Chefchaouen

 We were only supposed to stay 1 night. We had a good time in Marrakech, but we had seen all we needed to see in Morocco. Or so we thought. We got in late at night… a couple boys about 10-12 years old helped us carry our bags once the taxi couldn’t go any further down the narrow blue alleys of the village. We gave them 20 dirham to share and they didn’t argue. When we got to the hostel, the man running the place was high as a kite. Glassy eyes. Cool, calm, and collected. He gave us a key to our double room with two twin beds against one wall with the foot of our beds touching and a little bathroom with a shower. It was all we needed. It was more than we needed. And we were paying 200 Dirham a night… 100/person. (About $12/person) We were laughing our butts off at the place already. We had a good feeling about Chefchaouen…

We were still thinking we would spend one night and leave late the next evening to drive to Tangier and catch a flight to Barcelona. My brother convinced me while I was so close it was something I needed to see. A photographer’s dream. He told me how much he had enjoyed his time there and all about his favorite places so we looked up flights and booked it that evening.

After we got settled in we went to the roof terrace to check out the view and that’s when we met Abdel Jabar. He and his friends were up there having some avocado shakes and chatting about the day. I think they were enjoying some of what the land had to offer as well. They told us all about the Akchour Waterfalls and everything we needed to know/do/see in “Chaouen”. How much to pay the taxis, guides, etc. And that we would definitely need a guide to take us to the waterfall. He wasn’t kidding. 

Abdel Jabar also told us about a place called Sofia’s to eat...The next morning we woke up and started the search through the blue colored walls trying to find Sofias, but we had not been able to find it in the morning for breakfast so we fell upon Munir’s Café instead. And boy, were we glad. Steak, eggs, tomatoes, mint tea. I was a happy camper. And brother, too. And hes the hard one to please ;)

Then we took a petit taxi to the grand taxis where we found another guy going to the waterfalls from Rabat. We decided to split the cab between the 3 of us instead of waiting for 3 more plus the driver to fill it. after 45 minutes winding through the riff mountains, we were at the bottom of the mountain we needed to hike to get to Akchour. We joined forces with Rabat and thought maybe we didn’t need a guide after all… about 5 minutes in we realized we had no idea where we were going. This was no straight shot. Back down to the bottom we went to find ourselves a guide. 50 dirham from the other guy, and 50 dirham for my brother and I. unbeknownst to me, Rabat told the guide to get us up to the big waterfall and as fast as he could. We had been told the hike would be 2-3 hours. After a lot of sweat, blood, and tears (okay, I’m being dramatic), but there was a fair share of yelling, pushing, pulling, sweating, and wanting to quit… We made it… And it. Was. So. Worth it. 

oh and I didn’t go all that way not to get in this damn water… Even though once I sat down for a few minutes I was cold from the breeze of the falls. I had to do it. Id kick myself later if I didn’t. I stood up on the ledge… Braced myself for the cold, Held my breath. And Jumped!  IT WAS SOOO COLD. About 5* Celsius. BRRRRR. My brother took a few pictures before I jumped in, but when I got out and dried off I realized I didn’t take any pictures of me INNNN the water… So back in I went. I screamed like a little girl this time… Knowing what was coming. Ice Cold… But it was cool and refreshing. I felt so good and so proud of myself for hiking up there. And for jumping in the water. And even though I wanted to punch my brother in the jaw for hiking up on my heels and yelling in my ear “GO! FASTER! CMON!!!” more than half the way up… I was so glad he was there. 

We sat to have our first Tajine in Morocco… and boy was it delicious. The veggies were cooked to perfection. I barely even noticed there was chicken in the pot. We chowed. Going back down was much more enjoyable. We talked, I took pictures, we took our time, and enjoyed the beauty around us. B was so disturbed by all the trash. People come to enjoy the park, but they don’t care about anyone else getting to enjoy it. They leave it in shambles. Who knows what the place will look like in 5, 10, 15 years from now. It was so sad how people left their camp grounds.

We got back into town and were desperate for showers and a nap. And honestly, we both would have enjoyed a Hamam ((Read Marrakech by day, if you dare)), but in Chefchaouen the girls can go to the Hamam in the am and boys in the pm or maybe vice versa. But either way, we couldnt go at the same time, so we opted out. How selfless of us.

When we got to the room B checked the status of our flight to Barcelona… We still had a chance to cancel for 100% refund. Flight was canceled. We planned to book again the next day.

That night we found Sofia’s and it was right under our nose all along. We ordered about 100 Dirham ($12) worth of food and it was way too much. We over ate, but it was delicious, we said Hasta Manana to Lucia, the restaurant owner, when we left. We knew we weren’t leaving just quite yet. The next day we wanted to go to the beach. We were pretty sure that was all there was left to do in Chefchaouen. We took a petit taxi to the grand taxi and ventured to Oued Lao Beach squeezed in a 1989 Vintage Mercedes with 5 other people in the car including the driver. We got to the beach and it was quite a disappointment. I definitely take for granted all the beautiful and CLEAN beaches I’ve seen in my life. Oued Lao was covered in trash. It didn’t help that it rained the day before so the rivene right in the middle of town was spitting out off the nasty water right in front of the beach.

We spent a couple hours there, enjoyed some kefta tajine, walked around through the market, bought some fresh fruit, then headed back to Chefchaouen crammed in the backseat of the Mercedes with 5 strangers.

Although the beach day was somewhat of a bust, we still hadn’t had enough of Chefchaouen. We wanted to enjoy the village a while longer. The next day we arranged to have a guide take us to the other side of the mountain to the plantations. Not before having breakfast at Munir’s café, of course.

We ventured over the mountain, both of us with shin splints from the hike two days prior, but were promised this was an easy one. The view from this side of the mountain was spectacular. We could see the entire blue city. Blue is such a peaceful color isn’t it?

Another peaceful color we came across was green.

Lots.  Of.  Green.

Apparently a big reason why the people in Chefchaouen are so much more peaceful than the people in say…. Marrakech has a lot to do with the GREEN.

(im speaking of marijuana)

We were skipping through fields of green. There were horses carrying freshly cut marijuana on blankets over their back. There were women carrying pounds and pounds of marijuana on their back. It was a sight. Marijuana as far as you could see.

Do you get the picture?

If not… Head to my flickr page to get a better idea.

Flickr.com/photos/bmasso

Life was good in Chefchaouen. Simple.

We had a routine.

Breakfast at Munir’s Cafe in the plaza. Lunch was a protein shake from the smoothie shack in the alley by our hostel. And Dinner at Sofia’s. Days were filled with hikes, adventures, the medina, and playing with the kids in town. We were happy. We like routine. Conversations consisted of jokes that we’ll leave tomorrow. And we would be saying that for 6 months to come. We were laughing til we nearly peed our pants every night at dinner. I think Lucia at Sofia’s thought we were taking to the Chefchaouen way and smoking the green. Nope. Just brother n sister. Living the good life in Morocco.

Our daily budget including our hostel, all 3 meals, and the occasional taxi to anywhere new was averaging at $44 USD/day per person. Why would we ever leave? We could live there forever for $1300/month or less once we started cooking our own meals. And if we moved into an apartment it would be even cheaper/monthly than the hostel at $12/night per person. We laughed, and talked, and day dreamed about our lives in Chefchaouen forever. We checked airbnb and where we would live and how we would get involved at the school on the mountain. Live off the land. Happy and Simple.

But after day 6 we decided it was time for a new adventure.

I think we could have both stayed there forever.