Chefchaouen, Morocco: wet dream of every Instagram whore

The Asian-American flashpacker marvels at what he sees from the window. He looks astounded. “Hmm, the men seemingly dress like in Iran, in long trousers and with shoes.”

His gaze goes down towards his own outfit — shorts and flip-flops. Just minutes ago, he was bragging about the “dangerous” countries he had already visited on this trip – Iran! Jordan! Muslims! – but now he does not realise that Morocco is also a Muslim country.”

“Should I wear something extra?” wonders the Australian girl in hot pants in his company. Apparently no one in that country needs more than a peanut as a brain to apply for a passport.

We are sweating in a bus that reeks of a gym locker room that has not been vented for three years, on our way to Chefchaouen, and the tone is set.

Film set

Chefchaouen lies a three-hour drive away from Tangier. It is pasted against a mountainside in the Rif Mountains. Hence the name: Chefchaouen – or Chaouen – refers to the Berber word for horns, because the town lies between two “horns” of mountains.

Known as the “blue city”, practically all the houses in Chefchaouen’s medina are painted or chalked blue, in all sorts of hues and shades. In some neighbourhoods, even the paving stones are painted blue. In the evenings, the warm light from street lamps changes the blue to purple.

The photogenic setting is a wet dream for Instagram whores (m/f). The medina is ridiculously touristy, even though some travel websites claim differently. It’s an artificial environment. Unlike Marrakesh which felt real and lived-in, Chefchouan resembles a film set.

But the question remains: why blue? Surely not to appease tourists and their trigger-happy cameras?

Many theories do the rounds. A popular is that blue keeps the mosquitoes away. Our arms survived Chefchaouen’s nights unscathed, so that might be right. A less quizzical, but perhaps truer, explanation says that Jews fleeing from Hitler introduced the colour in the 1930s. A symbol for heaven and sky, the blue reminds them constantly to live spiritually.

I <3 hash

Talking about higher realms: another regional product is hashish. Morocco is the biggest producer of cannabis in the world. This is especially noticeable in the north of the country. Residents of the Rif Mountains used to smoke “kif”, hash mixed with tobacco. These days it is completely illegal, but it does not prevent street vendors from publicly and fairly unabashedly promoting their wares.

Here is our very first conversation in Chefchaouen:

“Hey man, wanna smoke hash tonight?”

“No, sorry, I don’t like hash.”

The man flew off the handle. “You don’t say a thing like that! Take it back!” he roars, blinded by rage. “I am a cannabis farmer and I have fields in the mountains. Your words are an insult to my culture and my traditions! Next time, you should say: I don’t smoke hash.”

Exploration in the weed field

“Something to make the evening more romantic?”

“Buy today, because I won’t be here tomorrow. I’m showing a couple of Britons my cannabis field in the mountains.”

“Come in, come in! 50 dirham for a dinner, including dessert and joint.”

In the coming days, we cannot put one step in front of another without a guy whispering in our ear that he has the “best quality”. That’s quite annoying, but nothing that a resolute “no” can’t solve. More annoying are some of the drug tourists. They are not attracted to Chefchaouen because of its picturesqueness.

So, are you allergic to muttonheads who smoke hash on the terrace of a fruit juice bar – as if no children walk by! as if there are no seven-year prison sentences for drug use in Morocco! as if all laws, rules and sense of decency disappear when crossing a country border! – well, you better stay away from Chefchaouen.

Holy city

One would get nostalgic for the good old days, when Chefchaouen was a “holy city”, forbidden territory for Christians, on penalty of death. It’s hard to disagree with the locals: Chefchaouen functioned as a refuge for Moors, driven away from Spain with fire and fury.

The legend says that before 1920 only three Europeans had set foot on blue ground. The men had to dress in djellabas. One of them was uncovered and promptly killed. Although I don’t want to rule out the possibility that he’d insulted the hashish of a local farmer.

Look for accommodation in Chefchaouen on booking.com.

First published in Dutch on Tom’s blog.