The after effects of chocolate

We threw ourselves into Chefchaouen with abandon. In both Fez and Marrakech I had always kept an awareness of where we were and where we wanted to go, meandering but never truly getting lost. It may have been to do with warnings of how easy getting lost in the maze of their medinas, or it may just have been first impressions.

My first impression of Chefchaouen involved the owner of the Dar we wanted to stay at, but was full, giving me chocolate and organising another hotel for us. What can I say, I was given chocolate and content. So whilst we were being led by his son to our new hotel, winding our way up and down through the blue alleyways of the medina, I didn't really pay much attention. On leaving our new abode we didn't bother working out where on the map we were located, not that that would have helped as we left the guidebook back in the hotel. The end result was that we got completely and utterly lost. It was great! Of course we did get a little worried trying to find our hotel after dinner when it was dark and we arrived back at our starting location for the third time.

The medina is much more friendly than the ones in the major cities, smaller, stunningly beautiful and blue. Perhaps as a lingering effect of the initial chocolate we continued to feel relaxed and comfortable. We made friends with a shop keeper, bonding over the rock climbing book. The guide to rock climbing in the Todra Gorge is A4 sheets of paper covered with hand drawn squiggles, that supposedly represent the various rock faces and climbs. Hassan (the guy who draws the books) photocopies the pages, adds colour where needed, for example adding green trees or noting with yellow the time when the sun will hit. The book is quite spectacular and for us it would also have been incomprehensible. This particular shop keeper was from that area and a keen rock climber himself so an instant bond was formed. He then went on to show us in great detail the different designs on the carpets his mother makes and what they mean. There was no pressure to buy as we had told him we weren't buying, but he seemed genuinely proud of the rugs.

The town itself is a charming mix of tourism and just a town going about its business. It being the first day of school after the holidays the streets were often filled with the sounds of children singing in their classrooms. The markets were bustling with women buying their vegetables and the square with old men sitting watching the world go by. Just our kind of town.