Chefchaouen: 24 Hours in a Sanctuary of Blue

Chefchaouen is a city awash with the serene colours of the seven seas and aglow with the whimsical brilliance of the summer skies. Follow me through the city’s medina and take respite in her tranquil yet resplendent blue streets. 

“The deeper the blue becomes, the more strongly it calls Man towards the Infinite, awakening in him a desire for the pure, and, finally, for the supernatural.”
– Wassily Kandinsky

I didn’t really know what to expect in Chefchaouen. I’d seen pictures and videos of the bright blue colours of Chefchaouen online, and it looked spectacular, especially because blue happens to be my favourite colour. But I was wary of it being a disappointment to actually visit in real life, the way Paris is to people who come down with Paris Syndrome.

So when we pulled over on the side of the road for a photo op atop a hill overlooking the blue city of Chefchaouen in the distance, I was pretty amazed.

The quaint little city seemed so pristine, almost untouched, from afar. Brilliant hues of blue sprung out from the green slopes of the Rif mountains, warmly greeting the weary travelers making their way to the city by bus or car. Plaster-white houses interspersed little blue structures huddling together on the mountainside, and small black and white windows adorned the sides of the buildings, painted in every shade of blue imaginable.

Mohammed, our driver, put his fingers to his lips and kissed them, looking at us in the rear view mirror as he said, in broken English, “Chefchaouen very beautiful! I love!”  I smiled. I hadn’t wanted to leave the radiance, warmth, and homeliness of Fez behind me so soon. We’d had a fantastic full day exploring the ancient medina of Fez the day before, which I’ll write more about in the future, and leaving behind a city so rich with culture and tradition left a lingering sense of melancholy in my chest.

“Chaouen!” Mohammed announced, turning off the engine after parking the car right outside the entrance to Chefchaouen’s medina. “Welcome!” he beamed, holding the door open for us and gesturing towards the wide avenue leading downhill into the city centre.

Soft moroccan music drifted through the air from one of the small shops lining the avenue, and the cool mountain air was permeated with the unmistakeable aroma of Moroccan mint tea. Small tables cluttered with antiques, clothes racks and mannequins displaying Moroccan kaftans and djellabas, and displays of camel leather goods spilled artfully onto the cobblestoned walkway.

A white-bearded man walked past me, calmly pulling a goods-laden donkey beside him as he weaved through tourists and locals alike.

We made our way downhill into the town centre, Place Outa el-Hammam, a wide, open square flanked with Moroccan and Spanish restaurants and cozy teahouses on the right, and the old town Kasbah (fortress) on the left. People milled about on blue benches placed around the central fountain, and the neatly arranged tables and chairs of the restaurants’ alfresco dining areas were mostly empty because it was midday, too late for breakfast and too early for lunch.

[youtube https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrv-o8Va6-U]

Mohammed led us up a small street branching off from the main square to the riad that we’d be staying at that night: Casa Hassan.

I had a nagging sense of deja-vu when I saw the facade of the riad, but it wasn’t until later that evening that I realized it was because I’d been using a stock picture of that same entrance as my desktop wallpaper for the past year and a half, before I even thought of travelling to Morocco. Maybe it’s fate, after all 😉 Despite the inconspicuousness of the riad‘s entrance, its brightly-coloured interior greeted us cheerily as we waited for our rooms to be ready.

This was my favourite riad amongst all the riads we stayed at during our one week in Morocco, so much so that it deserves its own post, which will be up later this week. 😉 It was a beautiful place to stay in, with pleasant, comfortable, Moroccan-style rooms, communal lounges and dining areas nestled away in so many corners, and a splendid rooftop terrace to boot.

After exploring the riad, we met our local guide, an old man whose name escapes me, and he brought us on a walking tour around the medina itself.

If the streets and alleys of Fez’s medina were characterized by their narrowness and their labyrinthine layouts, Chefchaouen’s medina exuded quite a different vibe, enveloping both residents and visitors in a blanket of aesthetic calmness that was cooling just to the naked eye itself.

Despite her streets being so richly saturated with colour in every direction, Chefchaouen doesn’t come across as loud, gaudy or over the top in any way at all.

“Mosquitoes.” Was the one-word answer that our guide gave us when we asked him, why blue? I blinked. Mosquitoes? Supposedly, the colour blue helps to keep out mosquitoes from invading the houses. I don’t know how true this is, although we never had any insect problems when were in Chefchaouen.

