Travel & Adventure

Welcome to my Travel Blog. See where I go and what I get upto...

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Rooftops of Tangier

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Europe on the Horizon 

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Travelling to Tangier

As we woke to our final breakfast in this scenic city, we felt refreshed and ready for the next stage in our long journey to Lisbon. After four long days not doing an awful lot, we felt ready for the road & new bearings.

We were heading to the port city of Tangier and had no idea how. As we paid up in reception we met an American guy called Jason. We hadn’t seen him around the hotel but never the less he was heading to Tangier as well. And better yet he spoke Arabic. Seemed like a nice deal that he came along with us...

So the four of us headed down to the bus station were we expected to find a reasonably priced bus, but with it being the end of the holidays every man and his dog had the same idea and buses were scarce. 

We opted to pay a little extra for a taxi and Jason haggled us a good price. He had studied at Brown University in the States and studied Business and Arabic. A useful combination for a man looking for work in a foreign land.

He found us a good price and better yet the driver wasn’t interested in packing the cab with the usual 6 passengers. No today, we would have 4 and what space we had. I think with the cab being so long and the leather seats so warn from being used to 6 people squeezing in all the time, it gave the extra space when they were used for the correct amount of people. This was living!

We headed north towards the coast with the sun in our eyes, a cool breeze and a new friend who was eagerly interested in us all, for the short time we would have together. 

Tangier was to be our final destination in this diverse country!

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Chefchaouen Sunset

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Walking & Waterfalls (pt 2)

So as we set out on our journey into the valley to find the waterfall, we realised just how popular this place was with Moroccan tourists. The place was teaming with young people celebrating the end of Ede, and doing so in style. 

All along the river, which lead off into the valley was camp site after camp site and pit stops along the way too. With refreshments like Fanta Lemon stored in ice buckets and even prayer stations. It was it’s own little world. And perfectly sustainable to live in for x amount of days/weeks. And it looked like some of them had spent weeks here. Smoking hash to their hearts desire and their parents non the wiser.

As we trekked our ways along the path in the midday sun we realised we had been walking for some time and still hadn’t reached the waterfall. Everyone we stopped said something vague like 45 minutes or 1 hour. 

It turned out in the end it was 2 hours!! The Belgium’s couldn’t hack it... They turned back. Apart from one of them who was just as determined as the rest of us to make it to the waterfall we had sought out all day. 

So it was left me me, Ryan and Josh along with another Brit, a Belgium and a funny kid from Singapore. It was probably too late to start this journey and the sun was getting low, but we were not turning back by any means.

It took long but we were distracted at every turn by mud slides, hills, trees to climb over, and various pit stops along the way. There was human traffic every few metres carrying supplies back and forth which really brought to home how long some people had been staying here. With the shops down the hill I imagine there was enough to sustain for the people who appreciated the little things in life.  

We finally made it to the the waterfall and it was slightly anti-climatic. I’m not sure what we was expecting but it was more like a gentle dribble front a small tap. A thin strip of water glided down a smooth rock face into a pool below. To be fair it had the scale but just not the amount of water I was hoping for.

When we got closer the waterfall did seem a little more impressive and I was the first to take my kit off and jump into the freezing water. It was extremely refreshing and the locals seemed impressed with how high we was daring to jump from the rocks into the pool. 

We had made it just in time for sunset. And then we headed back! Another two hours trek down the valley made a little more rewarding after our swim... And the fact that this time it was downhill made it a little sweeter. 

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The two hour trek into the valley

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Walking & Waterfalls (pt 1)

Not wanting to spend every waking moment sipping coffee, on what is arguably one the the prettiest rooftops terraces in all of Morocco, we go in search of a local water fall which rests in the mountains.

With some Belgium girls in attendance, who followed us from Fez, we make our way down through the narrow blue streets of the town to the local taxi rank where again the drivers stand around their cars proudly as they wait for the day’s work to begin. We must be the first as several rush over to serve our needs before anyone else.

We’re heading for a waterfall we say in slow English. ‘‘Akchour, Akchour’’ is their response. ‘‘Yes, waterfall... Taxi 45 minutes... Then long walk!’’. I look around the group who look as unsure as me as to whether this is the place we require but we take the plunge anyway and separate into two taxi’s and make begin our journey.

The ride provides a chance for cool air to replenish our faces on this dry day and we make idol conversation with the driver. As with most Moroccans he is polite & pleasant, with many questions about the UK and Belgium for that matter. He tells us about his kids and how long he has worked in this trade.

My main surprise is that with only four spare seats he never goes anywhere without filling the car with six. The same thing we had arriving to Chefchaouen seems to be the rule of the land around these parts.

When we arrive at Akchour we find, not a town but a thing strip of shops lining one road. Development that has come on the back of holiday makers over the years. But it seems that locals are the main source of visitors, with people camping in the mountains for weeks on end or simply visiting the waterfall for the day.

We pay up for the journey and our taxi driver informs us he will wait and take us back at the end of the day. It seems many more taxi drivers have the same idea as they sit, chat and drink tea in the shade.

It appears they have a very relaxed job from day to day if this journey alone is enough to put food in their children’s mouths. I sort of envy the prospect that they make enough money to live, but not so much that they don’t have time to.

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Call to Wake

I wake at dawn to the call to prayer. With the holiday season in full swing, it is ever more vital that the locals enforce their religion. Seemingly reminding foreigners like myself of the land we find ourselves in. Especially when the minaret tower of the Mosque next door and its great speaker system, lies directly next to the rooftop we find ourselves on. But in truth I imagine worse things to be woken by. 

