Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl Of Morocco
It’s funny how habits change when alcohol is taken out of the equation. With no bars to explore or beers to imbibe, our evenings come to an earlier end, and, as a consequence of bedtime creeping forward, morning comes round more quickly too.
I wake around 5:15 on our second morning in Chefchaouen, darkness still edging its battle with dawn. A distant call to prayer drifts up from the town below, within minutes joined by many others, muezzins at different tones, discordant yet haunting, mournful yet evocative, echoing off walls and off the mountains themselves, growing in number until it’s impossible to work out whether I am listening to five of them or fifty. It’s a sound which never fails to stimulate the travel bug, one which always speaks of distance from home.
I try to wake Michaela, she too loves this sound, but she’s not able to surface, sleep still too deep. The calls slowly quieten until the last one is gone, only the cockerels break the peace of first light now. Towering over the town, the Rif Mountains gradually take shape as darkness recedes and the first rays of sun creep around the rocky peaks.
When we were first told about Chefchaouen – by a dental receptionist in Ramsgate, as it happens – only a few weeks before this journey began, our interest was piqued, and just the smallest amount of research placed it firmly on our to-do list. Getting here means a bit of doubling back later in the Morocco journey, but even on day two it’s already clear that it’s well worth the effort.
Known as “Morocco’s blue pearl”, Chefchaouen creates quite a beautiful sight, its blue and white houses draped down the foothills of the Rif Mountains alongside the fresh waters cascading from the springs high above. It’s a stirring sight from many angles, but none better than when we take a hike past the Spanish Mosque and up into the mountains beyond. Part way up, we lean on a wall for a while just gazing at the amazing view.
The hiking trail is through rugged, boulder-strewn country, hardy plants clinging to the dusty ground on land which looks broken, or maybe unfinished. Mountain views upwards are rivalled for splendour by the views of Chefchaouen below. High on the mountain a group of children play in the dust beside their home; their father calls us in and makes “mountain tea” for us just as we’re thinking we may run short of water, its tannin-rich dryness tempered by mint and thyme.
Down in town, the centre of Chefchaouen is huddled around the impossibly gorgeous medina, tiny alleys twisting around tight corners and up and down steep cobbled slopes. The colour blue absolutely dominates, creating just the most picturesque alleys imaginable, the greens of potted plants and the rainbow of multi-coloured textiles playing beautifully with the azure backgrounds. There the scent of leather goods, here snatches of steaming tagines or the sharp sweet spike of mint tea, occasionally the enveloping aroma of freshly baked bread. Everywhere the sound of choppy Arabic chatter, the lively sound of deals being done.
But this is a million miles from the tourist traps of the likes of Marrakech. Not one shopkeeper tries to snare us in, not one person trots out the “come in, only for today looking is free” or “very good price” lines heard so many times before. Nobody thrusts tacky key fobs our way, no one tries to make henna patterns on Michaela’s hands. This is that rarest of places: a calm and reserved medina.
There is though no escaping Chefchaouen’s biggest allure, its blue painted architecture – this place is so incredibly photogenic that Michaela tends to move roughly four feet at a time before stopping for another unmissable shot. I can’t say I blame her, you could fill a hundred albums with the scenes here. Oh, and there are cats literally everywhere, from fluffy young kittens to pleading-eyed charmers to big bruisers who know far too much about scavenging. This town is such a veritable feline colony that we wonder if TS Eliot once passed this way.
It’s a long way down the hill from our home at Casa Familia to the heart of Chefchaouen, and the harshest of climbs back up. “Don’t walk up”, Mehdi had said when we arrived, “get a taxi. Don’t ask the driver how much, just give him 10 dirham and say goodnight”. He’s right, too – it works every time, each driver is happy with that single coin. To give perspective, it’s roughly 13 dirham to the £. Nobody’s going to climb hills when taxis are as cheap as that. Well Michaela certainly isn’t, anyway.
With such tiny fares, taxi etiquette is a little different. For one, don’t be afraid to hail a cab with a passenger already in it, the cab drivers are happy to double up on paying customers, but, by the same token, don’t be surprised if someone else climbs into your taxi half way home. Such a low grade economy also evidently means that most taxi drivers put off repairs for as long as possible – we ride in some, shall we say, “fun” vehicles which give every impression that if they do actually make it up the next hill, it’ll be the last one before they disappear into the taxi graveyard.
Chefchaouen has a number of places where people meet but we’re learning that the best place to be at night is the square next to the kasbah. It’s a convivial place with several restaurants, a lively atmosphere and the occasional group of musicians and performers of traditional dance. The real challenge of going to this square is finding it in the first place. So bewildering are the labyrinthine alley ways of the medina that any sensible approach to navigation is impossible, we just have to keep turning corners until eventually we’re there. We haven’t taken the same route twice yet.
