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Filled with optimism that good things come from perseverance, we re-packed our bags, re-nourished our bodies with a final breakfast at the Palais Amani, and said hello to Youssef…our driver and guide for the next four days. Our destination lay some 500+ kilometers away on the edge of the desert.


In spite of a sniffly cold, Youssef was charming and eager to help turn our drive into a lesson about the wonders of his country. (Youssef works for a tiny family-run tour company called Ligne d’Aventure Maroc.)


We quickly left the medina and its medieval chaos behind for the natural beauty of the countryside.


In short order, the low fields of olives and almonds surrounding Fès transitioned to rocky plains and green(er) fields of the foothills. Clearly a lot more water up here. Apple trees line the roads.


Stopped in Ifrain, with its clear French influence. Buildings have Alpine chalet design with pitched roofs (as opposed to the typical Moroccan building, which is flat-roofed with a terrace on top.) This area is popular in the winter for its skiing and summer for its more moderate temperatures. Manicured public squares, fountains, and quiet pedestrian traffic stood in sharp contrast with Fes.


Continuing on, the trees turned to cedar and cork. Beautiful vistas of rolling livestock-trimmed green grass broken up by patches of rich orange-brown soil.


Drove thru a national park of tall cedars. Stopped in a grove popular with small, pink-faced monkeys. These guys were adorable, and they knew it. Youssef bought us a bag of tiny pears to feed the monkeys. Sometimes it felt that they were hiding their pears in one hand and extending the empty hand with a face that said “Oh me? I haven’t gotten one yet. I let my friends go first, of course.” But who could resist those adorable mugs. Nearby, children led decked-out donkeys up to us offering rides for a fee: “No merci.” (I don’t know how to say, “Are you nuts?”). Winding up through the forest, we passed the silvery bare trunk of an 850 year-old cedar.


Exiting the forest, we came to the rocky plains between the mid-Atlas and high-Atlas mountain ranges. Sheep, donkeys, and the occasional cow fed on the low grass. Our ears popped from the dramatic shift in altitude from Fes, far behind and below. Make-shift dams created wide pools in shallow streams for washing clothes. Tiny wood and clay huts dotted the valleys between rolling foothills. Occasionally a small tent served as a house.


We stopped for a brief lunch at one of the hotels along the highway that catered to tour groups…the Hotel Taddart. A simple buffet allowed us to nibble on salads and couscous and various meats. A couple of Moroccan beers washed it all down.


Rain clouds turned to downpours as we headed for a pass in the High Atlas. We followed the Ziz River as it carved its way through the mountains, eventually winding our way down from the mountains through the Ziz Valley. Stepped brown and orange ridges on either side of us. The twisting rocky river bed was lined with date palm trees and lush grasses.


The sun returned, as the clouds left their droplets in the mountains behind us (mostly). We made our way towards Merzouga, following a low, lush oasis crowded with date Palm trees. Hundreds of mud-walled houses hugged the edges of the oasis.


Temperatures rose steadily as we neared the desert…near 30 degrees Celsius versus 17’C as we crossed the Atlas. The sun set quickly, and the blue dusk was very brief. We spent the final hour of our drive in darkness, which is an interesting time along rural Moroccan roads. Darkness doesn’t slow down pedestrians, donkeys, carts, or bikes…none of which are lit until headlights cross them suddenly. And yet, Youssef never missed a beat and adeptly wove around all obstacles with barely a courteous tap on the horn.


We arrived at our hotel for the night…the Nomad Palace…a two story mud-walled structure with a generous courtyard. Our room was spacious and comfortably appointed. Certainly a far cry from the Palais Amani, but the desert charm of this place is definitely inviting. A group of local Berber performers drummed, chanted, and danced in the courtyard before dinner…and then led guests into the dining room.


Dinner was hearty and filling. Authentic enough for our tastes. A hearty vegetable noodle soup. A beef and vegetable tangine. Bread and fruit. A couple of sweet coffees made the perfect end to the meal. A friendly cat meowed quietly for scraps…which of course we couldn’t resist sharing.


After dinner, we sat outside to enjoy the warm desert breeze. Bats whizzed by our ears, snacking on desert moths and other morsels. The local musicians continued to entertain inside, but the throbbing drumbeat and rhythmic chants filled the courtyard.