I think of England and the various bedrooms I’ve woken up in as I grew up, and the noises that would fill the room then. From traffic to Seagulls. or the thin walls which revealed the inner workings of the families next door. Non are as everlasting as the sounds I was awash with now, one man’s voice across a valley of silence, and the cultural reminder that is brought forward by it. Allah Akbar, Allah Akbar! 

The man’s voice echoes fast across the valley. But as one voice rings many more emerge. Voice’s from all the minarets across the city ring loud as each neighbourhood is greeted with the same call to prayer. Or call to wake for any light sleepers like me. 

What I find most enjoyable about this prompt way to wake is that it reminds me that this is a country full of smells and sounds. You can visit a thousand monuments or ruins across the globe, but my true amazement comes from the challenge this journey has to my senses as well. 

As the speaker systems lays rest to a first of five calls to prayer, through what will probably be another blistering day in the sun, I too lay my head before the sun spoils the cool night air. 

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Legs or nicely lit Hotdogs?

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Chill

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Settle down at Souka

As we left the taxi we could see straight away why it was so seemingly hard to reach this place in the day. Every man and his dog were here celebrating Ede and the city was alive. It was late at night yet like Marrakech street vendors and their customers were going about their business exchanging goods and preaching a bargain.

As we expected everything in the centre was blue… Blue walls, blue doors, blue stairs, bricks, floors, houses, and even lampposts. We literally couldn’t escape blue. And I loved it, as it felt very calming.  The colour would start a dark blue then be contrasted with a lighter shade higher up each building. And with the streetlights being blue in a lot of places too it felt very otherworldly.

The streets were narrow and winding as we navigated past busy food stalls and vendors whilst kids dotted with ease in and out of the festivities... Unlike ourselves with our clumpy backpacks that knocked anyone within a foot of us.

In this labyrinth a man stopped us and asked if we were looking for Hotel Souka. Why of course this was exactly what we were looking for and he offered to take us. Again we advised him we were not prepared to pay but it became evident he was actually more interested in getting us to buy hash from him, so we did. We had come here for just that reason so it was Win-Win really. And as soon as we dropped our bags off at our place Ryan was already off making a deal. I hoped!

Me and Josh took his bag and followed a man up the four story building to the roof were mattresses lay side by side, snaking around a corner before reaching another stairway, to another rooftop terrace over looking the city. All the beds were quartered off into fours with thick curtains and the bedding was comfortable and warm. It was perfect and came at an amazing price too so we were beyond happy with our luck finding this place.

The fourth person in our ‘room’ was a nice Austrian guy who apparently was here for six weeks and practically lived to come back to this place whenever he had the opportunity, and the money. He had already spent three months here a couple of years ago, staying at the same place smoking the same hash day in day out. It was his personal Shangri-La.

When Ryan came back we made for the terrace with our new friend and smoked our day’s stress away. It was calm up here...

Music played quietly as we watched the city lights glow around us, this little gem in the mountains.  I could sense this was going to be our holiday in a holiday. A chance to stop, breath and Relax!

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Room with a View

(terrace just above the beds)

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Blue Orbs

As we entered the mountains from the flat plains, darkness engulfed us quickly. I was content watching the sun set and watched the shadows fill the void in the cracks of the landscape. I hung my head out the window and listened to my music feeling happy that after a pretty horrible day we were on our way once more.

The night sky was dead clear and stars could be seen to one side, but not the other. This was because as the car moved further forward we started to see our destination glow brighter and brighter over the horizon on the edge of the distant hillsides.

Usually this recognisable glow, if you’ve ever driven home late at night is a warm orange. But not on this occasion as the horizon’s outline was a pale blue as if time had gone quicker and we were now witnessing the rebirth of the sun on it’s daily cycle. It wasn’t dawn, but the blue city of Chefchaouen. Famous for its blue walls and streets, and now at night the blue orbs of the city street lamps. We had made it.

Chef-Choo-Wut!!

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Taxi to the Blue City

As the sun was setting and we bid farewell to our companion, we headed around the corner to find a gang of taxi drivers smoking cigarettes and talking business in a huddle. I say gang simply because they looked like members of one, with their tank tops and dated leather jackets and serious faces only letting up to laugh at the ring leaders comments of what I can only imagine was some anecdote of some poor situation another tourist had got themselves into. My mind worried what awaited us.

It was clear they hadn’t much to do yet and was probably waiting for the stragglers who couldn’t catch a bus that had to resort to requiring their services. We were in such a situation, only we had probably given up earlier than most.

As we approached them the column opened ways to us and looked us up and down. As you could say, they saw us coming! They wanted a high enough price that would work out at about £10 each but on the condition we filled the car. Easy said and done but these were 5 seat cars and they were looking to squeeze in 7 including the driver.

Trying not to lose ourselves in translation we somehow managed to acquire the backseats to ourselves, between the 3 of us. He wanted 4 in there but we offered to pay for the room. The driver only really agreed because another nomad of this region needed a lift and paid for the front seat. But we were sure he got a better deal.

It turned out that we paid 10 times as much as we would have if only we caught the first bus of the day, which was annoying but at this stage we couldn’t care anymore and we headed of into the sunset towards the blue city.

On router the driver picked up a hitch hiker and he squeeze in the front with the other gentleman with no complaints, only to rub salt in the wounds of our pockets as we evidently got the worst deal here. Never the less I was more interested in how much space the car actually had and could see why they always wanted to pack it beyond capacity. I was just glad he didn’t push his luck and squash us in the back with him.

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Rainy days in Chefchaouen, Morocco (by Zú Sánchez).

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Chefchaouen, Morocco

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Chefchaouen at Night | Brian Hammonds