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Published: December 22nd 2017
Today we decided to do a short cooking class at one of the local restaurants (in fact the sister restaurant of our first night dinner). So Constance, Becs and I crammed into the small kitchen and learnt how to prepare a chicken cous cous, vegetable salad and a selection of entrees. There was a minor incident with the propane but the chef managed to get everything under control before we were all killed.. The Moroccans use propane for all their cooking and there are donkeys piled high with propane bottles as are the trucks. Death by propane explosion is the second most common way of dying in Morocco after lung cancer. For $10 it was a lot of fun although it may just be a way of getting cheap labour.
It was about now that we were starting to think that maybe 3 nights in Chefchaouen was overdoing it. After the cooking class we had a rest back at the hotel before heading out for a drink at the Atlas Cheouan Hotel. According to lonely Planet this seemed more promising than the Hotel Parador with a disco starting at 11pm. The only catch was that is was a half hour walk up the mountain behind Chefchouen. But everyone took the walk in good spirits and it was an excellent opportunity ot see some of the ritzy houses that look down over the medina and the new city. Actually there was non-stop whinging the whole way even though everyone knew how long the walk was, but we were richly rewarded when we got to the Hotel.
The Atlas Cheouan is a more modern hotel (circa 1950). We walked through the obligatory metal detector and into the bar. It was deserted. Except for the two barmen who were sitting up in their Jason recliner rockers watching the soccer and smoking. There was a look of surprise and then a bit of an eye roll as they realised we were going to interrupt their night. Drinks all round!
They had a pool table in the lobby and given my unbroken winning streak against Gus it seemed like an appropriate thing to do but there was more eye rolling as cues and change had to be procured. The hotel has a lot of character and we spent some time trying to work out what famous movie it reminded us of. But we agreed it wasn’t Psych and it was more like The Shining. That did put a dampener on things. The barman visibly livened up when we asked him to order a taxi either because he would get to watch the rest of the soccer in peace or because he was going to get a kickback from his taxi-driver mate.
We went back to the restaurant for dinner to check out our cooking and then an early night, although we did watch The Shining on Netflix.
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