Day 50

The screen on my satnav displays a line from ‘A’ to ‘B’. Other lines intersect my line but if I try to diverge, my satnav simply reroutes me back to my pre-planned path. Stepping off the path and not having a line to follow is a challenge. But, it’s also a pleasure not having constant mandates to pursue.

Today, point ’B’ is Domien’s apartment in Chefchaouen; Morocco’s Blue Pearl. We travel through a mountain pass being converted into a dual carriageway, the ground is rough and piles of earth lie waiting for the bulldozers. We travel towards the Rif Mountains and pass arid landscapes of rocks and shrubs. We also travel past police checkpoints, and see officers pulling over local van drivers, but not once are we asked to stop. Then, we see our first blue house. 

Approaching Chefchaouen, more and more blue structures appear by the roadside. As we enter the outskirts of town, men shout, wave and usher us towards brown-land car parks. We pull up by the side of the road but it’s not a suitable place to stop, so follow a man into a car park. He speaks fast and his hands move even quicker. Yet, he helps us locate the currency exchange shop and also a shop to buy SIM cards. 

With Moroccan SIMs inserted, we message Marlies, the lady who manages Domien’s apartment. With sweaty brows, empty bellies and growing fatigue, we ride deeper into the city. The streets are full of tourists, locals going about their business, and many many cats. We ride cautiously and eventually reach a road sign blocking our route forward. The faded Arabic transcript is illegible to us, but within moments a group of young men and boys approach and hustle us towards another car park. These people use symbols and codes to communicate a secret language.

I wait with the bikes, while Wiggy locates our apartment on foot, accompanied by an adolescent from the group. Steep steps lead to our base, so we park the bikes, 100 Dirham (about £10) for three days, and walk our bags down the narrow alleyways. 

The apartment is beautiful. I love its wrought iron intricacies, stained glass domes, tiles, and fruit trees. Entering, I’m still wearing my motorcycle balaclava as a sort of imitation hijab. However, when I greet Marlies, she is wearing a short-sleeved top and her blond hair is loose. Settling into our apartment, I remove my balaclava. 

I go downstairs to collect more bags, and the next time I see Marlies, “oh, I thought you were Muslin,” she says.  

 I smile and shrug, “ah, I only wanted to respect the Muslim culture while in Morocco,” I say.

“Aw, you’re very sweet,” Marlies says. She is reclined on a lounger in the garden, everything about her pose is lithe and weightless.

Up the stairs, I move our bags. The interior of our apartment is beautiful too. The hefty carved wooden coffee table has constellations, stars and circular symmetry. There are curved arches, fine metals, and domes of blue, yellow and mauve stained glass attached to the ceiling. The view from the terrace is spectacular. Rocks and shrubs protrude from the huge mountains that tower over Chefchaouen, while little white and blue rectangles protrude from the land, climb up the hillside, and vanish into the vast blue sky. 

Marlies’s friend, Debbie, is also staying in a different apartment. These two women are some of the most enlightened people I have met. I will share some of their remarkable stories, but now, time is limited and our bellies are empty.

The ladies suggest we visit Bilmos and try their vegan tajine. We head into town and through the narrow maze of market stalls, we pass street dogs sleeping, cats prowling, and salesmen ushering us towards their restaurants.

It’s true, the city really is incredibly blue. Varying shades knit the town together and create a big blue patchwork mosaic. Depending on their orientation towards the sun, some buildings have waned to pale powder blush, while those hidden in the shade look bright azure and sapphire. And the town takes its status as the Blue Pearl of Morocco seriously. We see trucks carrying hundreds of litres of blue paint in metal dustbins; they move across town and restore dull pieces of the puzzle. 

We are seated in an outdoor terraced restaurant and look out at the square, casbah and great mosque. Musicians play old songs with soft gruff voices, guitars, and brushed drums. Night is coming and up the rock face neon blue lights and warm halogen bulbs switch on. Then, from the octagonal minaret, we heard the evening call to prayer. A deep ringing voice projects across the square and medina walls to remind followers to come and pray.

Our taglines come later. The vegetables taste so different here, so full of flavour, health and vitamins. Below our tablecloth, a pregnant cat is sat by the legs of our bench. She continuously stares, unblinking, using her cat psychic powers to make me move the food from my plate onto the floor. When it’s time to leave, a tip is left on the table and a little old woman comes over. She is very small and dressed in a loose dark garment and patterned blue headscarf. She extends her hand and speaks quietly in a language I cannot comprehend, but I understand her request.

Marlies and Debbie have both travelled extensively. 9 years ago, Marlies set off to travel for 6 months but after being on the road for 2 years, she discovered she was pregnant. She travelled in a van, and in her belly, her son neither kicked nor moaned. They decided to settle in Morocco and have lived in Chefchaouen for 9 years now. Marlies has a magnificent energy about her, that has strength, determination and purity. She has huge sightful eyes and a rawness that feels like pure energy, which can be transferred but also drained. 

As a child, Debbie was always travelling as her father worked in the oil sector. Through the Middle East and parts of Europe, they would move. She was always the new girl at school and always bullied. In later life, she lived in a hippy community in Spain, worked in and got deported from Australia, moved around with a circus in the UK, and sailed to every island of the UK during the Covid lockdowns. Pretty damn cool. Yet, she is so incredibly warm, down to earth, and wise. Her warmth radiates and comforts those around her. 

Debbie’s philosophy is that if you focus on the negatives and visualise them, they become a part of your life. So, why not focus on the positives and what you want to make happen? Unlike a satnav, the universe has no bias. If you think it will happen, somehow you will make it happen.