Brúarfoss translates to “bridge falls,” and I’m not sure if that has anything to do with the pedestrian bridge that crosses them, but the bridge is the perfect place to view the falls. We saw quite a few waterfalls in Iceland, and I’ve seen many, many waterfalls elsewhere, but I truly think Brúarfoss is my favorite one.
The first thing I noticed was how purely black the sand was. It was really, truly black. Not gray, not dark brown, not any color. It was entirely black. Nothing but volcanic rock, formed from lava and eroded over the years to end up on this striking beach.
Miznon is by far our favorite restaurant here. Created by Israeli chef Eyal Shani, it’s right in the middle of all the falafel stands in the Marais, and is often overlooked by visitors who go straight to the end of the long lines at L’As du Fallafel instead. But l’As du Fallafel can’t hold a candle to this place.
Chefchaouen is a relatively small town nestled in the Rif mountains in the northern part of Morocco. The Medina is up on a hill, overlooking the rest of the city. The streets twist and wind up and down through the markets, an endless maze of rugs, blankets, leather products, art and clothing. The best part is that everything is various shades of blue.
Fes, in a few words, is a sprawling, twisting labyrinth. Especially in the medina. We hired a guide to take us around, since we knew that even locals often get lost in the narrow maze-like passageways. We spent most of the day in the medina, starting with the Andalusian side and making our way over to the markets and the tanning quartier.
Friends, you have to believe me when I say that pictures would never be enough to show you how grand and tall and overall enormous this mosque is. A thousand words wouldn’t do it either. So, I didn’t really attempt to show its size; I chose instead to focus on some of the many tiny and intricate details that make Moroccan architecture (and this mosque) so special.