MOROCCO – FES

February 25 – 28, 2023

I took a bus from Marrakesh to Fes. Buses may seem long and boring, but they are not. I get to see a lot of country side. I pass through small villages and past farms to see where and how the real people live. We went past lots of olive groves.

I saw lots of sheep herders.

I saw people riding donkeys, like medieval times.

I saw solar panels operating irrigation pumps. I saw miles and miles of irrigation pipe. I saw a mysterious bright blue cliff. I even saw people joyously having a snowball fight in Ifrane.

And a mysterious blue mountain.

I got to the old city in Fez and the guesthouse manager met me at the Blue Gate

(which is green on the in-side of the medina)

then escorted me to one of the most amazing guesthouses I have ever had – Dar Houdou. Before I even settled in the manager gave me his phone number and said to call at ANY time, if I needed help. I then went on a little walk about to orientate myself.

A word about the guesthouse. It was a two story house. The main floor had a kitchen, open courtyard with a fountain and a small side room that doubled as another dining room and living room. The second floor had two bedrooms with their own ensuite. My bedroom had a window that looked down on the open courtyard below.

Breakfast was included in the price. Me and my German co-guests were served fresh squeezed orange juice,

coffee, fresh cut apples, banana, kiwi and oranges, cereal, bread, butter, cheese, 3 kinds of jam, honey, cinnamon buns, flat bread, and pancakes. It was WAY too much, but absolutely delicious.

Bear in mind that the old city of Fez has 9300 streets in a 540 acre area, with a population of about 100,000. It is almost impossible to do a census because most people do not register themselves or their kids with the government. Houses are such a mish-mash, it is impossible to go door to door to get an accurate count. It is an absolute maze.

Knowing how complex navigating through Fez can be, I took pictures of the entrance to the alleys as I went through on my walk-about, kind of like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to find my way back. I thought I was so clever. There was one major problem. On my way back, all of the vendors had packed up and gone. I knew I had to turn between the guy who sold scarves and the lady who sold dishes. EVERYONE was gone! I referred back to my pictures for any hint of location by the signs above the alleys. That was no help either. Many of the signs had been covered up by merchandise and the sign I had taken a picture of was like trying to find Waldo. I called my host and he asked what was around me, then a moment later came to lead me home like a lost old donkey. I wasn’t far from the guesthouse, but things looked so different when you are lost. I was told that the alley to my riad was the only one with wood on top. It all looks like stone in the light of a 7 watt bulb!

I was debating whether to hire a guide to show me around. Getting lost was the clincher. I had been to Fez 10 years prior and had a fantastic guide then; but I thought I could (and did) see something different. I asked this guide, who was born there, if he and his friends played hide and seek when they were kids. He said, “All the time.” He knew EVERY street and alley.

He took me to an area that had copper workers making everything from small cooking utensils to massive cauldrons. It was very noisy as the men pounded the metal into the various shapes.

We then went past a wood working area. Designs were drawn onto the wood then the craftsmen chiseled out the excess, by hand. The designs were so intricate it was hard to believe it was done by hand and not a CNC machine (computerized numerical control).

We went to Madrasa Bou Inania, an Islamic School and Mosque dating back to 1350. The minaret is made of brick and covered in decorative motifs. Each side has a different pattern. The spaces between the motifs are filled with colourful tiles that are hand chiseled to fit. The top of the tower completely decorated in a geometric mosaic of the same tiles. The tower is mostly green and is a good structure to orientate one’s self. The Blue Gate acts as a perfect frame when entering through that gate. The interior of the Madrasa was the ‘typical’ beautiful Islam building. Exquisite and intricate Islamic calligraphy acting as decoration. I won’t go into detail because no amount of description can properly explain the beauty of the place.

ow The legend goes that the founder, Abu Inan Faris, rebelled against his father, killed him and declared himself sultan. Then felt guilty tried to absolve himself. His advisors suggested that he build a place of learning on the city’s rubbish dump. The act of cleaning up the dump would represent the cleaning away his sins. The cost of building got out of hand, but when the builders showed him the account book he quoted an Arab poet by saying, “What is beautiful is not expensive, no matter how large the sum.” It is priceless, something that pleases man. Then he threw the account book in the river.