Another possibility is that the Jewish refugees who escaped Hitler’s persecution in the 20th century painted the city blue in honour of the sacred associations that the colour blue has. In Judaism, blue represents the Divine and is the colour of God’s glory because it’s the colour of the sky and sea.

So painting an entire town blue from top to bottom has the collective effect of sobriety and tranquility upon its residents, and that facilitates focus, contemplation and meditation. In colour therapy, blue is used to invoke a sense of calmness, serenity, and relief from stress and anxiety.

In Buddhist tradition, too, the colour blue is the colour of tranquility; where light blue represents spiritual ascension, and dark blue represents the power of healing.

It was absolutely fascinating to witness the effect that the colour blue had upon us in real life as we wandered around the medina.

Unsurprisingly, Chefchaouen’s geographical location up in the Rif Mountains of Morocco makes it an ideal destination for spiritual retreats, and indeed, Sufism, a deeply spiritual way of life within the Islamic tradition, has a long history here. According to the permanent exhibition inside the Kasbah, there are lots of zawiya (Sufi spiritual centres) in Chefchaouen, from various Sufi orders including the Darqawi, Tijani, and Qadiri. You can read more about Sufism here.

Islam shares the same affinity with blue, although most of the time, it’s more closely associated with green. The most beautiful mosque I’ve ever been to is the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, where I used to spend so much time, and I found the same kind of peaceful comfort from within me flourishing when I walked inside Chefchaouen’s medina as when I sat on the floors of the Blue Mosque. I wrote about my time in Istanbul here.

“Like the blue sky and the blue cloak of the Virgin, the seas… are a symbol of Infinite Mercy… If this compound colour [green] stands for the religion as such, there is no doubt that by a typically Islamic ellipsis–for Islam loves to dwell on the roots of things–blue rather than green is the dominant colour of Islamic art… as if in illustration of the [Quranic verse], “My Mercy embraceth all things.” (Quran 7:156)”
– Martin Lings, Symbol & Archetype: A Study of the Meaning of Existence

Coincidentally, while travelling through Morocco, I’d been reading this book by Martin Lings, who’s one of my favourite writers. He was an Islamic scholar and an Oxford-educated Shakespearean scholar who studied under C S Lewis, and his work deals heavily with spirituality in the Islamic tradition and beyond. This particular book I was reading is about the symbolism of all things, and how each of them relates to the sacred.

Before heading to Chefchaouen, I happened to be reading the chapter on the symbolism of colours–how different colours each signify the Divine in various religions. Being in Chefchaouen itself felt like the contents of the book had come alive and were dancing around me in all their sumptuous colours everywhere I turned. It was magical, and, to me, an almost literal depiction of another Quranic verse:

“For wheresoever ye turn, there is the face of God.”
– Quran 2:115

We only spent one night in Chefchaouen, so we made sure to maximize our time there by spending as much time as possible in the medina. 

Round every corner and every bend, there somehow seemed to be a surprise waiting to greet us, from dimly lit vistas that suddenly opened up to wide squares completely drenched in blue that were otherwise obscured from view, to hidden sunlit blue corridors flanked by classic blue Chefchaouen doors.

Some tips for when you visit Chefchaouen:

• Getting to Chefchaouen: We drove into Chefchaouen from Fez, which took about 3 to 4 hours. It was a very scenic drive through the rolling Rif Mountains, especially because it was Spring and so the flowers were in full bloom! There are also buses available from Fez and Tangier. Read more here.
• The best way to explore the medina is to just wander around wherever your feet take you. Even if you get lost, you can ask a local to help direct you back to the Place Outa el-Hammam. They are more than happy to help. 🙂
• It gets quite chilly at night. I didn’t know this before I went, and I was stuck with a simple green cardigan which wasn’t enough to keep me warm at night. Maybe it’s because I’m Singaporean and I’m not used to the cold, but a warm jacket would have helped.
• Languages spoken here are mostly French, Arabic, and Spanish, like most other touristy spots in Morocco, but it isn’t hard to find someone who can speak English.
• Places to eat. We tried two restaurants, Chez Hicham overlooking the Place Outa el-Hammam, and Sindibad, nearer to the entrance to the medina. Both had good rooftop terrace views and good service, but the food at Chez Hicham was nicer although Sindibad’s food isn’t bad.
• Hiking. We didn’t have time to hike while we were there, but I hear the hiking is great around Chefchaouen, with beautiful undiscovered views, gushing rivers, and the picturesque Spanish Mosque.

Till next time! 😉

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