Morocco: Chefcheoun
Having spent a day in the beautiful whitewashed hill-top town of Vejer de la Frontera, Spain, and then crossed at Algericas-Ceuta to Morocco we have spent the last few days in Chefcheoun in the Rif Mountains. The people have been really friendly and helpful. Did a lot of reading in my hostel room (currently going through James Heartfield’s backcatalogue: need and desire in post-material economy, death of the subject next and green capitalism after that) and went exploring today.
(side note: they also have a form of third-world Fanta which is much better than the UK stuff. To all those who know what i am talking about, If i start a facebook group petitioning them to bring it to England would you join?)
On our voyage we encountered a maybe lovely, but definitely hospitable man whose quote i have posted as well. After a small streetside talk about football he invited us into his shop where we spent the day chatting, reading, drinking great mint tea and beer, watching the Japan game with a Japanese tourist and the shop-owner’s friends as well as eating AMAZING Tagine and Hobz (bread); It appears that we have amassed a little band of merry brothers on our travels.
Having then spent a good long afternoon with our new friends we decided it was time to use the al-hammam (public baths) for a bit of an authentic experience. Never in my life have i found cleaning myself such a thing of joy. When a small hobbit-looking creature emerged into our room with a bowl of hair-gel-looking soap gunk and a glove we enjoyed an amazing massage whilst laying on a cold stone floor, eyes closed, soaped up - it sort of felt like being in Guantanamo, but picture Guantanamo as heaven - being directed, scrubbed and soaked regularly. I felt like a pamperred Roman, but not like you see in those gritty BBC dramas, just a pure history-book utopia.
The road is great. a very strange thought is that i could just drive back. i feel a world away. this world is great.
PS: i think i was a trucker in a previous life.
