The third city that we visited in Morocco was Chefchaouen, the blue city. The reason for its name is not because everyone is depressed, but because many of the buildings are painted with a blue dye (who would have guessed?). Now its been awhile since we were there so the details on what we really did are a little fuzzy, so bear with me. I do know that for the first few hours we walked around looking for the ruins of a Spanish church that was modeled after a mosque. We asked countless natives, in three different languages even, and still couldn't find it. We eventually gave up and went to look for some dinner. On our way to dinner we were asked almost 10 times if we wanted to buy some weed. We found out later that Chef is known for its plethora of weed fields just beyond the city limits and that although it is still illegal, no one really gets in trouble.
After dinner we went up to the terrace of our hostel to take in a view of the city at night. In the far distance we could hear bottles breaking, screaming, and police sirens. Eventually the noise moved in our direction, until we could hear it directly below our terrace in the alleyways. We could see men running and shouting. They would also occasionally pick up rocks and throw them at the walls, which made us a little nervous because it bordered on violence that we in no way wanted to be a witness or victim of.
The next day we asked the man at the front desk of our hostel where the ruins of the Spanish church was and he knew exactly what we were talking about. We realized it was the building perched in the middle of one of the mountains that we had been looking at since we arrived. After the blood drained from our flushed cheeks we began our thirty minute hike. We atea hearty breakfast (bread and jam) on the steps of the church with the best view of our little blue city.
At noon a taxi driver came to pick us up for the next leg of our journey that was the most unplanned section of all. We knew we had to get to Tanger, take a ferry to Tarifa, and then get to Sevilla by night fall. Our taxi ride took two hours and we were going about 150 kpm the entire time. I really believe that listening to Moroccan music and swerving to not hit other cars on a small mountainous road really gave me a feel for the culture.
We got to Tanger and were immediately ushered into a small booth to buy tickets for the boat. We filled out our forms and then went through security (more like put our bags on the x-ray machine while no one was even observing). We made it onto the boat with two minutes left to spare. Everything was going our way until we got to Tarifa. We had planned on making a bus to Sevilla, but we got lost on the way to the stop and missed the last one by 20 minutes. Thankfully everyone was flexible and not too upset that we would have to just find a hostel for the night and camp out in Tarifa. We found one quickly and then went and ate sandwiches on the beach as the sun set on the Mediterranean. Best sunset of my 20 years on this planet, so can't be too upset about our traveling misfortune. We sat at a bar for an hour and then went to bed early so that we would have plenty of energy for Sevilla in the morning.
After dinner we went up to the terrace of our hostel to take in a view of the city at night. In the far distance we could hear bottles breaking, screaming, and police sirens. Eventually the noise moved in our direction, until we could hear it directly below our terrace in the alleyways. We could see men running and shouting. They would also occasionally pick up rocks and throw them at the walls, which made us a little nervous because it bordered on violence that we in no way wanted to be a witness or victim of.
The next day we asked the man at the front desk of our hostel where the ruins of the Spanish church was and he knew exactly what we were talking about. We realized it was the building perched in the middle of one of the mountains that we had been looking at since we arrived. After the blood drained from our flushed cheeks we began our thirty minute hike. We ate
At noon a taxi driver came to pick us up for the next leg of our journey that was the most unplanned section of all. We knew we had to get to Tanger, take a ferry to Tarifa, and then get to Sevilla by night fall. Our taxi ride took two hours and we were going about 150 kpm the entire time. I really believe that listening to Moroccan music and swerving to not hit other cars on a small mountainous road really gave me a feel for the culture.
We got to Tanger and were immediately ushered into a small booth to buy tickets for the boat. We filled out our forms and then went through security (more like put our bags on the x-ray machine while no one was even observing). We made it onto the boat with two minutes left to spare. Everything was going our way until we got to Tarifa. We had planned on making a bus to Sevilla, but we got lost on the way to the stop and missed the last one by 20 minutes. Thankfully everyone was flexible and not too upset that we would have to just find a hostel for the night and camp out in Tarifa. We found one quickly and then went and ate sandwiches on the beach as the sun set on the Mediterranean. Best sunset of my 20 years on this planet, so can't be too upset about our traveling misfortune. We sat at a bar for an hour and then went to bed early so that we would have plenty of energy for Sevilla in the morning.
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