The 4 hour bus ride from Fes took us through flat agricultural areas rising into the Rif mountain range where Chefchaouen, the 'blue' city is located.
It was late in the day for the weekly market and there were plenty of bargains to be had.
At the bus stop along the way. You're always not far from a carcass in Morocco.
Choose your bit, get it minced the cooked up on the barbecue next door.
We were met by Said and Hamil, both who speak Spanish* and led us from the plaza to our new home, a few minutes walk up the hillside in the medina. It is lovely. Lots of stairs once again but these ones are more regular and there are no low doorways to bang your head on. Through the front door and up a flight to the first floor lounge and kitchen. Next level two bedrooms, two bathrooms and a salon, next floor is the enclosed terrace and laundry and finally the top terrace with views across the valley, medina and across to the mountains. The house has been very tastefully renovated with local arts and crafts. Once again we have been shown perfect hospitality with explanations about the house, recommended restaurants, welcome mint tea and delicious almond biscuits.
*Spanish is spoken by many locals here due to former Spanish colonisation. There's the Plaza Espana, a church and some road signs are in Spanish. There's also lots of French and English spoken, so much easier for us to converse.
Our font door.
Time to explore! Picture perfect.
Blue doors of Morocco, another page theme for my book.
The herbalist shop.
Walking back to the plaza we were met by a sea of people walking in the opposite direction. It seemed too many to be those exiting the mosques after evening prayer time. Then there was a loud boom. When we did get to the plaza we found out that there had been a special event and the whole village had been there to witness it, the steps to the mosque provided a great vantage point.
Once a year, and only after a dry summer and if the autumn rains haven't happened, water diviners walk for twenty five days through mountain villages performing ritual dancing and music in the hope of making it rain. They carry large bazookas which they shoot into the ground, the sound we had heard. Although we missed the performance I did get to meet with one of the diviners and the locals were keen to help me get a great shot.
The diviners were then gone, they only stay for a very short time in each village, so we were definitely in the right place at the right time. Though they did reappear through the village as we were finishing our dinner up above the square, and let off one more shot for luck. Cue Helen's girly scream.
Evening light changed the blue paint to purple.
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