Category Archives: Spain

Morocco: blue memories of a perfect day

14 April 2019 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

Good morning Chefchaouen!

If I only knew, that day, when I woke up with the sun, what an amazing day will be…

Who couldn’t have guessed, it started just like any other ordinary day… wouldn’t! I open my eyes to a white and blue room, with hand painted blue furniture and wide blue wooden doors, long blue curtains and a small wrought iron window, nicely carved into the white rough wall. I jumped out of bed losing no second of a morning walk on the streets of Chefchaouen, as its blue shades were becoming brighter and its people were waking up to a beautiful sunny Sunday.

Without any trace of tourists in those morning hours, it felt empty and cosy. Had that rare laid back mood that only small towns have the bliss of having.

I had those streets all for me and I took lots of photos on my way, all the way up to Ras Elma. I was there again but for a different reason than the day before, when I ran to see the best view of the city called the Blue Pearl. This time all I needed was a fresh orange juice, from those oranges kept in buckets filled with cold water. I was the first customer and the owner barely noticed me as he was busy washing oranges by the small wooden table he called his living. A few local Berber women wearing those straw hats with colorful pom poms were arranging the merchandise, the carpets, on a stone wall. They were soon after open for business.

I found my breakfast too, three delicious hot round donuts bought from a local place where a woman was preparing the dough while her husband was frying each piece in a meter wide hot pan, filled with oil. I loved how she puts all three donuts on a blade of dry grass, making a knot before she handed it to me. That’s what I call bio and plastic free. I trusted the locals waiting in line in front and I’m glad I did and so had a perfect traditional local breakfast. I must have been a sight eating with my mouth full and oily hands, sitting against a blue wall, enjoying my breakfast and watching the people passing, since a Chinese woman wanted to take a photo with me. It took me a few minutes to understand what she actually wanted. Well, people…

I don’t know wether was the orange juice, the donuts, the sunny day or the blue streets, but I got a purple idea: I wanted to have photos of myself in Chefchaouen. Was too beautiful not to, though usually I prefer the photos without people, myself including. There was only one slight detail to fix: the photographer. I was there on a solo trip.

With a well prepared Spanish phrase, I went straight to Ahmed, my host.

– Yes, of course, I know the right person. My nephew is a professional photographer and YouTuber…

He smiled and then gave me a complicit look:

– But do you wanna pay?

I got over the initial surprise, since I was rather expecting a “Nop, sorry” answer and assure him I was willing to pay smth… While saying this I was just hoping that Spanish sentence won’t put me now in the situation of having to pay for the services of a professional photographer. I had no budget for that.

Ahmed passed me the phone, it was his cousin, the father of the photographer, who happily spoke French. All was arranged, we were waiting for the photographer to finish his school.

I felt relief, if he was that young, the cost must be decent.

One hour later I was following Ahmed on the streets on Chaouen. I didn’t understand where we were going. I thought all was canceled and he was going to help me take some shots.

We passed through a beautiful piazza with restaurants and terraces and we stopped in front of a house next to.

– My cousin lives here. Come, come.

I now understood where we were. Ahmed introduced me to his family, his cousin and his wife. A little girl was playing on a tablet, ignoring as, as all kids do.

Ahmed left soon but not before he assured me from the open door I was in perfect safety. I didn’t felt other way.

I started to talk to Saniya about her family, her three kids including Ilias, the one we were waiting for to help me with the photos, her studies at the university and how she learned English so well.

Ilias wasn’t coming…

She took me outside to see the terrace. What a view! The mountains and part of the city with its blue houses and the bluest sky above us. Her house was one of the oldest in Chaouen, she said. She took an orange out of the tree there and offered to me. I was so happy to finally have an orange straight out of the tree. It was so terribly vinegar-ish and seeing my face, Saniya brought me some honey on a plate. It was delicious, a little bitter and very dark, made from some flowers in the mountain area.

Ilias still not coming…

Saniya kept excusing herself for his late and tries to keep me entertained. She also calls people that might know where her son went after school instead of coming home, as usual. No answer…. Of course the conversation was great, she was lovely but it was almost the afternoon, my last day in Chaouen, outside was a perfect sunny day and I was indoor, waiting….

