and 8 to the top terraces. And what a view. That night we were surrounded by the lights of the village and the possibilities of tomorrow. We collapsed into our Moroccan blanket covered beds.
We left Friday after lunch (because Friday is always couscous and no one misses that!) and road 5 hours north and east to the Rif of the atlas Mountains. The first 4.45 hours were interesting, to see the tiny villages and farms where there were not cars to trucks. All transport and all farming was done by donkey. Small flocks of sheep still grazed With the lone shepherd and stick in the only shade available. Then into the foothills, bulging out of the red sand and scrub gradually. Along the way we picked up Morrocans. Chefchauoen is a big vacation place for the locals.
About the time dusk turned to dark we rounded a corner of a hill and the entire bus - all nationalities - gasped. Perched on the side of the mountains, cradled in the crack between two, was a cluster of fairy lights in the midst of nowhere. Chefchaouen
We managed a cab since the walk is straight up and got to the medina. In Chefchaouen it is more than shopping. It surrounds the old city and a huge plaza and is the center of life. Still a steep climb through the crowded stalls to the hotel Riad Baraka, run by some Brits. Since we were traveling with my roomie from Liverpool who spoke the language, we were quite safe.
When they say traditional decoration they mean in the best Disney sense of the term. Every surface and wall and even the ceilings had murals and paintings. Even the floor was covered with starts and crescent moons. It is the best of what the tourists expect of Morocco and very charming.
Stairs up were like climbing the inside of a cathedral row, narrow and twisting. 4 flights to the room. 5 to the share a bath and shower. 6 to the terrace. 7 and 8 to the top terraces. And what a view. That night we were surrounded by the lights of the village and the possibilities of tomorrow. We collapsed into our Moroccan blanket covered beds.
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