Yes, I'm in Morocco. After a busy (and incredibly wonderful) summer in Vancouver, I was in dire need of spreading my wings (and mind)... thus the order for an adventure! It is now day 6, three of which were spent in Madrid to decompress before the madness of Morocco. We flew into Tangier, then hired a car to take us to Chefchaouen, a small village in the Rif mountains two hours away, known to many for its indigo blue-washed buildings and to others for its kief, which grows abundantly in the hills.
This turned out to be a wonderful introduction to Morocco. The various hues of blue make for an incredible palette, although the locals shy away from being photographed. I don't blame them; I wouldn't want tourists photographing me on my front porch every day either. Although it has changed little since it first opened its doors to foreigners in 1920 (over 400 years after it was first founded in 1471), Chefchaouen has accommodated for the thousands of tourists that swarm its narrow stone streets with a plethora of restaurants (all with the same 10 items on the menu) and shops brimming with silver trinkets, woven rugs and wool clothing. Yes, Chefchaouen had a beautiful charm... now on to Fes, the oldest of the imperial cities, said to be the symbolic heartbeat of the country.