Saniya excuses herself for a few minutes and when she comes back she has her arms full of colorful clothes. I looked at her with surprise, not knowing what was her intention or if that had anything to do with me…

And then I saw there were Moroccan kaftans, the most beautiful I have seen, with handmade embroidery, made of silk or velvet.

I entered her game on the spot. I was dying to try those….

We went in a back room, behind two large curtains: all was red inside, big pillows against the walls, all covered in old wool carpets.

– See these? They are very old, more than 100 years old.

I try all the kaftans, one by one, each one is a piece of art and they fit perfectly. Some of those she wore at special occasions, like weddings in her family.

She even brings me some shoes which are the perfect match. Her daughter looks at us with big eyes as we came back in the first room, laughing. She totally forgets about her tablet and comes to look closer as Saniya is trying to arrange a pink light veil on my head.

– I never done it for someone else except myself, you know…

We were laughing and probably making a lot of noise. Her husband comes from outside and looks at us with the biggest surprise, seeing me wearing a long cream kaftan with golden embroidery from neck to waist and long wide leaves ending also in golden embroidery.

– You look like a Moroccan girl now, he sais.

Saniya takes me to see the rest of the house. It is huge, with three levels. Her husband had two moms as his father was married with two women.

– You need a big house for two wives, Saniya jokes about.

We reached the top level and as I entered the room I am stoned: an arch with two columns mark the entrance to the most beautiful room with red pillows and carpets and a broidery ceiling carved in the wall. It can’t be described in words:

I am blown away by this place and I tell her she lives in a palace not a house.

Soon after we hear Ilias arriving home.

He is so surprised to see someone looking so Moroccan.

We took plenty of photos wearing the kaftans and I felt like Sheherezade in a palace.

After I changed back my clothes and I promise Saniya I will be back to kiss her before leaving, when we finish taking the photos on the blue streets. And so we leave, Ilias and I, ready to have some photo fun time.

I found out that he is quite a YouTuber and Instagrammer too, with a serious number of followers and a lot of knowledge about editing videos and photos and all that’s related to social media. He wants to become a journalist and the more time I spent with him I was more and more convinced he will be a brilliant one. He is smart, well educated and with a beautiful character. And he took the best photos I could have ever dreamed I can have in Chefchaouen and helped me discover the most Instagrammable spots in that wonder blue city.

After two hours I had a new friend. We walked all the blue streets, through the bazar and among colourful shops, I bought, of course, my Chefchaouen bracelet (I buy bracelets not magnets) and a bottle of precious argan oil, the beauty miracle of Morocco. We stopped taking photos as I felt I had enough of that for three lives from now. We had a late lunch at one of the restaurants in the piazza, close to his house and we talked about religion, politics, extremists, islam and his future plans. He loves Morocco and plans never to leave it.

– Where else can I get food like this except here?

I couldn’t agree more, there’s nothing like the food from places we call home.

As evening was closer, I said goodbye to Ilias and his parents, insisting that he accepts some money from me as a big thanks for that day. I promised to come back one day to Chefchaouen to visit them. And I thank Saniya for that fantastic day.

I had a henna tattoo in the street and left happy for one last walk through Chaouen, still not sure I was really there or I was dreaming. Still not convinced those streets were really that blue. Too blue to be true!

A night delayed bus took me back that night to Tanger, the initial starting point of my Moroccan trip and the next day, an afternoon flight, back to Madrid. Tanger was nice, old, with friendly people and had its charm of city on the shores of The Med. But after that blue mirage… nothing could impress me much.

Before going back home I had one last stop, long time planned and almost missed because of Ryanair flight delay: Museo del Jamon, in central Madrid, in Sol.

I confess, I behaved as a true foodie and bought a plate of three types of jamon that big that I was ashamed with. But I regret nothing.

So this was Morocco and my beginning of March, this year. Actually a slice of Morocco but the yummiest for me. There’s more to see there and I have to go back.

Next trip: Asia, 2nd time there. Fingers crossed 🙂

Morocco, Spain

Morocco: The Blue Pearl of Chefchaouen

7 April 2019 My Beautiful Places Leave a comment

I got there right in time, after a race on the blue streets, among colorful shops, locals inviting me in their stores, tourists wandering too slow or photographers trying to get the best shot. I was only hoping that was the right direction to the best panoramic view of what is called the Blue Pearl of Morocco, Chefchaouen. I got to the river, crossed the bridge and followed the stairs up. The scent of oranges from the stalls around, selling fresh juice, gave me a boost of energy. Behind a bush of cactuses I saw the sun saying goodbye to that day as its orange light was pouring down on the blue houses of Chaouen, as locals call their home. Ras Elma offered wat was promised: a perfect panoramic view for a gorgeous sunset.

