Whether You Call it "Fez" or "Fes," It's Still Fantastic

As I noted earlier, the level of tour we booked this time had optional elements to it, and today's all-day tour of Fez was one of those.  Only about half of our group signed up for it, which really surprised me.  We ran into members of our group at various times during the day, but I still can't help thinking those folks missed out.  Their loss, however, was our gain, as the smaller group was much more manageable, particularly in the often very narrow and usually crowded alleyways of the city.

We had a lovely view of the sun rising above the snow-capped mountains from the roof-top restaurant of our hotel.  We would have a similarly spectacular view of the sunset from this same restaurant later in the day.

Fez was capital of Morocco for more than 400 years, and as such, has reportedly the best examples of Moorish architecture in the country.  As I wrote before, there are three distinct medinas, or old towns, for Fez, and the so-called new town is in fact 400 years-old itself.  The previous night we had been driven up to some high ramparts on the southern end of the city, from where our guide was able to orient us and explain the various sections of town.  This morning we started from equally high ground, but on the northern end of the city, from a well-preserved fortification.  From this vantage point we could see a entirely new section of the city, sprawling outward into the neighboring farmland.  It is nicknamed "New Agadir," and it was built to house tens of thousands of people relocated after a devastating earthquake in the city of Agadir in 1960.  It was the most severe recorded earthquake in Morocco's history, which roughly a third of the city population killed (~15,000 people).

Fort Overlooking the City of Fez

Panorama of Fez

We made our way down to the medina, and as we had read and then were told, it is a literally incomprehensible maze of thousands of alleyways and passages.  It is a city within the city, and is the largest urban area in the world closed off to vehicular traffic.  Aside from foot traffic, the only mode of transportation within the walls is donkey.  Even bikes are not allowed, which is understandable, given how narrow most of the passages are.  Our guidebook had highly recommended paying for a guide if you were on your own, as finding your way would be nearly impossible, with no easy way to orient yourself; even the sun was blocked in most of the city, so it's hard to tell what time of day it might be.  We had a local guide for the day, along with Abdou, and another "wrangler" who's job was to ensure none of the party was lost.  With the winding and narrow passages, I'm still amazed we didn't lose anyone.  The wrangler would run down one alley only to emerge from another at many times.  I once saw him from a second floor window, using his finger to count us before he disappeared again.  As on earlier Gate1 tours, and invaluable in this instance, we all had wireless headphones, so we could hear our guide, even though we rarely could see him.

Navigating the narrow alleys of the Medina

Snail (blech!) Vendor

We had already learned that Moroccan architecture (which they trace to the Andalusian influence from Spain) is focused on interiors.  The exteriors of buildings were purposely bland, without ornamentation (except over doors), balconies, or windows.  That conveys the image of equity between classes, but then all the money and attention is focused on the interior of buildings, many of which were incomprehensibly ornate, even over the top.  The interior courtyards are called "riads," and we were told to qualify as a legitimate riad, it would have to have gardens and a fountain, and be open to the sky.  All of the light into a home was to come through the riad, and in turn through windows and balconies facing the courtyard.  We visited many of these riads, and not only in Fez.  Each one seemed more beautiful than the next, and Anna announced that our retirement home had to have this -- no if's, and's, or but's.  It was not open for discussion.

Souk Not Yet Awake

 

Souk

We were able to see, through a doorway, the courtyard for the oldest operating university in the world -- Al Karouine.  It is an Islamic university, operating continually since the year 859.  As such, we -- non-Muslims -- were not able to visit.  The same applied to the beautiful mausoleum for Moulay Idriss (founder of Islamic Morocco), several courtyards of which we were able to glimpse from a couple of doorways.  We had a fantastic -- visually and literally -- lunch inside the converted home of a merchant, with multiple riads which had been turned into dining areas.  The same applied to an incredibly ornate home which was converted to a carpet showroom.  Yes, we did make a rug purchase.

