Random Sights on a Sunday Run

One of the many things I love about Barcelona is the random processions and fiestas that we always seem to encounter by accident. This city is perfect for spontaneous spirits.

Last week, on a Sunday afternoon run along Barceloneta, I came across what seemed like a celebration of South America- Bolivia dancers, Colombian dancers and many more were swirling and clapping in wonderfully colourful costumes twice their size. An unexpected Sunday treat!

Frustrated in Fes, Chilled in Chefchaouen...A First Foray Into Morocco

I have to admit it; I am addicted to Skyscanner. Back in October, when I knew that I had a week off in February, I went on the flight comparison website as fast as I could, to find the cheapest flights I could. Fes, for €44 return? Erin and I booked those up straight away, booked a few hostels before we knew what we were doing, and forgot about it for a few months. But then February crept up on us, and before we knew it, we were boarding our umpteenth Ryanair flight and were on our way to a new continent.

I had done the minimal research about Morocco; from what friends had told me before, I knew that it had delicious food, that it had a reputation for hassling vendors, and that it had a mild obsession with tea. This was definitely going to be a challenging holiday, rather than a relaxing one- more like "travelling"- and for that reason alone, I couldn't wait.

We arrived into a drizzly Fes, to a man holding a crumpled sheet of paper baring my hand-written name. I always find the immediate area around airports fascinating; 10 minutes in and we seemed to be in an 80s Spanish holiday park, 10 minutes later we were in a busling modern city that could have been anywhere, and 10 minutes later we had arrived into the heart of the medina.

The front of our riad, Dar Rabha. 

For such a cheap price, Dar Rabha seemed very grand. We were offered free Moroccan tea, as is typical Moroccan hospitality. After we dumped our bags in our communal dorm, that's when the fun and games really began.

Imagine the most complicated maze you have ever been in. Full of dead ends, roads that look exactly the same. Then add the inability to ask for directions without being directed into a shop, a complete lack of street names, and a farmyard odour. That is Fes' medina- the world's largest, and probably most confusing. On the outskirts are a series of gates to help
you orientate, though I honestly think tourists are beyond help in this labyrinth. We were given a hand-drawn map by our hostel, but without street names, as well as male loiterers on every corner waiting to heckle us, it was pretty useless. Saying this, I must have been imagining the worst before coming to Morocco, as we didn't get hassled as much as I thought.

The awesome camel burger at Cafe Clock.

We found a place on Tripadvisor that looked like it would offer minimal harassment, Cafe Clock, and saw that it was only 5 minutes away- perfect. Thirty-five minutes later, and we were still looking for it- we must have circled the same souks a dozen times. Eventually, we saw a little sign pointing to a narrow alleyway. There are many places Morocco where two solo females would feel uncomfortable relaxing for a few hours, but Cafe Clock was very tourist friendly. I usually stay away from tourist traps, but we needed it after our first- but definitely not our last- experience of being lost in the medina. Two teas, one camel burger (a little tough, but saved by the herbs) and one lamb tagine later, and we were ready to face the maze again.

Having already become addicted to Moroccan tea- I blame the copious amounts of sugar that they put in them- we decided it was time to stop at another cafe. This time, Le 44, another Tripadvisor recommendation. As we approached, we saw that the door was closed...strange, in the middle of the day, but maybe it was closed? Then we saw the sign on the door, telling us to ring the bell, which we did a little suspiciously. However, as soon a lady opened the door to us and led us into her cafe, all trepidation melted away...a lovely high-roofed, white-washed riad, which we seemed to have to ourselves. Bonus points were immediately given when the owner handed us the wine and beer list...just as Erin and I thought it was going to be impossible to find alcohol in Morocco. At this stage, I would like to emphasise that we found the alcohol by accident, and we did not go searching for it...before my reputation precedes me! Before a few glasses of wine (which turned into a bottle when we heard the rain lashing down on the glass roof), I made sure to try the intriguing avocado juice that I seen advertised. As an avid avocado fan, and determined tryer-of-all-weird-sounding-foods, I gave it a go...and, after getting over the strangeness of drinking guacamole, actually enjoyed it.

Two steaming hot teas at the Barcelona Cafe.