The way to Chefchaouen

I had a blue obsession for a couple of years already: The blue city of Morocco, Chefchaouen. A name I even had difficulties to spell at first. Like many other beautiful places I was, at one point, dreaming about, as Petra or The Great Pyramids, this too seem so complicated to get to. But when there’s a will there’s always a way and so that day came and my plan was done: flying to Madrid, the next day to Tanger, Morocco, both low cost flights and get a cab from there to Chefchaouen. Voila!

Madrid

I love Spain and Madrid makes no exception. Being in its capital for the second time was a joy. And another happy occasion to taste the best ham in the world: Bellota jamon.

I already knew how to get to Sol, the city centre. It was almost midnight when I arrived in Plaza de Cibeles, but the city was so alive. It’s one of the reasons I love it so, for its constant fiesta vibe. I followed the boulevard and then the little cobbled streets where people were partying in small pubs, with tapas and cerveza con limon (beer and lemon juice), towards my hotel in Sol area. As I passed a corned and found the place, I stopped in a Awww moment. The best surprise for that time of the year! After months of cold winter, on March the 7th, Madrid welcomed me with a street full of cherry trees in bloom. Plaza del Angel was truly a corner of heaven. So spring was coming…

The plan was to wake up very early the next morning, to see a little of Madrid before leaving to Morocco. I precisely wanted to get to the very 2 gems I so mistakenly missed during my previous visit. I don’t usually follow the plans when they evolve me being an early bird, still at 9am, my small yellow backpack and I left the hotel and head to that very one spot famous for the best top view of the city: Circulo de Bellas Artes. And so it did, the view was fabulous as the city was waking up in a morning rush, below by eyes, below the clear blue sky of March.

My next wish was Palacio de Cristal, in the middle of Retiro park. I was so close to give up since I didn’t have so much time left. I give it a try, hurried my steps and follow the alleys until I got to this wonderful building, a palace made entirely of glass, mirroring its shapes in the lake in front, where ducks and swans and turtles were enjoying the spring sun. And so I declare this my most favourite place in Madrid.

Hello, Morocco

Lesson learned: never leave without a pen, mostly to countries when you need to complete a visa form. It’s about time I keep this in mind.

Happy Women’s Day, a boy said to me, handing a pink rose. A lady invited me to have some sweets. And so I was beautifully welcomed to Morocco.

Since it took me longer to complete that visa form, because of the missing pen and I was among the last to leave the airport of Tanger, I missed my change to find a big yellow taxi, a shared one. So I start the negotiations in my not so perfect French with the only one left, a 70 years old taxi driver, stubborn as a mule. After 15 minutes I got nowhere so I accepted its price: 60 euro to Chaouen.

I jumped, pretty disappointed, in its old cream Mercedes and so we left to Chaouen, as he called it.

Welcome to Morocco, he said, just like the taxi driver in Egypt, after he scammed me of an extra 5 euro.

I was expecting to see a lot of vast dry lands, instead Morocco, this part of it, was incredibly green, with billions of colorful tiny flowers covering the ground. The air blowing from the open window, messing up my hair, brought scents of grass and early spring. We stopped at one point as the taxi driver wanted me to get a look at what was a beautiful valley between three green hills and a dark lake among them. If seen in a photo, without knowing where it was, I could have place this spot anywhere, but never in Morocco.

We talked about his family, his life in Tanger, his favourite places in Morocco, how Casablanca was not so nice but Marrakesh was great, about Sahara and the Morrocan food.

After 2h of speed driving among green lands, passing through the beautiful white Tetouan and a few other small villages where locals, mostly women, were selling products in small markets and men were hurry to get to the afternoon prayers to the mosques, I started to see the first signs of blue. My excitement was on the rise… Soon after we were in Chefchaouen city centre, a part which looked modern, with new buildings, with cars and people wandering around and most of all, not so blue as expected.