We also went to a pottery and mosaic factory. I watched the entire process from making the clay to selling it on the shelf. I watched someone take the raw clay and mold it into pots, bowls and dishes and vases on the potters wheel. Each piece was exactly the same size and shape as its counterpart. Obviously this guy had done this a few times. It was left to dry on a shelf for a period of time, then hand painted!

It was then fired in the kiln. Sometimes pewter and semi-precious stones were added as an extra bonus after the firing. This pottery is for sale in nearly every shop. To see how it is made really added value to the items.

The mosaic part of the factory mostly made fountains and tables. A pattern for the design was drawn out on paper. Then the pieces of coloured tile were hand chiseled to the correct shape to fit the design. Some shapes were complex stars, curved leaves or blossoms. The entire thing is made with the coloured parts facing down. The guy really had to remember what color went where in order for the finished design to be correct.

They shipped all over the world.

I also went to a Jewish Cemetery. There were thousands of blinding white domed tombs, freshly painted in 2019, that seemingly went on forever.

Across the street from the Jewish Cemetery was the Royal Palace. I was not allowed inside, and could only take pictures of the beautiful doors

and courtyard.

Then I was taken to a large hill where I got a real bird’s eye view of Fez and a better appreciation of just how big the cemetery was.

I asked my guide about a nice hammam, a public steam bath. He suggested Royal Medina Spa Ben Abad. He brought me to the spa and I booked a session for the next day. I said I would get lost finding the place on my own. No problem, we will send someone to fetch you a half hour before. Perfect. I waited at the riad (guesthouse) until the prearranged pick up time and no one came. Since my riad was on a dead end street, I decided to walk to the main alley to meet the fellow and hurry the walk along. When I got to the main alley a young fellow asked if I was going to the hammam. Yes, I am. He lead me to a different place. I explained that I had a reservation. Not with us. Thankfully, I had the business card from my hammam. They called the other spa and told the young man to take me there, but not before the cops showed up wondering what was going on.

I was late, but explained what happened and they graciously fit me in. I was taken into an ancient stone room that was obviously built hundreds of years ago. I was stripped down and scrubbed with mud then was made to rest on a stone table. I had visions of Abraham about to kill his only son. However, the ladies left me to simmer in my mud scrub and I think I actually drifted off for a moment. When they returned they washed me off then sent me for my massage. It is one of the most wonderful experiences I have ever had. I truly felt pampered. It is an experience not for the shy or bashful. All I was wearing was a pair of disposable knickers.

I made my own way to the tannery. This tannery was similar to the one in Marrakesh, but cleaner.

A fellow greeted me and asked if I had been there before. I replied that I had, 10 years ago. There was a fellow from Cold Lake (near where I grew up) that had shown me around. The guy looked at me and shouted “That’s ME! I remember you! You bought a red jacket.” He hugged me and kissed me then hugged me some more. He happily showed me around again.

It was a stinky as I remembered from my previous visit and was happy for the mint he gave me to sniff when the smell got too much.

Most of the time I was there it rained really hard, but in spurts. At times there would be an absolute deluge, then the sun would suddenly come out, only to rain again an hour later. Because of that, I didn’t wander too far from home. The riad suggested a lovely restaurant close by. (Yes, I got lost a few times finding it and returning, but eventually found my way.) Chez Rachid had a total of 6 tables squashed together so that you had to crawl over someone sitting at their table to get to yours.

The kitchen was about the size of a bathroom and had 2 ladies cooking up a storm. Tajine (of course – EVERYWHERE serves tajine)

chicken skewers and mixed salad were the specialties. Well, they were the only thing on the menu, so they were special. But damn, it was good! I ate there everyday.

You knew the food was fresh, too. Just past the restaurant was the food market. Again, I could go on and on about the food markets in Fez, but you have to see it and experience it to truly get it. There are piles and piles of fresh fruits and veggies.

There were strawberries that covered half of the palm of my hand. They were delicious and super cheap.

There were piles of sweets and nuts. There were sacks of spices.

There were live chickens in cages. Pick your chicken and they butcher it right in front of you. It doesn’t get fresher than that. I love just walking through these markets. They are noisy with chickens squawking, vendors yelling and customers bartering. The smells assault the nose with pleasant and gross combined. It has an energy like no other place I know.

SIDE NOTE: Signs around the medina are in Arabic, Berber and French.

It was time to move on to Chefchaouen.