Mountain-Top-Chefchaouen

I’ve really been enjoying my time here in Chefchaouen.  I’m loving being in the mountains.  I talked to Hanaa and ended up planning to stay another day.  I didn’t want to have to get up and leave super early the morning after my hike in Akchour and I wanted to spend a little more time checking out the town.  The timing works out too, cause Hanaa is hosting a wedding at the hotel and the guests arrive day after tomorrow, so I can stay the extra day, no problem.  Our conversations are giving me a little bit of Spanish practice too, so that’s fun and a nice challenge.

I’d originally hoped to continue on from here to the south of Morocco to see the desert.  I’ve been in contact with someone through couchsurfing who I’d thought about staying with before heading via Marrakech to Essaouira for the music festival.  However, since I’ve extended my time here (and in earlier towns, too!) I definitely don’t have time to do any of that now.  As it is, it’ll take all day by bus to get to Essaouira from here and it’s a little quicker to go via Casablanca, anyhow.  No need to add any extra stops on the way.   I’ll go straight to Essaouira tomorrow, since the festival starts the day after that.  I planned to be here in Morocco for that festival, so I want to make sure I’m in the town for it! I’ve scheduled an airbnb stay there with a couple who live in Essaouira just outside of the kasbah.

One thing I’ve been enjoying here in Chefchaouen is messing with people as they try and figure out what language to use when they address me.  When people walk past the shops and restaurants, merchants usually call out trying to lure customers into their shops.   With me, they start in one language, switch to another, and trail off into others in confusion, as I rarely respond at all or give them any clues or encouragement other than a small smile! (Bonjour!! Hello! Madamoiselle? Hello? Miss? English? Hola? India?…) And I have really confused some of the ones near to my hotel because I wore Indian clothing one day, wore American/western wear the next day, and then dressed rather conservatively the next in a skirt.  It’s great, though, because I can always pretend not to know whatever language they’re speaking as an excuse not to go into their stores!  I’m a little too nice and would end up in everyone’s store if I didn’t just keep walking!  Lately, in stores and restaurants, I find myself responding in whatever random language springs to my lips.  Having spoken so much Spanish recently and having toyed with and heard so much French and Arabic now, I find I mix the occasional Merci, Gracias, or Shokran in with my Thank yous.  I’m not even sure what language will come out, sometimes!

I generally try to avoid getting roped into most of the shops, but one guy I’d been passing every day finally got me to talk to him today by asking me about one of my rings (a clever ploy I saw right through, but I had time).  He was a young Berber man who worked at a shop selling Berber goods from the desert.  We chatted for a few minutes and then he asked me something surprising.  First, I thought it was a random trick to get me into the shop, but now I think may have been for real.

He asked me to write a letter for him in English.  He told me that he couldn’t write in English and that he had a friend he wanted to send a letter to.  He said most people wouldn’t even stop to talk to him, so he thought he’d ask.  As I said, I wasn’t in a hurry, so I went and sat in the shop and he brought me a little notepad and a pen.  He then dictated to/composed a letter with me.  He wrote to his friend, thanking him for a gift and then asking when exactly the guy was planning to come visit him in the desert where he lives and works.  Then, he reminded him not to forget to bring the vodka he had promised so they could sit and drink and sing music together when tue guy comes!  Inshallah (God willing), of course.   It was a great little note, actually.  I enjoyed writing it.

Afterwards, I sat and chatted with the guy for a few minutes.  He said he’d be going back to the desert again soon, and made it sound like he spent part of his time there and part here.  I learned that there are different types of nomadic people here in Morocco, with four different languages, other than Moroccan Arabic.  Berber has its own alphabet, which partially explains why he can’t write in English!  Although he offered to have me over this evening and play music for me, I didn’t take him up on the private showing.  Ironically, his was the second unsolicited random guy’s phone number I have gotten in the last two days!

Instead, I went and had dinner (a tasty omelet with goat cheese!) at a little restaurant overlooking the square in the kasbah.  It was nice and I enjoyed watching the people in the square while eating.  During dinner, I could hear the calls to prayer, as I had been hearing each day.  I tried to record it…you can listen here.

What I love about the calls to prayer is that there are many mosques throughout the town, and each one says the prayers.  They all start at slightly different times, though, and the resulting sound is like a crazy chorus in a round, which rises and falls in volume and tone (and tune!).  It’s an interesting song, but rather soothing in its constancy.

I returned to the hotel to wish Hanaa a happy birthday, as today was hers!  I was happy I got a chance to see her again before leaving.  She’d spent the day at her in-laws house, and it sounded like she’d had fun.  She was working when I got home, though at making Moroccan sweets for the wedding this weekend.  She gave me one to try, and it was a very tasty pastry!

Tomorrow, the adventure continues as I travel on to Essaouira, the city by the sea.  I’ll have to take a bus back to Casablanca and change there to take another one to Essaouira.  I’ll leave early in the morning and won’t arrive til after dark.  Another long, cramped traveling day.  Hopefully this music festival will make up for it!