Of course we are by no means the only tourists enjoying evenings by the kasbah, but it’s very noticeable that Muslim dress far outweighs any other style, it seems these locals are a gregarious bunch, heading out to meet for tagines, sip tea or just sit and chat. This camaraderie is, of course, all without alcohol. Michaela is coping comfortably with that particular culture change, in fact she’s more than happy to be taking a break. My metabolism is adjusting more slowly, and when we return to town from our mountain hike, I have to pretend, just for a moment, that the mint tea is a foaming pint of golden throat charmer. It doesn’t work.
Mehdi’s brother says he has a friend who will rent us a car for a day. Deprived by circumstances of our own set of wheels, we head down to the friend’s office, ready to make a delayed start on Morocco’s mountain roads….
31 Comments
Helen Devries
Now I’m intrigued to know how you will get back! Doesnt sound as if a local taxi will do the job…
Phil & Michaela
Well that’s been a regular subject of discussion these last few days…
Monkey's Tale
It looks and sounds as if Chefchaouen is what everyone hope Marrakech will be, bit no longer is. The amount of blue is incredible, and what I had hoped to see in Jaipur, but didn’t to that extent. I’m not with you on the 4:30 am calls though, I prefer to sleep. 😊
Phil & Michaela
😃 ah but I bet you agree that the sound is evocative
Monkey's Tale
Yes, true, but at 4 am they’re not always good feelings!
MrsWayfarer
I always want to go to Morocco and wondered which places to stay in. I’m putting this in my list.
Phil & Michaela
Well places like Marrakech are very exciting but also manic, Chefchaouen would be a much more gentle introduction
Chrones
Just love the door pictures I get the scent of the tea and always love the call sound. What a great description. I’m in Bath Charles in Thessaloniki. Hugs to you.
Phil & Michaela
Enjoy! Bath is lovely, Thessaloniki one of our favourite cities. We hope you are both having your fair share of independent fun…
Lookoom
Looking at the photos of Chefchaouen, I thought that on the whole the houses were authentic and not just there to please the tourists. You confirmed this quite rightly in your comments. If only this could serve as a lesson to other places that are too pushy.
Phil & Michaela
Well I think they’ve probably enhanced the blue effect since the town has become better known by travellers, but the original adoption of blue was indeed long before it was “discovered”. There’s some dispute over what was the original reason for the colour, but at least its origins were genuine and not a marketing ploy!
Marie
I was with you every step of the way here and I recognise many of the scenes – even some of the doors!! Isn’t it just the loveliest place in which to wander a while. Your photos are wonderful – such colour!
Phil & Michaela
It really a stunningly visual place, isn’t it, Marie. Excellent start to the Morocco leg of this trip.
Marie
Looking forward to hearing all about it
grandmisadventures
wow, what an beauty of a city- I just love the layers of blue in the buildings and I’m sure in person they are all the more stunning 🙂
Phil & Michaela
It’s as stunning as it looks in the photos!
normareadtalktalknet
What an incredibly beautiful and fascinating place wonderful photos
Phil & Michaela
You’d be wowed by the vivid colours, Norma x
Latitude Adjustment: A Tale of Two Wanderers
Visually inspiring!
Toonsarah
Chefchaouen looks every bit as stunning as I would have hoped it to be! And what a bonus to find there is no hassling in the media- it’s the one thing that always detracts from a visit to Marrakesh and other similar places. I’m with you on the early call to prayer but Chris is never so impressed 😃
leightontravels
Yup, this hasn’t disappointed. It looks fantastic and the blue really comes through, unlike several so-called coloured cities that come to mind. You’ve captured some lovely moments here, from the kids and the adorable cats (we’d be all over this aspect) to the tea break, the doorways, the dancers and beyond. This is definitely on our list, good enough for TS Eliot…
Phil & Michaela
It’s a cat lover’s heaven, apart from all its other attributes…
WanderingCanadians
Chefchaouen looks so picturesque with all those blue and white buildings. Your pictures of all the various buildings and doors are gorgeous. And as someone who loves cats, I thoroughly enjoyed your pictures of some of the cats you saw as well.
Phil & Michaela
Michaela kept having to stop to take photos, I kept having to stop to cuddle cats!
wetanddustyroads
What a beautiful place Chefchaouen is – the blue and white are striking (I love that view from the Spanish Mosque). I’m sure the mountain tea was a special treat – it will take great imagination to turn that picture into beer. Oh, and I love the stunning doors (and the cats)!
Phil & Michaela
It was indeed beautiful, and the hike well worth it. Cats are simply everywhere in every Moroccan town.
Born to Travel
Stunning photos.
rkrontheroad
I absolutely loved Chefchaoen. Enjoyed revisiting through your eyes.
Phil & Michaela
Such a picturesque little town
Laura
What an utterly charming place- it reminded me of how I felt taking photos in Chora (Mykonos Town), where I could hardly take a few steps without snapping a photo of another picturesque alleyway. This experience seems far superior, though, without the throngs of tourists! I am curious to research why the blue was chosen as a recurring colour in the town!
Phil & Michaela
There are differing views on that, Laura. Some say it was started by the Jewish community, others say that whatever the origin, it gave the villagers a sense of identity, something which is much liked by the people of Morocco. It’s very charming though, even if it’s probably been a little enhanced by the tourism element.