18.10.2004. Chefchaouen.

Oh deary me! Hashish...

19.10.2004.

Tucked away in a valley in the Rif mountains. It's Day 3 of Ramadan and the chit-chat from the street below my £7 hotel room is still chirpy. As a non-Muslim it's quite easy to get food and even beer, but you don't feel like stuffing yourself in front of people who aren't even allowed to swallow their own saliva from sunrise to sunset.

It's raining and chilly which is generally my cue to head south, but I'm going to stay one more night because it's beautiful, cheap, and there are some great people to chat to in the bar. George from Glasgow came up to me as I arrived yesterday and offered hotel advice and a sample of the local cash crop. Later I met Steve and Cameron, married from Melbourne, on a 4-monther round Europe and Morocco. Cameron used to work at 119 Wardour Street - I was at 122.

Coping With Ramadan - A 5 Point Plan.

1/ Have a sneaky omelette for breakfast.
2/ Skip lunch. Smoke some hashish instead. Sleep until 6pm.
3/ Go out and have dinner in the normal way.
4/ Drink beer in the hotel.
5/ Hey presto.

There's some fantastic stuff in the market. It makes you want to load up a van and deck out your bijou mews house in Highgate in Moorish chic. If you're a ponce. I might just have a cheeky smoke and a siesta now...
----ooO0Ooo----
Five hours pass in the haziest and most disconnected way. At 6.30 it's sufficiently twilighty outside to start thinking about food. Half an hour later I'm devouring £1.50's worth of chicken tagine in the company of 4 minute cats.

Lariam Diary.
No really unpleasant stuff. Maybe a certain amount of -ahem- personal itching.

It would be quite easy to come here and gradually fade away into a cloud of reefer smoke. To have a fat one at lunchtime, maybe two, then a couple more after dinner, eventually becoming a breakfast smoker and spending 20 hours a day in bed. Good job I'm off to Meknes tomorrow, where no doubt the situation is chalk to Chefchaouen's cheese.