Chefchaouen: odds and ends

Apparently we are in the marijuana capital of Morocco.  Pot is cultivated in plantations here.  Many people of a certain type flock here to enjoy the cannabis.  We saw loads of people of a certain type whilst eating dinner last evening.

Kif, a mixture of tobacco and marijuana, is popular here.

For details, see

I am not interested in this stuff; one of my badges of honor is that I’ve never touched it or smoked it, and don’t want it around me.

The nights cool off quickly here after the sun sets.  And even this morning, as I opened my window to glorious sunshine and sky the kind of blue I’ve never seen before, I felt that chill one feels in the high desert morning, or in the Rockies at 7 a.m. on a summer morning.

Kevin was marveling at the same thing I noticed in my first trip to Tangier: the innate kindness and politeness of the local culture.  I wrote about this in a blog post in February.

Sometimes a hot shower is all one needs.  Well, that and a comfy bed.  My body ached last evening after my third day of walking well over 12,000 steps.  The significant amount of irregular, uneven steps in this town caused me a bit of tension yesterday too. I am ever-mindful that I broke my leg on steps, and I will always have that titanium rod in me.

I let a vendor pick coins out of my hand yesterday, rather than pick them out myself.  I’m certain that I paid MAD 20 for what was supposed to be a MAD 7 limon cola.  Seventy cents became two dollars, give or take.  I gave, apparently.

Watching sunset last evening, with a beer in my hand, was a reminder to let go of the stresses of first-world life.

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