“…Fifty Dirham, for a pencil?” I ask, incredulously. The proprietor shrugs and turns back to the soccer game. “You want kebab instead?…” I’ve got a nice idea for a story. I reach for my notebook and pencil to jot it down. No pencil. I’ve lost it somewhere. I head for the market. Chefchaouen is a…
…the town has become a bit of a pilgrimage for pot heads in the last ten years, because the hill country is full of huge marijuana crops… I ride into Chefchaouen with a sporty gent in his elegant ’70s Merc’ coupe. The steady climb up the mountain roads makes me alternately sleepy and dizzy, but…
>> This article has been updated. >> Read the latest version here. Sitting having my supper of cactus fruit and goat cheese in Chefchaouen, Morocco (pictured above). Rested and ready to hit the road, but the question is; to where? Gets me thinking. “The world. It’s big. I can’t go everywhere… well maybe I can.…