We awoke refreshed, with a renewed sense of adventure. The challenges of yesterday’s trek through the medina had morphed into semi-romantic vignettes and humorous bumps in the road. Nevertheless, although Jeff was feeling defiantly daring, I was filled with an uncharacteristic trepidation…a desire to retreat behind the walls of the riad and hide. Not me at all…and that fear began to transform into resolve.


So, after another hearty Moroccan breakfast, we hired a guide through the riad…someone they trust and use often…and ventured back into the medina. Our guide was warm and helpful, and we were finally able to pass through the streets like a savvy local, without a single hassle or hustle. Money well spent.


As the Muslim holy day, Friday is notablely less hectic in the medina…except in the food markets. They are just as busy, and women shop for ingredients for the family meal. But along the other streets, many shops are shuttered…but certainly not all. There is still plenty to see…just fewer people to hustle around. And fewer donkeys carrying packs of goods down the tiny narrow streets.


Our guide was quite impressed how extensively we had traversed the city yesterday. Although we didn’t know it at the time, we had crossed (and re-crossed) most of the major routes…and many, many of the minor routes. We learned that there were some 9400-or-so streets in the medina!! Many merely tiny alleys ducking between or under the patchwork of buildings. We also learned that there are dozens and dozens (hundreds perhaps?) of mini-neighborhoods in the medina…each with a mosque, and a bakery, and a market of some sort, etc. each neighborhood also has a designated area (some long wall perhaps) with side by side rectangles painted in white. There are 33 political parties in Fes, and each party given one poster size square on the wall for election materials. Like everything else in the medina, this system seems basic and quaint and the very core of human democracy. Certainly doesn’t cost millions of dollars like our system! Not better or worse…just different.


Heavy wooden doors with metal studs often have two door knockers…one in the center and one in the upper left corner. This system is used in buildings with two residents. Although identical in shape, the knockers make two distinct sounds…one for each residence. The doors also typically have a five-fingered metal hinge signifying the Hand of Fatima…much like our horseshoes, this is a superstitious symbol for good luck. The five fingers also represent the five pillars of Islam.


Another benefit of a guide is that we were able to stop in front of the major mosque entrances and peek in…even taking a few pictures. Being non-Muslim, we were not able to go inside, but even from the many doorways, we could see the beauty and art deep inside. Colorful tiles ( we learned that green is the color of Allah), ornate plaster, tin lanterns with colored glass, and rugs…lots of big beautiful rugs. But we also got a glimpse at the people…men from all over the medina…seated to meditate, to read, or to pray. Heading away from the mosques, we noticed shoulder height beams across the streets leading into the mosques. This, we learned, is to keep donkeys and other pack animals away from the mosque entrances…it also forces and bowing before Allah near the mosque.


We were allowed to enter one active mosque, because it was also a school of some sort. The building’s courtyard was surrounded by rings of ornate details: ceramic tile in the lower third of the walls, (not to mention ALL of the floors); decorative plaster above that; and carved wood on the upper third. Simply beautiful. We caught a glimpse of the mihrab (niche pointed towards Mecca) and minbar (where Friday sermons are given by Imans).


Yes, we did see the tanneries. I cannot imagine doing that without a guide. We were handed sprigs of mint as we entered; useful for rubbing under the nose when the smells of the leather production get overwhelming. We got a perfect view above the multitude of pools where animal hides are bleached, colored, and dried. Pigeon poop and some other animal urine are both involved in the process. In spite of our guide, we did get a bit of a hard sell to make a purchase “or all of this will go away”. We held fast and did not purchase, and our guide easily got us back outside.


A stop at a restored building now housing a small museum featuring wood art. We loved the view from the roof…and a refreshing drink. Mine was hot mint tea; Jeff opted for a citrus soda.


We made our way back to the riad for a late afternoon lunch. Wonderful soup, sandwiches, and a fresh quiche with onions. Spent the rest of the daylight hours reading, waiting for our pre-dinner visit to the riad’s hammam.


Our hammam treatment was long and soothing. Scented salts in warm water to relax hands and feet. A nutty scrub on arms and calves. Scented oils, fragrant soaps…and an invigorating body scrub to thoroughly exfoliate head to toe. We drank a refreshing citron beverage. The heat was a bit overwhelming, and it was nice when cool air occasionally came in. Otherwise, the rooms were steamy, scented, and sound-less…except for the pouring of water. Afterwards, a cool relaxation room and some tea.


