After a few days in Casablanca, I was eager to see more of the country. Along with my fellow OAT travelers (our group now numbered 12) and our enthusiastic tour leader, Abdou, I set out to explore the Rif Mountains in the far north of Morocco.
We traveled by minivan and during the ride, Abdou taught us how to count to twelve and say “good morning” in Darija, the variant of Arabic spoken in Morocco. In addition to speaking Darija, French, and English, Abdou was also a native speaker of the language of the Amazigh people, the original inhabitants of the country.
I don’t know exactly what I expected of Morocco’s landscape, but I was somewhat surprised to find us surrounded by a fertile agricultural area as we traveled east from the Atlantic coast. Donkey carts seemed to be an important form of transportation in this rural part of the country.
We passed by numerous flocks of sheep and roadside stands with displays of colorful locally grown vegetables. According to Abdou, wheat and alfalfa (to feed animals) are two of the main crops grown in this region, as well as sugar cane. In fact, Morocco has been one of the world’s largest exporters of sugar cane for many years. That’s one reason why Spain occupied parts of the country for several decades.
A couple of hours into our journey, we made an impromptu stop at a sprawling roadside market. Abdou led us through the noisy crowd of shoppers, past vendors of clothing and shoes, kitchen and household items, and chickens, goats, and sheep.
Not long afterwards, we made a lunch stop at a boucherie/grillade (where you choose your meat and the butcher cuts it off and then grills it). We all enjoyed a hearty lunch of bread, olives, lentils, beans, a vegetable tagine, grilled kofta (skewers of ground beef flavored with garlic and onions), and lamb chops. It concluded with the ever-present mint tea.
Back on the road, looking out at vibrant green hillsides covered with orchards and groves of olive trees. Abdou mentioned that another crop grown in the Rif Mountains is cannabis. It’s legal to grow here and most of the yield is exported to European countries.
We finally arrived at our destination, the blue city of Chefchaouen, late in the afternoon. The town of about 40,000 people is tucked into the Rif Mountains, at an elevation of 1200 meters (close to 4000 feet) above sea level. The city dates back to 1471. Its population grew when a large number of Jews and Muslims, who had been expelled from Christian Spain in 1492, settled here. It’s not a surprise, then, that the old part of the city resembles an Andalusian village. On our first walk, I noticed the narrow twisting lanes, tiled roofs, and heavy wooden doors. Most of the houses have interior courtyards. Abdou mentioned that Christians were not allowed to enter the city for several centuries.
As for the distinctive blue color, there is no authoritative explanation. All of the houses were originally whitewashed. Some say that it was the Jews who first painted their doors and window shutters blue in the early 20th century, when the area was under Spanish control. Supposedly they were told by the Spanish that this would keep insects out of their homes. The Muslim inhabitants of Chefchaouen later adopted the custom. Whatever the story, today the town is a captivating sea of different shades of blue and a magnet for tourists.
Leaving our minivan, we entered the old walled medina through a historic 15th century gate and walked uphill to the main plaza, where the imposing Kasbah is located. I learned that a Kasbah is actually a fortress that houses the administrative and military headquarters of the town. From there, it was a quick walk to our riad.
Staying in a riad is a uniquely Moroccan experience. Technically, a riad is a house with a courtyard. Instead of having windows that face out onto the street, the windows face an open-air courtyard. This affords the occupants a great deal of privacy. Riads were originally the homes of affluent families. Nowadays, many have been turned into guesthouses. Behind a nondescript exterior, they feature distinctive Moroccan architectural details and often lavish furnishings, particularly in the common areas.
Finally, after a long day, we sat down to dinner to a group dinner of goat cheese salad, chicken and vegetable couscous, rosewater pudding.
Back in my room in the riad, I knew I should go to sleep, but I was so enthralled with the beauty of the décor that I could hardly close my eyes.
The next morning, we were greeted by a welcome fire in the breakfast room’s fireplace. The table was spread with simple but fresh fare – an assortment of breads, jams, hard boiled eggs, and olives, of course.
After breakfast, Abdou led the group on a long walk through the medina. Around every corner was a photo-worthy sight – and often a cat.
When we passed by a public oven fired by olive wood, Abdou spoke to the baker who gave us samples of cookies just out of the oven. He explained that most houses didn’t have ovens so women would prepare the bread dough at home and bring it to the public oven for baking.
After the walk, we took a 45 minute ride on winding roads to visit a family who lived on a farm in the village of El Houmar, outside of Chefchaouen. When we arrived, Mohamed greeted us warmly and showed us the outdoor oven where members of his family were baking bread. It took mere minutes for the large rounds of dough to puff up in the wood-fired oven. He broke off pieces of the hot, crusty bread and passed them around for us to sample. He then ushered us inside to serve tea. I was expecting mint tea but Abdou explained that mint tea is a summer beverage here since mint doesn’t grow locally in the winter. Instead, we sipped heavily sweetened orange blossom tea.
Afterwards, we followed Mohamed and his young daughter outside to inspect the fields where he grows carrots, fava beans, turnips, potatoes, pumpkins, and onions. He also has olive trees. While we were outside, his wife was busy preparing lunch.
Later in the afternoon, back at the riad, we met with a local woman by the name of Fatima who spoke to us about the status of women in Morocco. She mentioned that the problems faced by women are especially acute in the rural areas, where girls are less likely to go to school past the age of 11. Abdou had previously told us that education isn’t mandatory in Morocco. However, to encourage parents to send their children to school, the government makes a payment to the family for each child who attends school. However, many girls end their education after primary school to marry at a young age while others are discouraged by the distance they would have to travel to attend high school.
There is a fledgling women’s movement and laws have recently changed. In fact, the current king, Mohamed VI, instituted a new “family code” in 2004 which expands women’s rights with regard to divorce, custody, and abuse. However, problems persist, especially in the countryside.
Somehow, by dinnertime, I managed to work up an appetite again. I joined Abdou and a couple of my fellow travelers for an al fresco dinner as the sun went down over this magical blue city.
Very interesting, Eleanor. I really like the photos of the Blue City.
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