Chefchaouen

I love Chefchaouen. But maybe that’s because I got so small a taste, it left me wanting more. Trains aren’t an option and there’s only 2 buses a day. What was supposed to be a 4 hour bus ride turned into 7 hours, which is another story altogether (involving sitting in a 94 degree bus without water for 2 hours, Andalucían piano players, cocaine, and a general test of patience and endurance). I finally arrived around 7pm, found the hotel the travel book had recommended, dropped off my bags, and began to wander in the evening hours. My first thought was that it’s the perfect place for a romantic weekend get-away. It’s tucked away and charming, but bustling enough to not feel completely removed. The tall white buildings throw around the light in the winding, labrynthian, narrow alleyways that glow with all the shadows and shades of blue walls, blue shutters, blue doors…
The main road is lined with shop after shop overflowing with touristy goods which has its pros and cons. The con is that its touristy. The pro is that it’s mostly local artisans who make their wares on cite and are not only super eager to talk with you, but also take pride in showing off their shop and the quality of their goods. It’s a lot more laid back than the big city medinas and doesn’t have the hagglers or the nick-nacky junk you’ll never use. The shop keepers are friendly and patient; one leather sandal maker pulled me into his shop, sat me down, introduced me to all his workers, talked for a good 10-15 minutes, offered me tea, and actually bartered down to a pretty sweet price on a pair of sandals. Which I ultimately declined. You can get pretty good prices here and more variety than some of the city medinas.
Disclaimer: I was thrown off by a kid that walked up to me and said, “hola!” and at first thought maybe just that word had crept into the local tongue. Then a shop keeper gave me a desperately confused look when I approached him in French. Some people speak French here, but about 80% know only Spanish or Arabic. So, if you speak French, good luck bartering. If you speak Spanish, it’s your lucky day.
Around dusk I wandered into the main square to grab a couscous dinner (which was…ehhh) and people watch as the evening call to prayer brought in droves of old men greeting and talking together. I stole a couple shots (just couldn’t resist) and felt like no one cared in the least.
I had to leave early in the morning so I didn’t get much more time to wander, but overall, it’s an extremely quaint (and photogenic) little city perched on the hillside with a huge local presence despite the touristy bits. Kids playing football in the alleys. Old guys talking across shops. Teenagers running to the community water tap. Women hollering across clothes-lines. It’s impeccably clean, well kept up, feels incredibly safe, chill, and encourages you to just breathe, relax, and wander.