A Day in Chefchaouen

Day 8 - I am going to kick things off today by showcasing some serious blue. The city is entirely famous because of it; who am I to stand in the way of international expectation? We only had a single full day to tackle Chefchaouen, and we have already arranged for a taxi to spirit us away tomorrow. Naturally, we started our morning by actively attempting not to seek out the defining color. That proved utterly futile. Therefore, let us just get a generous portion of the cyan scenery out of the way right now.

A few folks back home are wondering whether this blue wash actually seems more effective at reflecting heat than the blinding white of a place like Santorini. That thermal trickery happens to be one of the three main theories explaining why this became the "Blue City" in the first place. In all likelihood, the real reason has much more to do with a few generations of local tradition, deep civic pride, and an incredibly astute business sense. Anyway, let us do some blue before we continue with the rest of today's entry!

The blue is down, now let's get to other parts of our day in the city.  Right after our hotel breakfast, one of our first orders of business was to head straight to the Plaza Uta el-Hammam. You simply cannot miss the most imposing building anchoring the square: the Chefchaouen Kasbah. It is a massive red-brown fortress that aggressively interrupts all the surrounding blue.

This formidable structure was actually the birthplace of the city. A local leader named Moulay Ali ibn Rashid ordered it built back in 1471. He needed a sturdy military base to fend off the Portuguese who were busy launching attacks across northern Morocco at the time. Over the centuries, it evolved from a rugged military garrison into a governor's residence and even served a stint as a prison. Today, the space functions primarily as an ethnographic museum and a rather tranquil Andalusian garden. The complex itself is surprisingly large and is completely enclosed by thick mud-brick walls topped with crenellated towers.

We happily handed over the 80 MAD entry fee to get inside. The small museum exhibits are pleasant enough, but the real highlight is the architecture itself. We made a point to walk all the way up to the roof of the main ten-sided tower. The climb is absolutely worth the effort. From that elevated vantage point, you are rewarded with sweeping, unobstructed panoramic views of the entire blue medina spilling out below and the rugged Rif Mountains rising up in the distance.

One of the primary goals of our morning walk was to track down the absolute lifeblood of the town. We wanted to see the initial source of water that made Chefchaouen possible in the first place. A formidable mountain fortification is completely useless without a reliable water supply. In a very literal sense, this specific mountain stream allowed an entire city to spring into existence right here. We navigated to the eastern gate of the city, known as Bab el Ansar, to find the Ras el Maa. The name translates to the head of the water. Traditionally, this is the communal spot where local women would gather to scrub laundry and carpets on the smooth stones. The scene is slightly altered for the tourist crowd these days. The area is currently occupied by highly opportunistic orange sellers. The mountain water is brutally cold. The vendors simply use the rushing stream as a natural refrigerator to chill massive piles of fruit. Jay and I figured it was worth a try. We handed over 10 MAD, which is about $1.50 CAD, to a father and son team. In exchange, we received two exceptionally cold glasses of freshly squeezed juice.

 

Tangier to Chefchaouen

Day 7 - We kicked off the day with a rooftop breakfast, gazing out over the Tangier medina and a lot that lays beyond. Jay and I had booked a private taxi for 10:30 to haul us two and a half hours up to Chefchaouen. Naturally, this meant we had to conquer some serious elevation. Our original driver was fashionably late; however, he managed to organize one of his guys for the job. The resulting drive up to the Blue City was surprisingly pleasant. We only stopped a handful of times along the route to absorb the sweeping mountain views, eventually rolling into our destination around 1:30 PM.

As luck would have it, our driver is a local. He immediately spotted a friend while navigating the edge of town. Jay settled the bill. Since we are lodged deep in the old Casbah again, pulling the car right up to the hotel entrance was geographically impossible. Thankfully, the driver's fortuitously placed buddy doubled as our personal sherpa to guide us up the relentless hills to Hotel Dar Mounir.

We breezed through check-in at the hotel. Since the peak tourist season packed its bags a couple of months ago, we definitely aren't throwing elbows for a spot in this picture-postcard city. Truthfully, I suspect we might be the sole occupants of the establishment tonight. The main public square did maintain a pleasant hum of activity; it was temporarily flooded by the day-tripper crowd spilling out of tour buses for a few fleeting hours. Consequently, we were entirely spoiled for choice when it came time for a late lunch. We ultimately rolled the dice on Restaurant Twins, and it turned out to be an absolutely stellar selection.

I always find it fascinating how a place like this actually evolved. Chefchaouen was born back in 1471 as a military fortress. A local leader named Moulay Ali ibn Rashid built the original kasbah primarily to keep the Portuguese from aggressively expanding inland from the coast. The town quickly morphed into a rugged mountain refuge for Muslims and Jews who were fleeing the Spanish Reconquista. For centuries, it remained a fiercely isolated stronghold. In fact, the city was essentially closed off to outsiders right up until 1920 when the Spanish established a protectorate. After those doors finally opened, a slow trickle of curious travelers gradually became a massive wave of global tourism by the late twentieth century. The town itself has grown to a modest population of about 46,000 residents today.

As for why Jay and I are currently drowning in a sea of cyan, there is no single agreed-upon answer. The most poetic theory points to the Jewish community who settled here. They supposedly introduced the blue wash to mirror the heavens and maintain a constant connection to the divine. A much more practical local theory claims the bright blue tricks mosquitoes into thinking the walls are actually flowing water, thereby keeping the pests at bay. Others simply argue that light colors reflect the brutal Moroccan summer sun to help keep the mud-brick houses cool.