Riad Converted Into a Carpet Showroom

Detail in the Carpet Showroom

Entrance to Al Karouine University

Oldest Operating University in the World

Another Riad

Room Off the Riad Courtyard

Vendor Making Chairs To Carry a Bride in Her Wedding

Interior Riad of a Carpentry Museum

View of Old Fez From Roof of Carpentry Museum

Mausoleum for Moulay Idriss (founder of Islamic Morocco)

Another Entrance to the Mausoleum

Hat, Anyone?

Riad Where We Ate Lunch

A high -- and low -- light of the day was our visit to the famous tanneries of Fez.  There is a centuries-old area of the medina were leather is made and sold.  As we snaked our way closer to the area, the smell worsened.  As we were directed into another large merchant's home, we were handed large sprigs of fresh mint, which we learned we were to hold under our nose to counter (unsuccessfully, I might add) the smell of the tannery.  We walked up two flights of stairs, to a large balcony overlooking the tannery below, where men toiled to treat and dye thousands of hides.  The clay pools in which they worked were filled with lye and pigeon guano -- a combination used for centuries.  We learned that a kilogram of pigeon poop would fetch $2, which can quickly add up for a poor Moroccan.  The smell was overwhelming, and I still can't imagine how one might get used to it, let alone actually work in the pits below.  We were given the opportunity to shop for leather goods on site, in a series of beautiful showrooms, but the smell sapped most of our interest.

Not Sure the Selection Was Great Enough...

Only Non-Foot Traffic Allowed in the Old City

View Down to the Tanneries

Neighborhood Bakery -- Families Make Dough at Home, and Bring it Here To Be Baked

Somehow we eventually emerged on the far end of the medina, to find our bus waiting.  Whereas it had been very cool within the city, with many of us wearing our coats, as soon as we emerging into the sun, it was actually hot.  Throughout our trip, the daytime temperatures were in the 70's or so, with 50's at night.  Very pleasant to say the least, but the differences between shade and sun were extreme.  We found it laughable, too, that the Moroccans were dressed for winter, even in the open sun.  They all seemed to wearing black snow jackets regardless of the time of day, and the vast majority wore hats, many of which were ski caps.  That tells me they've adapted to their climate, and that it must be hotter than Hades in the summer months.

We drove to the middle-old medina from here, which neighbors the huge royal palace compound, and which housed the once substantial Jewish population of Fez.  We spent a long time visiting a huge Jewish cemetery, in the middle of which they were gathering the blossoms of the bitter orange trees that grew there.  The smell was intoxicating, but a difficult juxtaposition to the fact we were in a graveyard.  We also visited a Jewish synagogue, which had been converted into a museum.  We learned that only about 700 Jewish families remain in Fez, whereas there used to be thousands.  Our guide claimed that Christian, Jewish, and Muslims families had thrived in Fez for centuries.  I do not know how true this is, but that was the story.  He did say that most of the Jews left after the founding of Israel.  The story was such that the Moroccans generals installed under the French protectorate were convinced to stage several fake terrorist attacks against Jews (including a deadly explosion in a movie theater frequented by Jews), which successfully led many of them to emigrate to Israel.  Our local guide claimed, too, that many ultimately returned to Morocco, after the French left, as they said they were in fact discriminated against in Israel, as they were Sephardic vice Askenazi Jews.  While I believe the truth is likely somewhere in the middle, it was still an interesting historical point, about which I want to read more.  Interestingly, too, as we walked toward the temple (now museum), we passed many large, abandoned homes.  They stood in stark contrast to the neighboring buildings, which were in very good shape.  We were told these were the homes of Jews who had left for Israel decades earlier.  Moroccan law protects abandoned property for 100 years, so if the property is not sold outright, it has to be left empty (and untouched) until the years pass, at which point the state can claim and sell the building.

Jewish Cemetery

Sorting the Bitter Orange Blossoms

Former Synagogue

It was downright hot in the late afternoon sun, as we finally made our way to the royal palace.  As this palace, along with every other royal residence in Morocco, is closed to the public, there was little to see, other than incredibly beautiful and ornate gates.  We were all spent, however, after a full day of touring, and ending up in the warm sun.  We opted for an early dinner, at the hotel, where we had the previously mentioned view of the sun setting over this, our last night in Fez.

