View of Chefchaouen from ths Spanish mosque, Morocco
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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. 

Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Place El Haouta, Chefchaouen
Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Chefchaouen

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.

Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Inside the Medina

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.

Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Chefchaouen
Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Chefchaouen

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.

View from Spanish Mosque of Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
View of Chefchaouen from The Spanish Mosque
View of Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Chefchaouen

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.

Hiking above Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Hiking above Chefchaouen
Mint tea and a distant view of  Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Mountain tea

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.

Night time in Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Place Outa El Hamam and Kasbah, Chefchaouen

Local entertainment in Place Outa el Hamam in Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Dancers in Place Outa El Hamam

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.

Place Outa el Hamam,  Chefchaouen, The Blue Pearl of Morocco
Place Outa El Hamam

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….

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