Chefchaouen

 I am sitting in Hotel Paradour while Nic takes a wee nap, waiting for dinner in the downstairs restaurant to open. It is hard for me to sit still when a new adventure is just outside my door waiting for me. However, it has been a long day filled with lots of adventures, so I will use these quiet moments to try to capture today.

I got on a ferry today and rode from Spain to AFRICA. Africa, people. I never, ever thought in all of my life I would get to do this and yet I did it today. Nic and I were both pretty excited. Nic was nervous so he got up early, did push ups in the ferry station and made us three hours early. There is no judgement here. We had a lot of moving parts for us today that were new to us. Seasoned European travelers read this and giggle, I think, because it is old hat to them. It is new hat to us and we were nervous.

Nervous because we parked our trusty girl, Ramona in a parking lot in Algeciras, Spain with a lady who had few teeth, and fewer words in English. I want to believe she spoke an archaic dialect of Spanish, but I am pretty sure that is not true. She smiled a lot and pointed toward the Porto and shewed us off. I sure hope Ramona is ok…

We then ferried across the Mediterranean Sea to Morocco. 

The Moroccan passport people were not too thrilled with us and examined our documents carefully. Far more carefully than other travelers, I noticed. I am almost positive we were the only Americans on the ferry. Things to know: they serve food on the ferry if you peckish, the wind is crazy - like it almost blew me over on the boat, there are entire trucks and cars UNDER you in the ferry. When you get off in Morocco there is a line of trucks honking and beeping ready to deliver their goods somewhere in Africa. There was also a nice German family with their minivan, their boat, their paddle boards, and their cat.

There was also some anxiety on our part surrounding our rental car in Morocco. Nic organized this and I really felt from the get-go it was a little shady. These were our instructions: You will get a text message on June 15 telling you that Adil will pick you up at the port. Please bring $330 Euros in cash.

Adil did text. He let me know he would pick us up and I should let him know when the ferry left Spain. Please note the ferry was scheduled to leave Spain at noon. I think it left around 12:40. It became clear that this detail was known by Adil, and as a result, he waited to make sure we actually left the port before he came to fetch us. As we rode the bus to the taxi station in Morocco I turned on my location and sent it to Dan. I felt a wee nervous meeting ‘Adil’ and renting a car from him.

We did find Adil. He seems pretty nice. I gave him cash, he gave me a car. We might be driving Adil’s personal car right now. In fact, I am almost positive we are. 

Off we went in Adil’s Car headed into the Moroccan wild. Top on my list for Morocco was Chefchaouen, or the Blue City. It is located in the Moroccan mountains with roads the wind around filled with donkeys, tiny trucks with animals stuffed in, cars, buses, pedestrians, bicyclists, and motor bikes with multiple riders, sometimes children. Nic saw a sheep tied to the top of a bus with the suitcases like a piece of luggage.

I love Nic for lots of reasons, but one of my favorite reasons is his sense of adventure. As we wound up the mountains Nic was transfixed by the markets and the people. Unhindered, he pulled the car over and off into town we went. It was clear by the stares that Westerners are rare in this town. I have been excited to speak French here, but was shocked to find that no one in this tiny town actually spoke French. We wandered through the market where I saw the most beautiful mounds of olives of all types. I was tempted to buy some until I noticed people eating right out of the bowls, so I passed. 

Hungry, Nic and I spotted the one restaurant in town. We walked in. Almost immediately I noticed that I was the only woman there. And lots of people stared at me. It became apparent that I was in a bar and that seems to be a faux pas. We were directed downstairs to a small cafe with sandwiches and pizza. Here the lack of common tongue became more exaggerated as I tried to explain through Google Translate that I don’t eat meat. 

“That’s OK!” They said. “We have fish.”

“No, I don’t eat fish either.”

They stared blankly.

“That’s OK!” They insisted. “We have fish.”

They were so kind; they made a salad with warm tuna fish and onions, and a squid pizza. They all stood around me, “It’s ok??”

And what do you say? You just shove the warm tuna right on in and hope you don’t puke. And you pull off the squid discreetly and feed it to the stray cat at your feet, who looks far too thin.

Thankfully a lovely woman saw us eating and came to ask if she could have some. Before we could answer she was helping herself to Nic’s plate. I saw this an opportunity to share my salad and pizza. Nic pulled up a chair and she had lunch with us. Turns out she loves squid pizza and tuna salad.

She also loves us.

I made friends with the kids in the restaurant and they taught me to say thank you in Arabic. I showed them my American dollars and they were in awe. I think we might have been the first Americans many had ever met. I also learned about their cool hats.  

And I used their bathrooms. I was a little traumatized.

At last we packed up the leftover food and sent it with our new friend, and hopped back in Adil’s car to finish our drive to Chefchaouen. And then, just like that we were in Hotel Paradour with Nic napping and me hoping for dinner sans fish, or meat, or onions. Stay tuned for more…I see Nic stirring, so I am hoping to run out for my next adventure any moment now.