Each of these cities amazed me in unique way; the sunshine in lively Marrakech, the stunning view of Fes at night, and Casablanca's Mauresque architecture. But Chefchaouen was the city that made the many frustrations, wild taxi rides, and never ending bus voyages worthwhile:
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Marrakech |
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Marrakech |
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Garden of Yves Saint Laurent |
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Garden of Yves Saint Laurent |
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Breakfast in Fes |
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Chefchaoen |
When I caught my first glimpse of Chefchaouen against the mountains, I felt like a six year-old on Christmas morning who had spotted a giant box with their name on the tag.
Walking down the winding blue streets that imitated streams, I could hear French, Arabic and Spanish spoken. The blue maze-like medina sector was lined with the dichotomous Spanish and Moorish architecture. These bright blue walls symbolize the both the sky and heaven.
Now that I have returned to France, I often see grey skies and it seems to be an unspoken rule to wear nothing but neutral colors. My bright yellow rain-boots have grow accustomed to receiving critical stares. But some days, the sky clears, and the brilliant blue reminds me of Chefchaoen. ~
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