Believe it or not, there comes a point in a semester abroad, where you just don't know what to do anymore. So, you go to Pinterest! Not really, but Chefchaouen is definitely one of the most popular destinations you will see girls posting to their travel boards, not only for Morocco, but for the world. SO the story starts sometime in the middle of the week, I vaguely remember it was probably Tuesday or Thursday because Ellen and I were sitting in the loft in Sodexo having lunch, and we were tring to make weekend plans. We wanted to go to Kenitra, where her grandmother is from, or Rabat and just day trip to Kenitra, but the only affordable AirB&B option was super sketchy. We went back to the drawing board time and time again, before finally deciding on Chefchaouen.
Since Ellen is a bad student, and had already missed a class in Pop Culture in Africa, we couldn't leave on Friday, and decided to get up super earl on Saturday to make the journey to the Blue City. Neither of our Moroccan phones worked anymore, and didn't really know how else to get a taxi, so on Saturday morning, we ventured out of our warm beds into the rain, and went to the front gate, where we were hoping to catch a petite taxi to the taxi station, but apparently they don't sit outside of AUI that early. Luckily, there was a grand taxi there, and when his clients were about ten minutes late, he asked if we wanted him to take us to Fez. With no other option, we said yes, and obviously got ripped off, but it's whatever. Getting to Fez, we went to the CTM station, and ate PopTarts before catching our bus. Once we were on the bus, I remembered I was definitely in Morocco, as we were being thrown everywhere, trying to actually sleep on public transportation, I woke up several times, nearly being thrown out of my seat.
Besides having a lot of twists and turns the closer we got to Chaouen, the ride went fairly smoothly. When we finally got to our destination, we were immediately attacked by one of the tourist vultures because that's not only what happens when you are white, but also when it's just two females traveling. Despite us trying to lose the guy, he got in our taxi with us, without our permission, and ran in front of us when we got out of the cab to find our hostel. "Oh, you're going to love Riad Baraka! It's owned by English people." Thanks, dude. As we were walking he told us we needed to visit his shop later, and insinuated that he dealt drugs. Because obviously, every white person in Chefchaouen is there to smoke weed. By the time we had gotten to our hostel, he was already asking for money, and I just looked at him, and said no. He obviously got angry, and I just started yelling. I had gotten to the point in the semester, where I honestly didn't care to make a scene. I would never see these people again, and I was tired of being treated like a stupid tourist and an uneducated woman. I was indeed a student in Morocco, and I know how it works. I can find my way through back alleys that all look the same. I can order tea. I can find places to go on my own. And most importantly, I know when locals are trying to screw me over. I intently looked at the guy, and said, "Look, we aren't paying you. We did not ask for your help, we didn't ask for you to get in our taxi, and we never asked for a guide of Chefchaouen. I motioned towards Ellen, and said, she has the address and a map, we knew exactly where we were going." After a few eye rolls and pleading, he finally left without spilling any blood in the blue streets.
We went into the hostel, which was absolutely gorgeous. It turns out that it had once been a riad, or a home that basically has an open roof, and British ex-pats renovated it, which was apparently a great deal of work since the streets near the hostel were just for walking, no cars. That meant that they had to move tiles, tools, paint, furniture-everything- there by donkey or cart or by hand. If anyone is ever planning on going to Chefchaouen, I would definitely recommend this hostel, though. Once Ellen and I arrived, though, we had a look around the hostel, going up to the rooftop, and being utterly amazed at the scenery. Not only were the views of the town beautiful, with blue buildings, and winding streets everywhere, but the mountains around the city were also amazing.It was time to go explore, so Ellen and I left the hostel, and grabbed some lunch. The ongoing couscous was my choice of the day. Really, if you're in Morocco for more than a week or so, the food options get really old after awhile. "Would you like couscous, tagine, couscous, or tagine?" I did have a pretty amazing glass of tea, though, so it wasn't all bad. Next, we found our way into the city center, where we were amazed b the prices in Chefchaouen. Everything was so much cheaper here than anywhere we had been in Morocco. So of course, we had to get our kinda sorta oh-crap-we-are-going-home-soon-and-have-bought-almost-nothing-as-souvenirs-slash-Christmas-presents-for-our-families-and-friends gifts. Don't worry, everyone, I knew what I was going to get you...sorta... It hadn't even been that long, and we had already bought too much to carry, so we had to go back to the hostel to drop our things off, and we were planning on leaving again, but it was an early morning bus ride, and we were tired, so we just chilled for awhile. Then, we went up to the roof around sunset to take pictures with the city and just because we have an obsession with sunsets. While on the rooftop, the call of prayer started playing at all of the mosques around me, and it was such a wonderful moment.