Whatever the true origin story might be, the modern reality is all about the dirhams. The "Blue Pearl" branding is an absolute magnet for travelers. The locals fully embrace this lucrative identity. They haul out massive bags of raw blue pigment every single spring to refresh the walls and keep the tourist economy thriving.

The Day in Tangier

Day 06 - Jay and I had somewhat leisurely start today. Breakfast was served on the hotel roof. The temperature was perfect, though a brisk morning breeze made a valiant attempt to steal our napkins.

We navigated through the casbah and descended into the old medina. These ancient, labyrinthine streets are centuries old; they weave unpredictably along the steep terrain. One must constantly negotiate sudden staircases plunging down or climbing sharply up the hillsides. It is quite the cardiovascular workout.

The area is a veritable maze of shops making orientation impossible without a map. While Google has apparently dispatched local backpackers to catalog this chaos for Street View, Jay and I opted for the thrill of getting lost. We abandoned the app and simply wandered.

The medina is gloriously crowded. We spotted ladies from the mountains peddling crafts and agricultural wares, alongside vendors offering local cheeses. We also braved the intense fish and meat markets; it is safe to say that if an item exists to be sold, it is hidden somewhere within this dense commercial thicket.

Lunch was a simple affair of skewers. Jay opted for the chicken; I selected the swordfish. Both provided excellent fuel for the steep ascents.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable morning. Since it is barely 19:00 and these June days stretch on forever, we are preparing to head back out for round two.

Greetings from the Roof!

Day 05 - After a leisurely breakfast and the usual packing rituals, Jay and I flagged a red petit taxi from the hotel. We arrived at Casa Voyageurs with time to spare for our 11:00 departure. We navigated directly to our assigned second-class seats with zero drama, proving once again that we actually know what we're doing.

The train itself was a marvel. North of Rabat, we hit the high-speed tracks and clocked a blistering 304 km/h—though my camera trigger-finger was only fast enough to immortalize 301 km/h on my phone. An entirely stress-free, incredibly smooth glide brought us into the Tangier station at precisely 1:19 PM.

Emerging into the crisp warm sunshine, we sought out another petit taxi. They're painted blue here, trading Casablanca's red for coastal hues. Our prospective driver initially tried his luck by demanding 50 Moroccan Dirham (about $7.00 CAD). We firmly declined. He parked, apparently reconsidered his negotiating stance, and walked back to concede that 40 Dirham ($5.60 CAD) was perfectly acceptable. We piled in and he whisked us up the steep, winding hills to Bab Casbah—bab translating to "door" or "gate" in Arabic. We successfully breached the ancient walls and were checked into the Casbah House just before 2:00 PM (and thankfully not 2:00 AM).

Our temporary royal residence sits just inside the Bab Casbah gate, the high-altitude entrance to Tangier’s ancient fortress. For the uninitiated, the Kasbah isn't just a neighborhood—it’s the old walled citadel that has stood watch over the Strait of Gibraltar for centuries, fending off various invaders with varying degrees of success. We are bunking at the Casbah House, officially located at 18b Rue Ahmed Ben Ajiba. To put its age into perspective for the folks back home, this traditional Moroccan dar is woven directly into 13th-century defensive ramparts. It has been standing significantly longer than almost any house you’ve ever set foot in. It’s a labyrinth of thick stone masonry, heavy antiques, and ancient stairways that serves as the perfect, soundproof refuge from the delightful chaos of the Medina sprawling out below us.

I am wrapping up today's entry up here on the rooftop terrace, accompanied by the views you can hopefully decipher from the pictures. Jay and I will bunker down here for the night, trusting these ancient walls to keep the chaos at bay. Tomorrow, we throw ourselves back into the labyrinth to properly explore the Medina and the rest of Tangier. Come Wednesday, we break out of the fortress entirely and head inland to the Rif Mountains for a few nights in Chefchaouen, which better known to the world as the "Blue City" or the "Blue Pearl." True to its moniker, the entire town is a sprawling, centuries-old maze where nearly every building, alley, and staircase is washed in brilliant shades of blue.  

Our Day Trip to Rabat

Day 04 - Jay and I opted to abandon Casablanca for the day, catching the 9:35 train running up the coast. An hour and fifteen minutes later, we stepped onto the platform at Gare Rabat Ville. The city’s layout is mercifully straightforward; we simply pointed ourselves north and walked down the colonial spine of Avenue Mohammed V. Our ultimate destination was the Kasbah of the Udayas, an ancient fortress that stands watch over the estuary and the aggressively busy beaches below.

        

The history of the stones here forms a rather disjointed timeline. Rabat began in the 12th century as a fortified Almohad naval base intended for incursions into Spain. By the 17th century, it had morphed into the Republic of Bou Regreg—a highly profitable pirate state run by Morisco refugees exiled from Europe. The pirate economy eventually collapsed, and in 1912, the French arrived. Finding the historic capitals of Fes and Marrakech too volatile, they designated this quiet coastal town as their administrative hub. When Morocco gained independence in 1956, the government simply stayed put, inheriting the colonial bureaucracy.

After wandering the ramparts, we grabbed a quick lunch on the walk back down the avenue toward the station. We rode second class for the journey—with each one-way ticket coming in at less than $7 CAD—and caught the 14:01 train back to Casablanca. A perfectly executed, highly walkable day trip.