Northern Morocco, the kingdom of kif?
FR

Translated into English.

PE Perju Globetrotter ·
In short, a bad choice on our part even though I was on fire! 😄

Uh, 😇... actually, no, I won’t add anything... 😏
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
Ugh!
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
I’ve regained my color and appetite—no way a simple case of traveler’s diarrhea is gonna ruin this trip for me!

We return the keys to the house, take one last whiff of the cannabis plants, and head off to Chefchaouen, the Jodhpur of the Rif.

This mountain town draws tourists from miles around thanks to its medina, instantly recognizable with its palette of blues.

We park easily just outside the old city and it doesn’t take long before we’re completely blown away!





















It’s honestly super cute, but we’re arriving years too late.
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
Souvenir vendors take up entire streets, and buses unload groups from all five continents.

Locals have found a clever way to boost their purchasing power: turning a street corner into an Instagram-worthy backdrop...

And so I scrub thoroughly, make sure the blue stays spotless, arrange hearts, pom-pom hats, and—most importantly—don’t forget the little dish and the sign: Photo - 5 Dirhams!

10 for those who want more.

The upside is that the medina is spotless, which really stands out compared to all the others...

And it’s pretty fun watching people strike poses in front of the various backdrops dreamed up by the Chaounis.

Still, the charm works its magic, and I don’t regret stopping here at all!













This urban stroll really worked up my appetite—how about you?

I ward off bad luck by sipping another lemon juice and let myself be tempted by an octopus salad with potatoes.





One last walk through the big blue leads us to the large Uta el Hamman square.

We watch the hustle of touts from the various restaurants lining this lively esplanade before heading back to the Sandero.





Ninety minutes later, we arrive in Tétouan, the stopover city chosen for the next two nights.

The reserved riad is located outside the city, on the other side of the Martil river on the Torreta hill.

Perfect for my need for peace and quiet, but not so great for being close to a restaurant...
LA Lagardevicto Veteran ·
Yep, just like Mont Saint-Michel, Carcassonne, Saint-Tropez, etc. ... After nearly twenty consecutive winters spent in Morocco, I’ve also noticed the effects of overtourism—something I’ve been part of too. That’s why I got myself an old VW Syncro 4x4, which for now lets me escape into the depths of the Atlas Mountains. So far, so good.
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
Yeah, it’s definitely quieter once you get away from the big cities and the most touristy spots!
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
A fine drizzle replaced the blue sky in the morning.

So we linger a bit in the gorgeous room where breakfast is served.



A little, but not enough to bring the sun back!

This gloomy weather isn’t really suited for a proper stroll through the streets of Tétouan. So we decide to take the car and explore from the comfort of shelter...

Our goal? The coastline between Martil and Cabo Negro.



There’s not a soul on the beaches, and the two seaside resorts seem pretty deserted.

We’ve left behind the Morocco of tight month-ends and entered a much wealthier world!

Two signs don’t lie: the barriers blocking access to various more or less luxurious condominiums and the cleanliness!

Employees sweep the sidewalks and gutters. They pick up every leaf that falls, every scrap of paper that blows away.

Signs indicate it’s forbidden to walk on the lawns, and—most surprising—people actually respect them.

The sand, though, remains untouched and doesn’t exactly invite you to lie down...



Hey, the clouds seem to be clearing! Should we head back to finally visit white Tétouan?



We park near the medina and head out for lunch in town.



After enjoying our fish, we pass through the gates of the old city and wander the streets at random.
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
Goodbye to pristine sidewalks and immaculate lawns—we’re back in the real Morocco, especially up in the hills of the city.





















I don’t know if it was the weather, but I wasn’t exactly blown away by Tétouan’s faded charm.

Sure, there weren’t many tourists, but there wasn’t much to sink your teeth into either...
KA Kate Globetrotter ·
I haven’t been there in ages, but I remember seeing café terraces full of men drinking beer. Is that still the case?

Didn’t you visit the lovely medina and the Art Nouveau streets?
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
Uhhh, all the photos were taken in the medina!

I didn’t see a single beer drinker. There wasn’t even alcohol at the restaurant in the best hotel in town...

Didn’t see any Art Nouveau streets either.

Afterward, we didn’t linger given the weather and the so-so interest of what we saw.

Under bright sunshine, maybe I’d have had a different opinion?
MU Muriel18 Globetrotter ·
I think the color of the sky really affects the vibe and the impression a place leaves, no matter where it is.
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
Yeah, especially in the city.

