The road to Chefchaouen — Chefchaouen, Morocco
Currently I am in Chefchaouen with Diederik, enjoying this cozy and beautiful city in the middle of the Rif Mountains, but more on that later.
The last blog entry ended with Diederik and me arriving in Tanger. He was on his bicycle, me on my motorcycle, and together we slowly drove towards the medina of Tanger (the medina is the old part of the city, with many small roads going like a maze in all directions, probably designed to confuse tourists). We had the adress of a guy who is the nephew of my fathers girlfriend, who has a guesthouse in Tanger, and he'd love to meet us. However, several attempts to contact him on his phone failed (apparantly he was too busy playing a game of bridge to pick up the phone). At the entrance of the medina I noticed that motorized vehicles are not allowed in, but after a while I just decided to turn the engine off and push the bike in. In the meantime we were already approached by some Moroccans who where eager to either help us towards a great hotel, or to help us score some drugs. We declined their offers and started walking into the medina, looking for Rue Nasiriam where Peter's gueshouse was located. Being hustled multiple times by locals who were our 'friends' and were happy to help (obviously not for free) us find out way through the medina, we finally found one that was so eager to help he would not go away. We made clear that we were looking for Arabesque in Rue Nasiria, and we made clear that we would not pay him anything. What then happened was that he led us through the medina, not knowing where he was supposed to take us, until I decided that I had enough, so I used the GPS of my phone to find out that we were not only one street away, but also that we actually already went through Rue Nasiria before. I decided to just forget about our 'guide' and just look for myself, leaving Diederik to watch our stuff (pushing a packed motorcycle through the streets up a hill is just too heavy, and although our guide helped, I can still feel my left hand aching now). Walking through Rue Nasiria there was no sign of Maison Arabesque, but luckily on the corner of a street some old man was able to help us. 'Oh you're looking for Peter, Peter from Holland!' Ah, yes, finally someone who knows what we're looking for. He led us to a closed door (apparantly his guesthouse was being renovated for the christmas season), but he also knew where he lived, just a few blocks away (where, by the way, he didn't live). In the end Diederik and I just decided to sit at a cafe in the middle of the medina to get something to eat and drink. In the cafe across the street I noticed a small group of very European looking people sitting, so I thought, hell, I'll just give it a try. I walk up to them, and I ask him if one of them knows Peter. Luckily this guy, name Stephan, also owned a guesthouse in the medina, and he knew Peter, and after having something to drink we were finally able to meet up with Peter at the local cinema.
We had a nice talk with Peter, and he helped us find a nice hostel. The next few days were great. Tanger is a nice city, and walking through the medina (at least without the motorcycle) is great. You just have to find a way to get rid of the hustlers, Diederik has already written about one of the more interesting encounters, so do check out his blogpost about our visit to Cafe Hafa, which is by the way beautifully located on the mountainside looking over the Strait of Gibraltar with a nice view of the most southern tip of Spain (which is only about 20 km away). We had another drink with Peter, where he shared some of the frustrations he had with the Moroccans, many of which are apparantly untrustworthy and live by the day. Meaning that they'd rather make big bucks now and destroying your relationship with him, than make less money daily, but have a more steady income for a long period of time.
Yesterday we left for Chefchaouen, me on my motorcycle and Diederik by bus, taking his bicycle as luggage. Luckily the motorcycle started easily (this time I did not leave the fuel tap open), and I started my 110 km trip towards Chefchaouen over nice curly mountainroads. The roads and the driving behaviour of the Moroccans were surprisingly good, and they drove even more defensly through the twisty roads (where slow moving trucks and agricultural vehicles are plenty) than I would have. About 2 hours later, when I arrived in Chefchaouen I found out that Diederik had not even left Tanger, where he had to wait for the bus, and in the end arrived in Chefchaouen probably 4 hours after I did. This was a great time for me to find a nice hostel and check out the town. Chefchaouen is famous for it's blue buildings and beautiful medina, which is definitely not an axaggeration. Tiny blue streets and a cozy square ensured a much more relaxed stay than Tanger. Although there were less hustlers, there were definitely more drug dealers, since Chefchaouen is the hash capital of Morocco. Sitting at a cafe I started talking with the waiter, who was probably around the same age as me, and I found out that he only makes 50 Dirham (around 5 euro) for his 10am to 12pm shift, and he's one of the lucky guys who actually have a job. This explains the urge of many Moroccans to try to extract as much money from tourists as they can, although I think I've been a dissapointment to them as of yet.
Diederik and I will be staying here until monday, after which he will go to Mallila, and I will go to Rabat to try to get a Mauritanian visa, in case I do want to go to Mauritania and Senegal. After Rabat probably a short visit to Casablanca, which apparantly is dissapointing, but it's near Rabat, and probably the only place to get a new front tire until I reach Ouarzazate. And then on to Meknes, Fes, and furter south...
I wish I could upload some pictures, but since they're in raw format I first have to export them to jpeg on my phone, which I havent done yet. So maybe another time.
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