Out of the Blue

-“I think 100 dirham. But how much do YOU think? If you do not negotiate, you will end up buying nothing!” The warm, sarcastic voice of Yussef, the old earring-seller was going back and forth in my head. My previous experience from Marrakech and Fes had made it crystal clear, but still, this phrase, drilled into my mind, was the epitome: Bargaining in this country was more than saving a little money…It was an art. A national sport. A way of living.
After settling down in Dar Dadicilef, an adorable hostel with a character, I was off to explore Chefchaouen: This amazing city, well known mostly for two major factors: Firstly, its old Medina, painted in tones of heavenly blue. Secondly…Well, the abundant hashish production.
Tirelessly wandering the narrow streets. Curious to discover what was laying around the next corner, what hidden treasures would disclose themselves. And eventually, losing my sense of direction. Oh, I had to admit: I was not only lost in my thoughts, but in the streets, as well. Asking for help in a peculiar blend of English and Spanish was on the one hand really fun, on the other not really effective.
-“Excuse me! Disculpe, como se va a la Medina?”
But out of the blue, there it was: Dazzling, charming. Ready to get embraced by the courageous travelers: The Medina! It was relieving exploring the picturesque labyrinths- miles away from the chaotic hustle and bustle of other Morrocan cities. Yes, here you could slow down your pace and….feel like a nomad again. Secret alleys and doll-like doors. Marvelous shops with spices and leather crafts. Kind locals and playful children swarming around my camera.
Starving, I would kill for some delicious tagine, when I came across ‘Granada’. Maybe, the most minimalistic restaurant on Earth and with a lovely owner cracking a joke from time to time. Never a stew tasted so homemade.
As the sun was setting down, gently caressing the fairytale roofs of Chefchaouen, I passed by the Ras-el-Maa waterfall where women were doing the laundry and children were showing off their breathtaking dives. I headed to the top of the hill nearby, thirsty for a heart-stopping view. And so it was. Suddenly I felt like belonging to this magic place.
The next morning, with my baggage full of Morrocan tea, my mind full of memories and my heart bursting with desire to return, I set off for Tangier. Definitely a short stay, but as a Morrocan proverb says: “Little and lasting is better than much and passing.” So long, Chaouen!