More Modern Area, Near Palace (Note Exterior Balconies Common Under Colonial Rule)

Royal Palace

Sunset Over Dinner From Our Hotel

Hidden Treasures

Every organized tour we have taken invariably includes "the bus day."  Some dread this often long day stuck in the bus, getting from point "A" to point "B."  Others like the time to recharge.  I'm pretty ambivalent to this, as it has both good and not-so-great elements.  Today we were leaving Fez and traveling along the spine of Morocco, running a line equidistant to the Atlas mountains to our south, and the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea to the north, to the famed city of Marrakesh.  I continued to be impressed by the condition of the roads we had encountered, and we traveled most of the day along a pristine and uncrowded toll highway.  This day drove home to me just how fertile a country Morocco appears, especially in Spring, as we seemed to drive for endless miles through all kinds of farmland, spanning olives to apples to figs to wheat.  As we got closer to Marrakesh itself, it was more arid, and we came upon miles of poppy fields, all in bloom I might add.  We stopped every hour and a half or so for rest breaks, and it was usually at brand new rest areas.  We even came to the inevitable McDonalds, which was spotless.  We had the option to grab something here to eat, but most everyone waited for the next, more extended stop, where we had a more traditional sit-down Moroccan-themed lunch.

Miles of Olive Groves, as Seen From the Bus

A nice element to the "bus day" is that the guide can use the time to fill us in on history and facts.  This is the element I enjoy of these longer days.  I openly admit to having known little to nothing about Morocco before our visit.  I admit, too, to having never even seen the movie Casablanca. I know...I know.  Whereas, too, I had visited Tunisia, Algeria, and Egypt for work, this was my first visit to Morocco, for professional or personal reasons.  Katherine and her mom had visited for a day, during a visit to Spain in high school, on which Jane had been a chaperone.  They took the ferry from Spain across the short eight-mile stretch to Tangiers.  Their collective memory of that trip is Jane being offered 14 camels for Katherine.  Alas, we were not to visit Tangiers on this visit, so I couldn't gauge if her price has gone up.

Marrakesh, like Fez, can be spelled in a multitude of ways.  We seemed to see an equal sprinkling of Marrakesh and Marrakech, so if I interchange them, please forgive me.  It is smaller than Fez, by about 50 percent, with just under 1 million people.  It felt, however, larger than Fez to me.  It also had a much more "Middle East vibe" to it than Fez, which had seemed European on the fringes.  Marrakesh, too, was where we would encounter a majority of fellow tourists.  It definitely seemed attuned to the desires of rich Moroccans and tourists, with blocks of trendy, upscale hotels and a casino located just outside the walls of the medina.  Within the old city were signs for all kinds of hostels and such, which is also testament to the boom of low-cost European airlines which now fly directly into Marrakesh, often for less than $20 each way.

Our hotel, luckily, was nestled among several others, on the quiet end of town, across from a very fancy -- and equally intimidating -- casino.  We were again divided into two rooms, even though each room was very large, with a sitting area and small kitchen.  Anna chose to nap while K and I wanted to explore a little.  We had read that Marrakesh was "the" place to shop in Morocco, but our two tours for the following day would not leave us much time to explore the souk.  Our guidebook wrote of an "artisans workshop" that was located outside the city walls, and where craftsmen had small shops with fixed prices.  It said that you would be buying directly from the workmen, but also paying slightly higher prices than if you haggled your way to a bargain in the souk.  Never one to enjoy haggling, more so because you can never really know what something is worth, I liked this idea.  It was akin to a similar shop we visited in Cairo last year, which was run by an aid organization.