For the next thirty minutes or so, we just jung out on the roof talking to other guests as well as the owner of the hostel, Anne. Eventually, one of our friends, who was staying on the rooftop room the night before came up, and she told us that they had just gotten back from a hike that they had been on all day, so we went down to the dormitory that everyone else was staying in, and made a game plan for food. On the wall of reception in the hostel, there was a map of the city painted, and there was one restaurant on the wall that sounded pretty good, called Mandala Pizza. We made our way there, and had amazing meals. I kept it pretty tame, and went for alfredo, but other people went beyond my limits and had goat cheese pizza for the first time in months. Since the food was so awesome and cheap (because it's Morocco), we ordered dessert, and I had an awesome cheesecake, once again, for the first time in months. After dinner, we walked around the square Ellen and I had been in earlier, and prices at the shops had gone up drastically, so we decided to call it a night, and come back the next morning so everyone could get in on the great deals like we had.
The next morning started off with breakfast at the hostel. I had porridge for the first time in my life and tea, of course. After checking out, and paying to leave our bags for the day, we headed back to the square to do more shopping. Already, I had stuffed three lanterns, a rug, two plates, and some smaller things in my backpack, which is not that large to begin with, so I had to be a little more careful about how much I bought on Sunday. Most of the time, I would just be standing outside the shops with our guy friend, and since we were in the square (read, the tourist mecca), people kept coming up to us asking if we wanted to bu marijuana. Literally, I had been offered drugs more in Chefchaouen than any other point in my life.
Exploring the streets some more to find somewhere for lunch, we eventually ran into a fight. See, Chaouen has these beautiful, picturesque streets, with stairs, just what you would picture an old cit to look like, and the shopkeepers keep pottery on the stairs. Apparently, a passerby must have broken a vase, and the shopkeeper was demanding payment. Even in Morocco, you break it, you buy it. Carefully avoiding the scene, but still catching a glimpse of one guy pinned against the wall with the other holding the broke vase in one hand about to shatter it more, we made our way around the block, and to a Spanish inspired restaurant. Sadly, no sangria, though... #MoroccoProblems
After lunch, Ellen and I decided to head back to the hostel to grab our stuff and make it to the bus station to go back to AUI. We were on an earlier bus back to make sure we wouldn't be locked out after curfew or stuck in Fez for the night if something happened to the bus, as public transportation in Morocco isn't always the most reliable. Since we still had plenty of time to get back to Ifrane from Fez, we decided to head over to the mall because we both needed suitcases for our upcoming journeys back to the US. Unfortunately, mine broke shortly after buying it. We also got some delicious pepperoni pizza to eat on the way home before hailing a taxi. At the grand taxi station, we totally got screwed over again by this greasy looking car salesman type. Despite us insisting that the price should be 180 Dirhams, he said he couldn't do any better than 280 because there were only two of us and it was night. It made absolutely no sense, but we had to get home, so whatever.It was a wonderful weekend, although it was super short. Chefchaouen definitely had to be my favorite Moroccan city. In a lot of ways, it reminded me of Europe although we were constantly being reminded we did not look like everyone else. But how can you be blue in a city that is painted with your favorite color? (Haha see what I did there?)
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