As one of the pushers in Chefchaouen said last night "If you have no grass, you no have been to Chefchaouen." He was right, I'm wrong. I wasn't there. I must have been in an Alternative Universe, because I wasn't stoned. I missed out on dope head heaven. After all I couldn't possibly have been there for the stunning views of the mountains or the relatively relaxed atmosphere for Morocco. Or, could I? I'm writing this in Fez, after a five hour journey on the bus. I spent a second day in Chefchaouen yesterday, wandering around the town, drinking mint tea
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