“Shit.”
Aggravated, I continued to rub at my eye as Taylor looked on with concern.
Whatever was in my eye, it distracted me from our beautiful surroundings,
frustrating me to no end. As we walked through the streets of the medina in
Chefchaouen, we took shelter in a café as it began to rain. I batted irritably
at my eye, resigning myself to dealing with it for the rest of the day.
We set off
on our trip to Chefchaouen bright and early. Ignatzia and I were ready to go at
6:10, and by 6:15 had called both of the boys, waking one of them up in the
process. It was yet another narrow victory, this time making it from the taxi to
the bus station with barely enough time to board. Luckily, the bus had been a
few minutes late, and we were on our way to Chaouen.
The bus was
almost completely empty, giving us all free reign to choose our own seats and
stretch out in the early morning sun. I napped for maybe an hour, but then the
whole ‘morning person’ thing kicked in, and I alternated reading from my book
and watching the countryside.
As we drew
closer to Chefchaouen, the terrain grew increasingly rugged as the Rif nudged
into view. We passed a forest of pine trees, and mundane tasks such as a land
surveyor and people going into town, donkeys loaded down. A small cemetery was
tucked in between two hills. The final approach to Chefchaouen had me staring
out the window, book completely abandoned.
Disgruntled
mountains buried their heads in the clouds, grumbling like old men in djellabas.
Their sides were spotted with scrubby bushes and scraggly trees. It wasn’t
raining in Chefchaouen yet, but we had passed rainclouds on the way and it was
clear that it would be raining by afternoon.
The town
itself was like something out of a movie. A lonely mosque stood watch over the
town, separate from everything else. The buildings were almost entirely in
various shades of blue. The edge of town was marked by a bizarre sight: a door
and a piece of a wall, standing alone. The house the door had once been a part
of was gone, but the door and its jagged wall still stood.
As soon as
we got off the bus (after some miscommunication with the people getting ON the
bus), a man immediately approached us to tell us about how wonderful the Hotel
Souika was. Fortunately, we’d heard from friends who had already gone that this
was a good place to stay. We followed the man up a steep hill and past some
beautiful murals, winding our way through the medina. We eventually came to an
entrance leading to a beautifully tiled lobby. The door was beautifully made, a
deep blue, and the staff were friendly. For 60 dirham each (about $7), we were
able to get a room for four. The hostel had various gathering-places, and books
left by travelers were stacked about.
That first
day, we went to the medina, where my eye became irritated by something. Despite
this, we had a great time walking around the medina. Everything was in soothing
shades of blue, and the merchants weren’t as aggressive as in Fes. When it
rained we stopped for coffee and tea, and thereafter continued to wander the
medina. We found a small shop recommended by friends who had gone before, where
we got wonderfully warm blankets and some awesome shoes.
Upon
returning to the hostel, we ran into three travelers – an Australian, a Dane,
and a Japanese woman. We went out to dinner with them, and had tea on the top
floor of a restaurant in the middle of the medina thereafter. It was really fun
getting to know them, and I discovered that I remember more Japanese than I thought
I did!
That next
morning we woke up early to go climb around in Akchour, just outside of
Chefchaouen. After a taxi ride through some more gorgeous countryside, we set
out to find a waterfall. First, however, we had to evade the obnoxious “tour
guide,” who insisted that the path we were taking would not lead to God’s
Bridge, waterfalls, or anything of value. Of course, for the low price of 100
Dh, he could take us to the best sights! Imagine our luck!
After losing
some time dealing with that guy, we took the path towards God’s Bridge. Of
course it was there, despite the guy’s insistence that it was not. We reached
God’s Bridge after maybe forty minutes, perhaps taking a bit longer because Nic
had to climb every climbable rock along the way, and I had to stop sometimes
because hiking is not my forte. But we made it to the bridge, and stopped to
eat some baguettes with cheese. We decided to retrace our steps and take a
different path, this one leading to the waterfall.
The
waterfall path felt like something out of a tropical forest. We ducked under
foliage and walked side by side with miniature rivers, often stepping over
them. It took a while, but we found a
waterfall of sorts with a swimmable area. Nic went ahead to try and find the
bigger, cooler waterfall, but the rest of us stayed behind to mess around where
we were.
The water
was absolutely FREEZING. I’m talking, lung-constricting, can’t-feel-my-feet,
why-did-we-decide-to-do-this cold. It was gorgeous, though, which made it
worthwhile.
After a
brisk walk back to meet our taxi driver, we found out that he’d broken down
with a flat, and ended up waiting some twenty minutes for him anyway. So much
for our haste. Luckily we were able to get back to Chefchaouen, check out from
the hostel, buy some food, and make it to the bus station with plenty of time.
The bus
ride back was the bumpiest ride I have ever experienced. I don’t think it could
have been more uncomfortable if the bus driver was trying (and I’m not
convinced that he wasn’t!). But, as should be clear, we made it back alive, and
it was one of the best trips I’ve had so far in Morocco.
We’re going
to Spain on Wednesday night, and will be spending four or five days there,
mostly in Granada. Expect more after that!
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