Fes, Pots and Palin

Many years ago, I recall watching Micheal Palin on TV. It was during one of his many incredible solo journeys into wild and unreachable distant lands, a journey, as always, fastidiously documented by his legion of BBC cameramen, sound technicians, and luggage monkeys. Read more

Doin’ the Fes Shuffle

Moving on from Chefchaouen proved utterly painless. Within an hour of our gentle amble down the hill and to the station, we were on a bus and, by nightfall, were once again battling our way through the heart of another Medina – this time, approximately 4 hours and 120 km or so further south – in our first of the four Imperial cities, the city of Fes. Read more

‘Pssssst! You wanna buy Hashish…?’

The Rif Mountains are generally known for one thing and one thing only, for producing Kif, and sharing the love by exporting some of the finest hashish on the planet. Now, with such a claim to fame, it’s hardly surprising that this area sees a significant tally of visitors, pilgrims almost, rock up on a daily basis with their main intention being to drink water from the source, so to speak. Read more

The Medina, Chefchaouen

Our unhurried ascent into the Rif Mountains ensured a late arrival in Chefchaouen. The sun had long since slipped behind the ragged outline of the mighty Rif Mountains, yet the town was far from asleep. Insufferable daytime temperatures force all but the clinically insane to remain indoors while the sun is high, only to venture out either early morning or after sundown. Read more

So, Tangier or Chefchaouen?

Today, with our later than expected start, we were happy to have made it as far as Tangier. Now, a decision now had to be made. We could either call it a day and stop here for the night, or try to push on further south, as per our rough plan, and make it as far as Chefchaouen – a small, unpronounceable town in the Rif Mountains. Read more

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