As we had an early start the next morning, and a quick tea in the Barcelona Cafe (lovely tea and ambience- rude waitress), we decided to call it an early night. Of course, we got lost- a bit frightening in the dark- but we managed to somehow find our way back. We briefly met our dorm-room mates- two Germans, and a 70 year-old American who was not too keen on talking with us, for whatever reason- before crashing out.

Erin chilling in the Barcelona Cafe...home away from home in more than name!

Now, there are many downsides to an early start in a dorm-room. Early starts are not particularly pleasant anyway, but are always made a little more difficult when you have to gather your stuff quietly in the dark. Many early starts over the years of travelling have meant that clothing have been left behind along the way- and sadly, Fes was no exception. One of my Adidas trainers decided it didn't want to come to Chefchaouen with us, and so hid under my bed.

We, luckily, managed to get ourselves on the road to Chefchaouen, starting with an experience of the Old Town bus station- or should I say, rough-and-ready local hangout. This was where we first began to notice the djellaba- a long hooded robe with a pointy hood, sometimes stripey, sometimes dark brown- that all the men wear. Later on, we read that the brown robes are reserved for bachelors. Our bus journey itself- for all those reading this wanting to take the bus journey, it is 4 hours, 75 dirham, and with CTM- was on a comfortable coach, and was fairly non eventful. We wound through gorgeously green mountains, and stopped a few times to give everybody a 'meat' break. The incredible barbecue smell and sizzle from the street meat was very tempting, but we decided to wait to see what Chaouen would offer us.

Another djellaba that we spotted.

Chefchaouen really is one of the most spectacular cities to enter- hundreds of white buildings dusted with a blue hue...almost too pretty to be real. This ethereal blueness is due to the Jews who fled from Hitler's growing empire to Chefchaouen, and then proceded to paint their homes blue.

Sadly, the weather was as blue as the city...it started to lightly rain as soon as we stepped off the bus. We'd made the intelligent decision to arrive into the city with no cash, so we were left with only one option- walk uphill and try and somehow find our way to the hostel. Luckily, we stumbled across a Tourist Information board, equipped with a Moroccan man that had both beautiful eyelashes and directions to our hostel.

Riad Baraka was a great place to spend two nights- more of a backpacker-vibe than the first one, with its English owner, but a much cosier atmosphere...especially when enjoying the rose and white wine that they had on offer. Like I said before, it was an accident that we found this alcohol! Our room on the middle floor was a little chilly- we could see our breath when we spoke- but we were still able to get a good nights sleep with the warm blankets they provided.


In spite of the everlasting rain, we still managed to have a great time in Chefchaouen. Our top five highlights were:

The pile of wood that our hammam was hidden behind....
this wood helps to heat the water

1. The hammam- Upon hearing the phrase 'Moroccan spa', both Erin and I imagined a typical jacuzzi scenario, perhaps with some Moroccan soaps to lather ourselves with. When we arrived at the hammam- the modest door difficult to find at first behind a ten-foot high pile of wood- we were confused about what to do. It looked like a public pool's changing rooms, and the lady behind the counter did not want to understand our Spanish. Surprising, considering that it is actually widely spoken in this part of Morocco. Anyway, we eventually were able to pay our 13 dirham per person, changed out of everything except our knickers, put our clothes behind the counter, and went into the next room. There, we entered what seemed like a giant wet-room- women were sitting on the floor, scrubbing themselves with loafer-mittens and 'salvo' soap (similar in colour and consistency to beeswax), then pouring warm water over themselves.

As we positioned ourselves against one wall, we were suddenly given a bucket and little scooper each by a topless lady, who we presumed must work there. So, there was nothing really left to do but scrub, scrub, scrub- every inch and every crevice (ahem) of our bodies. The latter seemed to be a major part of the massages that we had opted out of- the ladies receiving these looked like they got a very thorough cleansing!

