NORTHWARD TO CHEFCHAOUEN
My memories of Fez from forty-odd years ago somehow did not
live up to my present day experience. I recall everyday people in the streets,
tiled surprises around every corner, empty palaces that I could wander around,
the color and smells are still vivid. Streets that had baffled in their
exciting and unexpected twists and turns now just caused confusion and
claustrophobia. Even the tanneries – so rich in visual and olfactory memories
failed to stimulate my wizened senses this time. It was lovely to return to our
peaceful riad each time to relax after fighting the hoards of tourist groups
clamoring to photograph a fountain or blocking the view at the gateway of a
mosque.
Upon leaving our riad we requested a wheeled cart or “little
chariot” that is filled with our luggage and pulled by a local youth to our
car. On this occasion as we exited the main door of our riad we were greeted by
a donkey. Our bags were roped on top and off we went.
We drove out of Fez with the usual “Don’t worry it is easy”
directions towards Chefchaouen. Of course we got miserably lost leaving the
city and surreptitiously the road that led us East to Meknes then led us to the
delightful holy city of Moulay Idriss, which we would otherwise have missed.
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Moulay Idriss |
Also we came across a rural area market which afforded us the opportunity to
sample local delights and the friendly hospitality of those who are perhaps
less jaded by city life. When purchasing a loaf of delicious bread for two
dhirams (25cents), I accidently gave the seller three dhirams and he was quick
to return the extra coin.
And, as usual, a three hour journey took seven hours as
wound our way up into the foothills of the Rif Mountains rising through steep
inclines to Chefchaouen, the blue city of Morocco. Chefchaouen medina is much
quieter and more relaxed than the bigger cities that we had so far visited. We
are able to wander through the small blue painted streets without being hassled
and cajoled into every shop that we pass.
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Chefchauoen |
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