A small village nestling between the twin peaks of the Djebel ech-Chaouen, Chefchaouen is a paradise of little white and indigo hou ses. Its fountains dance under a cerulean sky. Its hill stands beside an azure sea. The different blues shimmer and multiply ad infinitum.

The light slides over the walls, in through the windows, and enters the houses, its rays scanning over the smallest cobbles, imprinting its twisted shadows everywhere it can. The pebble-covered lanes meander around flower-filled squares, going up,down, around and across as in ajoyous maze.  

Chefchaouen is very pretty. The wind is constant I y caressing it; the fig trees lean over it gently; the mountain looks at it tenderly. Travellers passing through observe it with envy.