I stumbled across the town of Chefchaouen online, (before it became insta famous) and was instantly attracted to its wild blue walls and houses that seemed photoshopped. Never had I seen a place that intensely blue, was this town for real? 

I had come to Fez in late 2014 with a few friends and we decided to take a day trip to this Blue Pearl of Morocco as it is sometimes known, to see if there was merit to the online hype. Early one morning the five of us got into a Grand Taxi, an old and very spacious Mercedes, and set off for the four hour journey northwards that would take us to this town, nestled in the Rif mountain range. 

After an uneventful trip where I mostly slept, our taxi driver dropped us off close to the old town and we agreed a pick up time in the evening. A first look around gave us the impression we were in a standard modern Moroccan town with traffic, pedestrians and advertisement on the buildings around us. We had been told to pass through the small arched doorway of a terracotta building facing us. This was the Bab El Ain entrance gate, so humble and dark that it could be easily overlooked. 

Passing under that low and narrow archway brought us to a narrow street with steps climbing upwards, and lined with shops on either side. It was very busy and loud, a real bazaar atmosphere. There were so many things to see, listen to, smell and experience that we couldn’t take it all in. The further up we climbed the more we could start to see blue all around, until we found ourselves properly in the old town, marvelling at the stunning indigo coloured walls surrounding us. This city did indeed live up to the hype. 

Where did we go? To be honest, I have no idea. We simply meandered around, completely and joyfully lost, walking down small azure alleyways, climbing up and down lots of steps, finding ourselves in tiny turquoise courtyards with beautiful potted plants, or coming upon small squares with elaborate baby blue doors. The blue walls would sometimes be covered in rich berber style red and orange carpets, a visual feast. 

Chefchaouen has such a unique feel to it. The town is much more laid back and relaxed than other places in Morocco. Quite a number of foreigners have settled here as well, mostly artists looking for a different life, giving the town a bit of a bohemian vibe. There is a strong Spanish influence, probably in part due to the Spanish occupation of this town for nearly 30 years till Moroccan independence in 1956. To this day some of the locals speak to you in Spanish, and quite a few of the streets we walked along had Spanish names.

But that influence goes much further back in time to the Spanish Reconquista when generations of Moors and Spanish Jews fled religious persecution in Andalusia, taking refuge in this town. They brought with them their distinctive architectural style that reshaped the cityscape, a style characterised by thick stone walls with low vaulted ceilings, arched doorways, pebbled courtyards, the use of lots of tiles and many water fountains around town. An enchanting place to get lost in. 

We were told that the walls had recently been painted blue again, something that occurs once every few years, which explained why the colour was so intense. A local we spoke to mentioned that the blue colour is used to dissuade mosquitoes and to keep the town feeling cooler. Others have said the town used to be painted white with green doors according to Muslim traditions till the 30’s when it was decided the walls would be painted blue. A few have mentioned the tradition was started centuries ago by the town’s Jewish community who consider blue a sacred colour. Lastly you have the usual cynics who claim the blue is a trap to lure tourists. Regardless of who is right, the effort is well worth it. 

After a few hours spent strolling around, we stopped for a late lunch at a restaurant overlooking the main square, the place Ouata El Hamam. I ordered some chicken but an intrepid cat got to it first. He jumped on our table and quick as lightening snatched the food from my plate. As with most places in Morocco, street cats are everywhere is this town. 

Perhaps because it was still Eid, the main square was relatively empty and quiet with very few tourists. We had a look at the Grand Mosque from outside and briefly popped into the Kasbah. The ethnographic museum inside the old fort was closed but we strolled around the gardens. Inside, the mixture of green trees and water rippling from the fountains created a pleasant and refreshing sensation, a sensation I got in other areas of Chefchaouen. 

We meandered down more cobbled streets and alleys, passing small shops with their wares hanging outside on hooks, or in baskets by the door or simply hanging on the wall. Once again there weren’t that many people around. We went into a soap shop that made natural skin products and tried some of them. We also looked into some of the handicraft shops which Chaouen is renowned for. We definitely missed some of the main sights without feeling like we had missed out on anything. We sat on benches and watched life go by around us, children playing in the streets, men walking by in their djellabas, all the while enjoying a calm breeze and the afternoon sun on our faces. 

We stopped for some afternoon tea and dessert at a small hotel we came upon whose name I can’t recall. The inside felt like a series of caves joined around a central patio, the walls were covered in tiles and light streamed through coloured windows, a magical effect. The hotel also had a lovely small overgrown garden where we sipped mint tea while enjoying the views overlooking the rest of town. The only other person there with us was an American who had spent the past few months living in Chefchaouen, writing a book. Chatting with him reinforced that Bohemian vibe we were getting from this town. 

Soon the sun was slowly but surely dropping into the horizon. We decided to have our dinner at another hotel, sitting at their roof top terrace with splendid views all around. From there we enjoyed one of our best meals in Morocco so far, a delicious lamb and prune tajine. As we ate, the sun set and the sky became pink and purple, changing the colour of the town. We walked back towards Bab El Ain in the twilight and had no difficulties finding our kind taxi driver. I slept all the way back to Fez. 

Chefchaouen felt like a dream, a blue and refreshing universe in which to get lost for hours on end. It was the most unique town I came across during my Moroccan travels, a small but worldly place in which to take it slow, relax and unwind. Perhaps it was the soothing effect of all those blue walls. I only wish we could have stayed for longer.