Since my taxi driver didn’t trusted my Google Maps, we wandered around in vain, sent to different hotels by locals that didn’t actually understood where I needed to get to. I soon understood what was happening, meaning I was losing time, and insisted that we follow only my directions. In a few minutes we were close to my hotel, right in front of the entrance gate to the medina, the old town, as they call it.

He pretended he didn’t had any change and I won’t find a place to change money there, thought I insisted we find a money change office since we left Tanger and he kept promising we’ll do that in Chefchaouen. I got really mad for this new scam that cost me an extra 10 euro but all I wanted was to leave this taxi driver for good and go see the blue city I was dreaming about.

Another lesson learned: always change money

My yellow backpack and I were now in the middle of a busy street with not so clear idea where to head to. I was in a very bad mood after that scam. I had to find my hotel in a labyrinth of small streets, according to the map and I already knew Google Maps is not helping in places like this. I tried my chances entering what seem to be a gate, like an arch opening in a stone wall, following many locals and 2-3 tourists. This was like stepping into another world, the blue world of Chefchaouen. In a second, all was blue, all shades of blue. Literally all, wherever I was looking. The old medina blued my mind on the spot, surpassing instantly all what I have previously ever seen in all the photos of this corner of the world. The bad mood was now forgotten as I was getting more and more charmed with every step.

– Where are you from? An old beggar dressed in old grey rags asked me as I arrived in front of him, catching my breath and all smiling. He was sitting at the end of a street made of big cobbled steps, a crossroads of three blue streets, with his back against an old wall, also blue, of course. As the sun rays reached his face half covered in a white beard, lighting the marks left by all the years he had lived, he looked like someone in a Pulitzer awarded photo. He smiled when I told him I have just arrived.

I stopped in admiration for a gorgeous tall blue door, sculpted in a wall and happily, right next to it, I saw the name of the hotel I was looking for. The small square interior yard, with a few round tables and chairs and a little round fountain in the middle, offered, from inside, the perfect view to this old building. It was three levels high, the 4th was the blue sky. Each floor had a surrounding terrace with white columns and a blue door on every side, painted by hand with colorful drawings, a technique that I later found out was specific to this place.

I met my host, Ahmed, who spoke almost 0 English and French. With the 3 words I know in Spanish and many sight we understand each other perfectly.

I wandered the blue streets and it was so incredibly beautiful, I thought I was dreaming. Every corner was a blue little story, with small windows carved in the walls or the beautiful blue doors in all the forms and sometimes even the steps were painted in blue. The only color non matching that blue everywhere were the cats and the kids playing around. I took photo after photo and I couldn’t get enough of this blue everywhere.

I really needed to change some local money to buy some delicious looking desserts I saw, so I left the old town and went to the city centre, where the taxi driver dropped me earlier that day. After 10 minutes of wandering and asking people, I found the exchange. It was just a few meters from where my taxi driver said there’s no exchange in the area. God damn scam.

Now that I had some dirhams in my pocket I realised I really needed to eat and drink something. The tiny slice of pizza from Madrid was long gone and I was very dehydrated too. I follow a small crowded street with a few fast foods and local restaurants. I saw one serving fish. It didn’t look promising but I trusted the TripAdvisor stitcher on its door. I felt a little adventurous to eat fish there but I was starving. I ordered using mostly signs since the owner spoke Arabic only. And I waited for what seemed to me an eternity. I was the only person in the restaurant, so another good sign. Not. I was melting of hunger with little energy left but I almost exclaimed when the owner came back with two big plates, one with rice and fries and another, much bigger, with a large fish, a lot of fried calamaries and 5 little fish. A mountain of food was in front of me! The calamaries was just as delicious and soft as those I had in Vernazza, in Cinque Terre, the best I had in my life and the fish had that sweetness that only fresh and wild fish has, something so rare these days. All seasoned with fresh lime zest. Unbelievable good and I finished all.

I was afraid now that maybe I didn’t understood the price when I ordered. But nop, all that and a big bottle of water was less than 5 euro. I loved Morocco on the spot!

As round as I was, after that huge meal, I wanted to catch the sunset. And I did. I reached the panoramic view point at Ras Elma and caught the sky on fire above the blue city of Chefchaouen. I so wanted to come here and now I couldn’t believe it.

I bought lots of deserts on my way back, home made cakes. At dark the medina was not so spectacular, that blue needed light. I ended up a perfect day with a 10h sleep. I needed it badly.

Next: making friends in Chaouen