ATM Tour – Tangier to Fes via Chefchaouen – Day 6 – 16 January 2026

Since the previous evening it had been raining. Andit just got worse. This morning, when I went down for breakfast in the Villa I had to take a seat indoors. It was still raining. The buffet breakfast had the layered Msemmen, Danish pastry, croissant, jam and butter as well as cereals. A hot cup of Moroccan coffee in the morning had almost become an addiction by now.

Right through breakfast I mulled the option of going back to the Tangier Medina to visit the tomb of Ibn Batuta, the Tangier born 'Islamic Marco Polo'. I had missed it the previous evening when I visited the Medina. Finally, despite the incessant rain I decided to take a chance. I could not leave the city without ‘meeting up’ with one of the greatest travellers of all time.

I left the superb Villa Adam and drove 10 minutes to the Medina. Fortunately, traffic was sparse and I found parking quite easily. It was raining quite a bit. I walked briskly in the direction of the tomb, which was about 850 meters from where I had parked. In the rain, the distance seemed longer. And there was no let up at all. Narrow streets and slippery steps later I stood in front of the great traveller's tomb. There was one problem, however. The smallish building was closed. A lady came out from the next house and informed me that the key to the tomb was with someone living in the Kasbah.

Even though I was disappointed, I consoled myself that I could at least be there to seek the blessings of one of my idols, who I had become familiar with in textbooks. Ibn Battuta had travelled more than any other explorer in pre-modern history, totalling 117,000 km, surpassing Zheng He who had travelled about 50,000 km and Marco Polo with 24,000 km. Ibn Batuta travelled for over 29 years between 1325 and 1354 AD. I felt a great sense of energy there despite not being able to go inside the great traveller's tomb.

The lady took me via a shorter way, back to the exit of the Medina. I had become completely wet in the bargain. Back in the car, I set my sights to leave Tangier and onwards to Chefchaouen, my next sightseeing destination. On my lips was "Rain, rain go away, come again another day". The intensity of the rain was only increasing despite the prayer. At times the visibility was severely impacted too. It was a wet drive all the way to Chefchaouen, where I reached around noon.

I had slotted about two hours for a tour of the city, known for the striking, blue-washed buildings of its old town. It was raining cats and dogs and parking was hard to find. However, two parking attendants found me parking way out of where I wanted to be. Therefore, I decided to leave and not park there. This got them irate. One of them asked me to pay him for having found me a slot. I refused, as I was not going to use it anyway. I took the car out from the slot and drove through a very narrow street till I was about 50 meters away from the main road. The only problem was that there were steps in front of me! I would not be able to go forward and reversing meant almost certain scratches and dents to the car because of the bends in the narrow street I had come there by.

I was stuck, not knowing what to do, when a person arrived there and started directing me to reverse the car. I don't know from where he came and who had sent him. I knew only this much – he was a Guardian Angel sent to perform a miracle. It took me more than 20 minutes of nerve-wracking session behind the wheel, with fingers getting cramped, to get the car and self-extricated from that impossibly cramped space.

Passersby wondered how I had got there in the first place. But the person who was directing me was so focussed that, despite not being able to communicate verbally, his hands did the trick. One wrong turn of the wheel, a bit more of acceleration or even losing one's nerves would have meant disaster. HE gave me a calmness that is not normally my forte. Finally, I crawled out of the hole I had unwittingly got into. I believe in miracles. This one had just happened. As soon as his work was done, the person who helped me, just wished me and walked away. Unbelievable.

I decided to abandon any further stay in the city as it was continuously raining. I was scheduled to halt the night at Fes, about 220 km from Chefchaouen. The rain had picked up in intensity. The road, a non-tolled dual carriageway was poor in parts with potholes and cracked edges. The speed limit for the most part was 80 kph, with many stretches under maintenance and construction works.

The road wound through hilly terrain with resplendent greenery on both sides. Orange orchards and olive plantations studded the route as far as the eyes could see. There were many makeshift retail shops vending oranges. I stopped at one and bought two kgs of juicy oranges. The vendor, a friendly chap, made me taste an orange before deciding the purchase.

One feature that stood out all along the drive between Tangier and Fes was the overarching presence of police beats and patrol cars at regular intervals. I was not stopped at all. The route being mountainous and roads not well surfaced, it was necessary to caution drivers and ensure safe driving. I did not see even one incident that could be remotely described as dangerous or negligent driving. This, to me, is an important ingredient of good governance; ensure application of laws and prevent untoward from happening.

Ayman, the contact from the Dar Mansoura accommodation in Fes, had given me clear instructions of where to park near the accommodation. He had underlined the fact that I shouldn't enter the Medina with the car. When I reached the Blue Gate of the Medina, I called him up. He came to the car and took me to the underground parking lot, almost directly in front of the Medina Gate.

The accommodation was just a couple of hundred meters from the exit of the parking lot. I went with Ayman to Dar Mansoura and he gave me a bigger room than I had booked on booking.com. He told me that he could help me park in another parking lot a bit further away from the Blue Gate at half the price where I had parked. I was game for any opportunity to reduce cost, and he helped me move the car to the new parking place, that was overcrowded.

But his friendship with the parking attendants ensured that I got a slot to park the car for two days. I paid 60 MAD upfront and got back to the accommodation. There was nothing much that I could do because of the rain. Therefore, I rested for some time in the room and unpacked. Ayman suggested Mom's Touch for dinner. The restaurant was just a hundred meters from the accommodation.

It was still pouring when I walked as fast as I could to the restaurant. Mom's Touch is a building with four levels with the kitchen on the second level. Traditional and aesthetic elements were brought together in such a manner within the restaurant that the ambience was one to die for. I took a seat on the rooftop terrace, which was quite a climb from the restaurant reception, along narrow winded stairs.

It was dark and raining and hence, the rooftop views were not to be had. I ordered a glass of fresh orange juice, a starter of aubergine with mashed potatoes and sour cream and a main course of pesto pasta. I was famished and had time to spare. I leisurely went through the massive portions. That the starter and main course dish were superb would be an understatement.

While walking back to the accommodation I came across a vendor selling traditional Moroccan sweets. I couldn't resist the feast I saw before me. I bought a piece of gazelle horn called Kaab el Gazal. It consists of almond paste wrapped in thin dough, and scented with orange blossom. The shape of the sweets honours the gazelle.