Today we traveled from the Volubilis near Meknes to Chefchaouen also known as The Blue City. Under a relentless sun we watched from the windows as shepherds guided their flocks slowly across the dry fields. Trucks loaded with wheat swayed under the weight. Where lucky, cows lounged under olive trees, where unlucky horses stood like statues in the middle of empty plains.  Even the mountains appeared almost fragile under the mid day heat. Sun searing the exposed trees and hill tops. 

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We wound our way up the dry packed roads to Chefchaouen. There was an energy around us as families and friends descend upon the town to celebrate a local holiday. Joining the throngs of people we walk in from the bricked pathway to the mouth of the tourist highway. Oranges are freshly pressed by hand in a little cart. Women take there washing in baskets to the river which flows around the city.

 

People jostle together, glancing over and between to view the stalls spilling out of the indigo buildings. Keen owners calling you in. Inside wares are packed high to the ceilings. In the square there is not an inch of space, laughter and chatter vibrating back at you off the pavement.