I have just got back from a trip to Morocco. I have been several times before and we decided to explore a different area. Chefchaouen, in the Rif mountains, is a paradise for artists- but also for everyone else! In picturesque places like this I make myself see past the trappings of tourism and look for the underlying atmosphere. The medina is a tangled and confusing muddle of tiny up and down alleyways and streets. I find it best to allow myself to get lost- and once I have that attitude it is amazing how you find your way round instead. I suppose it is a bit like one of my tangled paintings. I lose myself in the textures and loose paintwork then find a path through the semi abstract marks towards a kind of reality.
The stone, brick or plaster walls of this medina have rounded corners and edges. Sometimes the paintwork has crumbled off creating rich patina and texture. Almost all are painted in every imaginable shade of intense blue. I saw french ultramarines, cobalt blues, cerulean, different tones of turquoise, blues that edged towards purple, sky blue, teal and more. These sapphire daytime hues deepened at dusk to shadowy shades of navy. By night-fall the magical dusky alleys took on the soft depths of indigo. It is an exotic oriental patchwork.
Chefchaouen, Morocco
When we had taken in enough of the claustrophobia and hassle of the blue town we headed into the mountains. At the start of the path we passed tourists holding their mobile phones as if their lives depended on them. They looked at the surrounding scene through the screens or placed themselves within the view to take ‘selfies’. I must be turning into a grumpy old woman because I just do not understand this need and actually find the increasing addiction to technology quite depressing. I feel that I am being left behind.
As it began to rain we decided that there were two options. We could moan about the weather or look for the positive. Having made our choice we began to see beauty in our surroundings. How the wet path shone through the misty drizzle, snaking up the hillside and leading the eye towards ancient groups of silvered olive and golden leaved fig trees. When we followed a similar walk the following morning in bright sunlight we realised that each day had given us a different kind of magic.
Argan trees? Not olives!
When we returned to our riad we chatted to a fellow traveller- he was about to lead a group of young people into the mountains for a week of back to basic living- without their mobile phones! He was literally coaching them how to view the world in a richer way. He described how someone might be looking for something on their screen that was actually right in front of them. The conversation felt like a coincidence after our thoughts earlier – and these moments of synchronicity became a theme throughout the rest of the trip in further encounters. It may sound fanciful but it is almost feels like there is a secret invisible energy that connects us all that we are not even aware of- something positive in the air that we are in danger of losing but can still access if we want.