Some landscapes can look better, especially under extraordinary weather conditions (snow, storms, very dramatic skies, etc.) that make up for the lack of brightness.

A plain gray sky + drizzle = total bummer! 🤪
MU Muriel18 Globetrotter ·
Totally agree!
KA Kate Globetrotter ·
Uhhh, all the photos were taken in the medina!

I replied right away without taking the time to look at the photos, I admit. And then I forgot.

When the weather isn’t cooperating, we perceive things differently, especially in a country where you expect to see sunshine. After all, it depends on the person…
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
The sun is back for this new day!



Maybe we’ll find the beaches prettier?

We’re heading first toward Fnideq, following the coast.

A bit of gray still lingers in the landscape, but the blue definitely wins out in the end!





The cleaning staff are still hard at work—no surprise, since these beaches are home to the country’s most expensive hotels.

Hotels like the Royal Mansour, at over 500 € a night off-season.

And don’t think the clientele isn’t local...

We’re now parking near Fnideq beach.

Moroccan school holidays ended two weeks ago, so there’s not a soul around!

But the royal gendarmes are here, though...

Ceuta is right across from us—a Spanish enclave in Moroccan territory that stirs up all kinds of desires among those left behind by the country’s economic growth.



With all this police presence, it’s hard to imagine that the recent wave of migration this tiny Spanish outpost has faced wasn’t somehow encouraged by local authorities...
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
We’re skirting the wall built between the two countries to reach Belyounech, the northernmost village in Morocco.

We’re now in sight of the Rock of Gibraltar, a British territory clinging to the Iberian Peninsula.



It’s always crawling with armored vehicles and military personnel—too bad, there must be some great hikes in the area.









Back on the main road, we’re following the Pillars of Hercules.

Only about fifteen kilometers separate Europe from Africa at their closest point here!



Gurgling sounds are coming from the Sandero’s cabin.

Isn’t it lunchtime yet?

Perfect timing—there’s a well-rated fish restaurant just a few kilometers away!

The view from its windows is stunning, but the real show is inside the dining room.

It’s actually the go-to spot for the elite employees of the nearby Tanger Med port, and if food poisoning is rampant here, I doubt this place will last long... (Bones, anyone?)



Now we’re off to stretch our legs on the gorgeous Dalia Beach.



I’ll dip my toe in the crystal-clear water, but that’s it—it’s way too chilly!



The massive Tanger Med port sprawls just beyond.

Endless docks, vast warehouses, and containers galore, all clustered about thirty kilometers from Tangier—a mythical city whose outlines we soon spot.

This metropolis is home to over 1.4 million people, ten times more than in 1950.

If you’re into peaceful villages and lush countryside, give this a miss!

Our riad is on the other side of the city, in the upscale Boubana district with its manicured lawns.

The villa is quiet as expected, but the room lacks charm and natural light.

I really struggled to find a place that met all my criteria!

Either it was too expensive, had no parking, was noisy, or was run-down...

We’re feeling a bit lazy about going out again, so we’ll have dinner here.

Not exactly amazing, huh?

We’ll make the effort to head into town tomorrow night!
MU Muriel18 Globetrotter ·
For this new day, the sun is back! Maybe we’ll find the beaches even prettier?

Your photos prove it 😉
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
With or without sunshine, I think the coast is definitely prettier from Ceuta to Tangier (except for the port...) than from Ceuta to Tetouan (too urbanized). 😛
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
The day starts quietly by the pool where breakfast is waiting for us.

I choose to spread my crepes with amlou, a local spread made from almonds, oil, and honey.

A bit bland, I find!





About twenty minutes in a Sandero and we’re parked just steps away from the Grand Socco, a lovely circular square marking the border between the old and new parts of the city.



We don’t enter the medina right away but skirt around it via the steep Rue de la Kasbah, which leads—guess where...

Bingo, to the Kasbah.

Cars are banned beyond the gate, but if you don’t feel like carrying your luggage or helping your great-grandmother with her rheumatism, no worries—everything’s taken care of!









Prices displayed? Are you sure we haven’t slipped into the fourth dimension???
AT Attila Globetrotter ·
Tangier doesn’t really resemble the country’s other megacities. Its cosmopolitan vibe, its proximity to Spain, and its history have shaped it differently, even though Morocco is never far away.

We then pass through the beautiful stone gate and wander through the medina’s alleyways.









The Green Guide recommends visiting the Museum of Mediterranean Cultures. Why not?

The collections are displayed in the former sultan’s palace, and it’s really the setting that won me over.





The crêpe and amlou are now just a memory. Shall we go for lunch?

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