The Blue Line

One of my fondest memories of Morocco was the hours I spent wandering through the narrow alleys of Chefchaouen, the "blue" village. I had envisioned a beautiful old medina swathed in blue, replete with old markets hawking tourist knick knacks, cramp…

One of my fondest memories of Morocco was the hours I spent wandering through the narrow alleys of Chefchaouen, the "blue" village. I had envisioned a beautiful old medina swathed in blue, replete with old markets hawking tourist knick knacks, cramped hotels and airy riads lined along labyrinthine alleys rubbing shoulders with intricately decorated mosques, and a place devoid of locals. Yet, what I found there was much much more.

Instead of a touristed village, I instead found myself in a living medieval village. Narrow alleyways were bustling with small bakeries and grocery stores, with children being dragged by their parents to school, with kids enjoying an afternoon game of soccer, with parents off to the evening prayers or to the refreshing waters of a nearby waterfall. Despite the crowds, I found nooks and crannies of peace in the hidden alleys of the village.

Nevertheless, I returned in the morning, and wandered the empty streets devoid of people, with shuttered shops and no other color apart from the blue, the lifeline of the village.

Chefchaouen
Morocco

You can find one more spectacular image from Chefchaouen in my 2018 calendar. All proceeds will get donated to NRDC  and WildAid,