Rosie and The Operator caught the early morning bus from Fes to Chefchaouen, The Blue City, high up in the Riff mountains.
The trip was a revelation of lush green rolling landscape for as far as the eye could see. Every inch of land was planted in crops of olive trees, oranges, wheat and vegetables of all types, no flat ground was spare or wasted.
In the fields the olive and orange trees are planted in straight lines, knee high grass waves in the breeze under them and wildflower poppies added dots of red everywhere amongst the various shades of green.
Small herds of sheep and goats graze the un planted roadsides and steep slopes, each herd has a shepherd holding a long crook, and squats on the periphery watching the flock.
Small family groups were spread out in the fields tending the crops and a small beige block homestead normally stood on the edge of the fields with pens for animals surrounding them.
It was totally an idyllic sight to behold, like you had stepped back in time into a storybook.
But, here it comes, Rosie is going to ruin the story….. only because they have. Everywhere there was a slight ravine or even a dip in the land where crops couldn’t be planted…you know what is coming….there was a rubbish dump. It was shocking! In amongst all that beautiful lush countryside was plastic bags blown out of rubbish holes and caught in trees and plastic bottles and rubbish everywhere along the roadside. There are no controlled rubbish collections here and you can actively see how plastic is ruining the planet because that was the content of the prevailing piles.
The trip went quickly, the higher we headed up into the mountains the narrower the road became, the steeper the banks were above and below the bus and the more frequently we had to avoid old rock falls that had turned the road into a one lane only zone. The fertile pastureland turned into rocky scrub and the small herds of grazing animals with their minder have taken over this terrain.
The peaks of the Riff mountains are in front of us and the cloud is closing in, the temperature has dropped and believe it or not….rain is forecast for later in the day. Rain in Morocco, Serious?! So much for Rosie’s sand dunes and dessert.
We turned off the lumpy bumpy main road and started climbing up into the mountains, the road was down to a single lane on each side and rocky cliffs were towering over us. More slips had closed off the road leaving narrow passages to squeeze through on numerous occasions and the drops as we looked out the bus window were a little vertiginous. The driver knew the way and confidently negotiated the slips and potholes in the road with ease.
The sky was angry and grey as we drove into Chefchaouen, dogs roamed the streets and the city of small box like cubed houses painted blue and white climbed before us up the steep hillside.
The taxi took us as close as we could get to our hotel, the last square before the steep old town started and no cars could fit up the ancient steep, stepped streets. A local guy hustled up to the taxi and offered to carry Rosie’s big bag and show us where our hotel was. Normally we just do it ourselves…well, The Operator does it all, but with memories of confusing Fes so fresh and no idea where we were going and our offline maps not really working in this area of the world…why be stubborn, we needed all the help we could get.
Turns out our hotel was only a couple of minutes’ walk away but it was good not having to hump Rosie’s 23kg bag up 50 steps or so. The hotel owner even made the ‘porter’ carry my bag up the three flights of steps to our room, thank you very much, you deserved your one dollar tip…..Rosie couldn’t pay the guy the going rate of $0.40nz…it didn’t seem right.
Our welcome to The Hotel Koutoubia was fantastic, it is a very simple homely place, more akin to a B&B rather than a hotel. The owner showed us to our spotless small room and then showed us to the communal lounging/breakfast room upstairs which had a fantastic view out of the city. First things first though, we are in Morocco after all, a nice cup of mint tea? Yes please, it was most welcome.
With the ominous grey clouds overhead promising rain Rosie and The Operator wanted to get out straight away and explore. Off we ventured dressed in raincoats and armed with umbrellas.
Straight outside the door of our hotel was a man selling sardines….lets just say he had plenty of friends…all sitting around watching him.
This town was overrun with cats…all the better for keeping the vermin at bay…and every nook and cranny smelled of cat piss….especially when the ran came and fully unleashed the pungent aroma.
At first the rain did not deter Rosie and The Operator….we were in our element wandering around the blue alleyways and streets. Rosie mouth was wide open in awe and her camera was clicking away.
The Operator became quite the Instagram star with his pink umbrella against the blue of the city
This however, is where Rosie is going to leave it for today. Chefchouaen was everything Rosie thought it would be, gloriously photogenic, super friendly with the locals being speakers of good English, and so nice and quiet….compared to the bustling frenzy that was Fes.
Tomorrow we will fill you on the history of this amazing blue city, and of course, why its blue and of course bomb you with blue street photos…cause it’s a photographers dream! Till then!