So, well worth the experience- your skin will feel silky smooth after, and it's the perfect activity for a rainy day. Here is a DIY hamman toolkit. You need: salvo soap (Riad Baraka provided this for us, but it is easily bought in nearby shops), a loafer mitten (you will see these dangling from every shop- make sure you test the roughness to make sure you're not going to injure yourself when you scrub!), shampoo, conditioner, a towel, a spare pair of knickers, enough money to pay (13 dirham each for entrance, around 80 each with a massage as well), and, of course, a willingness to be topless in front of other ladies. Topless sunbathing on Spanish beaches put us in good stead for the latter...

2. Restaurant Assaada- Not only was this restaurant stumbling-distance from our riad- not to be taken for granted when it doesn't stop raining- but it also had some of the best and cheapest food we had on the whole trip. We were shown to a modest room with two tables, and just one other Spanish couple in there. A smiley man in a djellaba then told us about the special- a Moroccan salad, a tagine, a dessert and a tea for only 45 euros- that's €4.50! Definitely worth a visit when you're next in Chefchaouen- it is the perfect introduction to Moroccan food.

Cous-cous at Restaurant Assaada. Just as delicious as the tagine!

3. Restaurant Bab Ssour- Our culinary highlights were definitely in Chefchaouen. This restaurant is a firm favourite on Tripadvisor, and for good reason. Our waiter, a round-faced nine-year old in an NBA player's body, was very smiley and hospitable throughout. Our harira soups- tomato soup with a hint of Moroccan herbs- were delicious, as was the chicken with olives, and the lamb tagine (yep, got a bit of a tagine addiction while I was here too).

Indigos in the night-time...

Aqua blues in the daytime!

4. Views from the Kasbah- In spite of the rain, we thought we'd wander through the main plaza- Place Uta-el-Hammam- and into the Kasbah, the beautiful fortress that towers over the square. The gardens themselves were stunning- orange trees, palm trees and wild plants looked even more luscious in the rain. You've got to love a good view- and we managed to find one up the windy stairs. When it rains non-stop, I always want to see the positive in it- and the upside here was the complete lack of people. We had the fortress completely to ourselves, and though we knew relatively little about it, we could just get a little respite from the rain in lovely surroundings.

Our cat friend just by the hostel. 

5. The cats- There were literally cats everywhere! They seem to be the rats of Morocco. Nothing much else to say- as a cat lover, I just enjoyed this fact! They looked a little sadder than the average house cat, but still healthy enough.












6. The pastries- When wandering past the waterfall on yet another rainy day, we saw a little hole-in-the-wall- literally- just to the side. On closer inspection, it looked like it served a variety of pastries- one delicacy that I did not associate with Morocco before I went there. Some sticky, some crumbly (Moroccan almond macaroons) some hard (ghoribas), all deliciously sweet- and incredibly cheap. 3 dirhams a piece- that's barely translatable in pounds or euros. The sweet oranges, again too cheap to be believed, were the perfect accompaniment.

Another pastry stand.

Our breakfast back at the hostel!

Just because Chefchaouen is such a photogenic city, here are a few random pictures...everything's better in blue.

The ornate floor by the medina gate,

The main gate into the medina.

The ornate floor by the medina gate, with a touch of blue...of course.

A random cafe we visited in the main square.

A splash of green in an otherwise blue world...

The view from on top of our hostel. Pretty amazing now- imagine it in the sunshine...

The view out of our window on the bus out of Chefchaouen...typical that the sun should come out as we leave.

In summary, Chefchaouen had a calm about it that left me wanting more. I want to see those blue houses bathed in sunlight, and people enjoying their Moroccan tea out in the central square. However, there did seem to be something of a perfect poetry about a rainy blue city...the ultimate embodiment of the blues.

So, just as it looked like the rain may be stopping in Chefchaouen, we headed back to Fes. I believe they call that sod's law. We thought we had suffered the full brunt of Fes' frustrating layout the first night..we were wrong. Fresh with optimism from our visit to Chefchaouen, we thought we could find our hostel by ourselves. It looked easy according to our hand-drawn map...just down this main street, take a left down one of the side streets, then surely we would see a sign. But nothing is quite that easy in Fes.

We wandered around for about 30 minutes, through closed souks (as it was a Friday) and questionable alleyways, until we admitted defeat at Bab Guissa and decided to give the hostel a call. Thank goodness we did- I can safely say that we would not have found Riad Meski even with the best navigational tools in the world. Firstly, there is no sign outside. Secondly, the reception and our room were in two different spots. Thirdly...it just wasn't going to happen.