The mall -- for lack of a better term -- of shops was very close to our hotel on a map, but as it turned out, it took about 20 minutes to walk there.  Marrakesh has a series of walls within walls, and one huge wall separated our hotel from the mall.  Using our phone, we navigated our way to the nearest gate through the wall, but it took a while.  Compounding the challenge was our first introduction to street-cross etiquette, or lack thereof, in Morocco.  Crossing the streets in Rabat and Fez had been a non-issue to date, with well marked and signaled pedestrian crosswalks.  Marrakesh, and Casablanca for that matter, were going to be different cases entirely.  This, too, added to the "Middle Eastern-ness" feel to the city.  Though painted crosswalks exist, they are universally ignored.  Cars would not stop and we soon learned the only way to successfully cross, with a modicum of sanity, was to just walk and look straight ahead, hoping that cars would stop and make way.  It was almost like wading across the street, as cars would fill all the empty space around you as you pushed across.  Adding to the confusion were the throngs of scooters and mopeds, which were everywhere.  As we'd see the next day, when we actually entered the medina, unlike in Fez, these motorized bikes area allowed in Marrakesh's old city, and it made for a much less enjoyable experience.  You always had to keep an eye open for someone riding through, which made it harder to soak in everything around you.

Passing Through the Outer Walls, on Way to Artisans Village

Artisans Village

Place To Go for Felted Hats

The artisans village was much, much larger than we had expected, and well worth the trip.  The quality of what we saw was outstanding, and not having to haggle was the cherry on top.  We bought several items, for ourselves and as gifts, and started to head back to the hotel.  We had signed up for a sunset carriage ride, followed by dinner and a music/dance show, so we had to be back by 6:30 pm.  We elected to take a cab, which was somewhat easier said than done.  Abdou had told us to never pay more than 20 dirham (~$2), and to use the "Moroccan stare" if they asked for more.  The only way to describe this stare is to say, "You just insulted my mother!"  We did not know from where to even hail a cab, and we were half way through a hectic attempted street crossing when a gaggle of taxis flashed through my peripheral vision.  We retreated from whence we came, and headed toward the taxis, which were assembled outside of a glitzy hotel.  The first taxi asked for 100 dirham.  I attempted the stare, but to no effect.  The next guy asked for 50 dirham, and I simply relented.  In reality, can I begrudge the man $5 in the grand scheme of life?  No.

We had just enough time to drop our purchases and splash some water on our faces before loading up into a caravan of horse-drawn carriages.  We had about a 45-minute ride through the city, as the sun set, which was very nice.  Carriages are allowed through the main square outside the medina, which is called the Djemma el Fna.  This was filled with every conceivable sight and sound, from men with trained monkeys dancing around, to snake charmers, to food stalls selling every possible type of food.  We even saw carts covered in live snails which the salesmen would peel off and place into a container, if you wanted them alive, or just as easily drop them into a bubbling cauldron in the center of the cart, for some fresh fast food.  It was a sight to behold, and truth be told, I was happy to have our first sighting from the relative safety of the carriage, so we could take it all in without being overwhelmed.

Carriage Ride Before Dinner

Koutoubia Minaret

Little Too Close for Comfort

Mass of Humanity in Djemma el Fna Square

Koutoubia, or Booksellers, Mosque

We left the bustle of the central square behind, and just as it got dark, the carriages stopped along a dusty street lined with vendors selling appliances, tires, etc.  We were directed to walk down a very narrow, nondescript alley between the buildings.  There were lights, but it still looked abandoned, and many of us commented that we would have never walked down there on our own.  The alleyway spilled into an open courtyard which looked as though we were in bombed-out Damascus.  There were broken ceiling beams and shattered bricks everywhere.  We were urged to keep walking, and turned another corner, only to see an entrance with dozens of beautifully ornate silver and bronze lanterns.  This led us into an incredibly beautiful riad, where a band of Berbers were playing traditional music and singing.  The transition from apparent bombing site to the utter tranquility of the riad made it all the more special.  We enjoyed a welcome drink while the band sang and danced, and Anna was even called up to join them.  The proper meal was served indoors, in a stunning setting.  The food was among the best we had the entire trip, and it was topped off with a belly-dancing demonstration.  Yes, it was toursity, but "yes," it was also fun and memorable.

Nondescript Alley Leading to our Restaurant Oasis

Riad of Restaurant Where We Had Dinner and a Show

Cocktails Beneath the Orange Trees

Hours after we arrived, we snaked our way back through the alleyway, luckily to find our bus waiting for us, for the relatively short drive back to the hotel.  None of us had any trouble falling asleep.