Riads

One of my favorite things about Morocco:

Getting to stay in the Riads there.

Riads were former palaces or private residences that are now run as guesthouses. Every one I went to was restored beautifully and opulently decorated.

Every single one of them was a surprising find. You might be wandering a really dilapidated alleyway in the medina with a sinking fear that your hotel is on this street. They are generally marked with just a small plaque on a big, heavy door. Once you open the giant door and step inside, it's magic.

Traditionally, women were not meant to be seen, so the courtyards are facing inward to avoid any chance of interaction. This ends up being a modern blessing as well since you are now isolated from the noise and smog from an outside-facing window. Many of the riads had a pool, and most of them had a rooftop garden and patio as well. Because winters are a brief affair, the courtyards are either open to the elements or protected with a retractable roof.

The rooms were pretty swank. Most of them had very high ceilings, and completely ornate ones at that.

Our favorite one was in Rabat- Dar Karima. It was a lovely place to stay, but what made it was how the people who ran it were the best hosts.

Warm and welcoming, and they invited us to dinner with their family. Huge platters of fresh, fried whole fish. Oysters. Couscous. So much mint tea.

When it came up in conversation that we were yogis, they called their friend who was a yoga instructor and we did yoga in their courtyard first thing in the morning.

They were the best, and I would head back to Rabat just to stay with them again.

Most of the Riads only have a few rooms. It's best to book in advance. It seems like Morocco is a bit hurting for tourist dollars as there were just a few choice places that were fully booked. No one turned us down if we opted to stay an extra night either. In Chefchouen, we were the only people in our entire hotel.

Riad al Bartal in Fes was by far the most ornate. Our two-story room had a fireplace, gorgeous tile work and carpets, and a very green-thumb gardener attending the courtyard.

You felt a little bit royal staying there.

Every place we stayed had fantastic breakfasts: Carb-heavy with lots of Moroccan breads, honey, butter, cheese, jams and fresh OJ.

Compared to the relative craziness of the streets, these were all lovely places to call home for a few nights.

Le Pont du Dieu

The area around Chefchouen ended up being a paradise for hiking. I honestly think I could go back and spend a couple weeks there exploring the mountains. Lots of parks, preserves and forest.

We did squeeze a hike in. People we met in Rabat kept telling us we need to go see Le Pont du Dieu- The Bridge of God.

After a little research, we found the trailhead. The trails here aren't really obviously marked or mapped. Local knowledge is best. For a longer hike, I would consider hiring a guide as I don't think being lost here would be very fun.

We got there early and had the trail to ourselves.

That is, when we could find the trail. We ended up blazing up a steep cliffside when the trail we were on dissolved into rocky ground. No markers, no blazes, no cairns.

Once we found it again, it was an easy hike. It probably would take all of 45 minutes to get there if you didn't lose the damn trail.

So I was told that late afternoon was the best time to see the bridge. Why?

Hello, sun.

Despite it being a bit tricky to even see the thing, it was impressive.

A natural stone bridge (reinforced by man) connecting two mountain peaks, a thousand feet above a gorge.

It was a really nice hike, but once again, the entire trail and surrounding area was covered with garbage. Lots of plastic bottles and picnic trash everywhere. How depressing.

Chefchouen

I had loved the blue-walled Kasbah of the Udayas so much, we decided to head to the high Riff Mountains. There's a lovely town there called Chefchouen, and the medina is known to be awash in shades of blue.

This is the lovely part of unplanned traveling. You go where you want, when you want.

We were trying to stop in a notable bird preserve on the coast called Moulay Bousselham, but it ended up pouring rain for a few hours and the visibility was crap. Plus, I had not a single waterproof item in my pack. Ah well. Sorry birds.

The Rif Mountains are kind of a sketchy place. I wouldn't have wanted to break down in them, or stop for food or a pee break.

You see, about 1/3 or the world's marijuana is grown in these mountains. It's the ideal climate for it, and it grows, well, like weed tends to do. It's everywhere. So one thing that was noticeable right off the bat is that the people here seemed to have a bit more money and means than, say, the villages in the Atlas mountains. Despite being completely remote, there wasn't as rampant poverty here. Although it is illegal to grow and sell, a blind eye is turned and the trade is tolerated, as these mountain villages have a long history of being exempt from Moroccan law. The majority of product gets processed into hash and smuggled into Europe by boat. So there is a drug lord presence here- Spanish, Italian, and French. We got a whole lot of mistrustful glares and bad vibes from the locals.

The area was beautiful though. It rains quite a bit more here than the rest of the country, and there are still old pine forests on the hillsides. There was constant pockets of fog and low clouds giving the place an otherworldly appearance.

Finally, Chefchouen.

The light fades fast in the mountains, and the color blue doesn't photograph at night, so we woke up early to take advantage of the gorgeous light hitting the medina.

The sunrise was spectacular. Worth getting early up for.

The medina here was amazing. Not only was everything painted one of three shades of blue, but the streets were narrow twisting staircases that wind up the side of a mountain.

It seems like this cat got into something.

A good navigational hint is that if the ground is painted blue, the street will dead-end. I didn't even have a map of the medina. It was great fun getting lost, and when you wanted to find the main square, you just go down hill until you can't anymore.

It's one of those towns that gives you quite the workout just to get around. We saw a lot of elderly, with canes, making their way with their shopping bags up the steep stairs. I really felt for them.

Aside from Arabic, they speak Spanish here more than French. This area was traditionally held by Spain. I had a conversation with a shopkeep where I asked questions in French, he answered me in Spanish.

Obviously, there were no cars or motorcycles in the medina here. They used donkeys to get goods to the top of the hill.

Or you just have a very strong back.

The old Kasbah near the town square had the best views of the town.

While it gets quite crowded here in summer, in January, we had the town pretty much to ourselves. We were the only ones staying in the hotel that we had booked.

We were offered hash quite a bit, but never aggressively. No one hassled us. The only other tourist we saw were some hippie types wearing clown pants and scraggly dreadlocks.

Not only was it a picturesque place to stroll about, there were lots of fantastic little shops as well. Spices, soaps, cosmetics. The good stuff.

I took advantage and stocked up.

Especially on the spices.