Our bedroom in the second riad...

Our crazy time trying to find the place was soon placated with a friendly host named Ahmed presenting us with a nice Moroccan tea. It seemed very quiet, and a little grander than our first hostel, but Ahmed seemed more welcoming. When asked if we had any questions, we asked about seeing the famous Chouara Tannery, where the leather is made through organic means.

"Ah, they are closed today," said Ahmed. "However, I have a neighbour who works there, and may be able to do me a favour..."

Now, you can decide whether this was genuine, or a standard sales pitch delivered to all the guests. Either way, we decided to go for it- it was the only way we were going to see the tanneries, and we were wise enough to not buy anything unless we really wanted.

First, it was time to be taken out of the riad we thought we were staying in, and into another even more opulent riad down the street. This time, it really did seem like we were the only ones in the riad; not only that, but it seemed like we were guests in Ahmed's female friend's house. Our ensuite room was the biggest yet- huge ornate doors, stain glass windows, and intricately decorated walls and carpets.

Anyway, after gawping at our room, it was time to meet our tanneries guide. As it is actually illegal for Moroccans to guide tourists in the medina, he shall remain nameless! After walking for a while into the engulfing deep of the medina, our guide suggested that we head into his friend's scarf shop on the way back from the tanneries. "Mmm hmm" we said, keeping it nicely ambiguous. I felt a little uneasy as we wound our way up the narrow staircase, the only indication that these were tanneries a crudely written piece of paper with 'Tanneries' and an arrow. However, when we got to the top floor, we found the view that we were looking for. Down below were huge brown vats, filled with various rich colours- some red (pomegranate), some yellow (saffron), and dozens of others. Our guide talked through the complicated process that involves pigeon poo, cow urine and other delightful natureal resources; here is a thorough explanation of the whole procedure. I did end up buying something from there- and even haggling for it too. I only got him down 10 dirham for my leather sandals from 150 to 140, but I'm still happy that I got a good deal. It was amazing that a bag I had initially been interested in suddenly jumped from 850 to 450 dirham as I was buying the sandals, but I was no foolish tourist.

Our journey back from the tanneries was predictably disastrous. After we were left on a random street by our guide, we ended up getting so horribly lost that we ended up at the complete opposite end of the medina, and had to get a taxi back to good old Bab Guissa. We managed to put enough brain cells together to find our way back from there; I cannot underestimate the sense of achievement we felt upon recognising our riad. It warranted a hug- no mean feat in a city where we had mostly tried to act the opposite of over-emotional girly tourists.

To save ourselves becoming eaten up in the Medina forever, we ended up going to a few haunts from before. Having a few teas at Barcelona Cafe and enjoying Moroccan tapas back at good old Cafe Clock seemed like the perfect way to wind down our trip.

Our last Moroccan tea

So, I hope that you're still with me after this long blog post! What was our final impression of these two Moroccan cities? As we walked through the medina to our airport taxi, armed with our free takeaway breakfast, I felt a little relief, some sadness that the adventure was ending, a bit of excitement for heading home, but also a strange fondness for Fes that had been lacking the day before. It's funny how cities are a lot like people- although you may feel exasperated, you often have a weird respect for the ones that challenge you. Though Erin and I did not completely understand Fes, we couldn't deny that we had been through a lot with our city- and that we left part of ourselves behind in one of those stony alleyways. This is not only a spiritual, but a physical metaphor, considering my trainer is in that first hostel. It seems somehow fitting- leaving my running shoe in the place that made us run in circles.

Bab Bou Jelod- the "Blue Gate".

Bab Guissa.

Thanks to Erin for being a great travel companion- your sense of humour and direction were much appreciated, though the latter was certainly put to the test!

The cemetery next to Bab Guissa.

Our last sight of the Fes medina- donkeys taking animal hides into the medina around Bab Guissa.

I'll certainly be back to Morocco- not to Fes necessarily, not for a while, but definitely Chefchaouen. A mysterious maze that never ceased to amaze, Morocco has reawakened my travel bug- dangerous, but very exciting!