Time for dinner. A delightful pumpkin soup reminded us that it is in fact October! Slow cooked beef with artichoke and legumes. And a divine chocolate cake crumbled over juicy pomegranate seeds.


We turned in early after a long and wonderful day. What a difference a day makes.

The Medina of Fès assaults every sense around every turn. And frankly, it can be overwhelming and off-putting. But to dismiss it would be to overlook its history and meaning and the vibrancy of human life it houses.


We started our day with a fantastic breakfast on one of the rooftop terraces at our riad. Morning clouds began to break up as we ate. We dined on fresh fruit and yogurt. Bread and Moroccan pancakes with around seven toppings, including honey, herbed Moroccan goat cheese, and a few fruit spreads. Top this off with hot coffee and we were raring to go.


At the advice of our hostess, we decided to start our medina tour at the top of the hill and wind our way down to end at the riad later in the day. (The media lies within a bowl nestled between a couple of hills.) Armed with a crude map, we walked to the nearby carpark to hail a petit taxi. Taxis everywhere…nobody seemed interested in picking us up. We finally found a taxi and whisked us quickly up the hill, pointed us to our medina gate, and accepted our 15 MAD. We discover later that we were dropped off at the wrong gate…which made map orientation a challenge. 🙂


In we went. And what a scene we found!


The medina has areas that specialize in different products. In this case, we entered in a food market area…it was like a farmers market merged with a mosh pit. People were everywhere. Piles of colorful vegetables on burlap sacks. Fresh and dried herbs. And meat…lots of it…alive and dead…or soon to be dead. I even spotted a woman tightly clutching two pigeons by the wings, off to butcher them. This was a place for locals, and nobody seemed to notice that we existed.

The further down the media we ventured, however, the more desirable we became. Food stands turned to tiny shops filled with wood, leather, or metal items. All the classic things you would envision in an Arabic souk: finely crafted wooden boxes, colorful leather ottomans, ornate metal lamps. The catch was that if you paused for a minute to admire an object, a persistent shopkeeper would descend on you to start a negotiation. No window shopping here!


A very pleasant exception was an elderly man, seated on the floor of a tiny dark shop. He held a block of rough wood in his hand, and was using a foot-spun lathe to carve the block into tiny toy tops. He stopped and proudly showed us his boxes and other fine objects. He showed us clippings from magazines and foreign newspapers citing his artisanship. And he asked us to take his picture. To us, he was trying hard to be an ambassador in a world totally foreign to us. We bought a box…he threw in one of his tops. He smiled…and we walked on…further into the medina.


Back to our map. One of the challenges of starting at the wrong place on a map that is poorly detailed anyway is that you try to force streets and directions to correspond…you force fit reality on fiction. And you get lost. Which, frankly, is to be expected in the medina. No matter how hard you try, you will miss a turn, or lose sign of a colored route sign you were following. There are very few “landmarks” in the medina. There are three major mosques–one of which will hold 20,000 people (!!!)–and yet you barely notice them as you pass by, because they are simply doorways along narrow streets next to other doorways. There are no grand squares or manicured gardens around these mosques to make them stand out.


We happened upon a building being restored under some UNESCO world heritage program. We ventured in and discovered a hidden work of art being slowly transformed. This building seemed to have been used as a school until recently…chalkboards and rickety desks sat unused. Beautiful tile work and carved plaster doorways were being restored by diligent workers. Two stories above, two wood craftsmen toiled on scaffolding to strip, sand, and varnish intricate woodwork along the top of the interior courtyard. We climbed narrow stairs to the roof for an unexpected view of the medina around us. We cautiously paid the requested 20 MAD upon exiting…hopefully the money went where it was supposed to.


We finally made our way to the Blue Gate (which was our intended original starting point for the day), one of the famous gates in the medina wall. At this point, the sun was beginning to beat down more insistently, and we were beginning to feel the strain of the constant offers of “assistance,” or helpful kids telling us not to turn right or left: “there is nothing in that direction…only out”. So, we found our way to the Riad Fès, the top rated hotel within the medina. The riad is stunningly beautiful with multiple courtyards, terraces, and fountains. A true oasis. We had a couple of beers and contemplated how to possibly find our way back through the medina.


Fast forwarding a couple of hours, as the sun sunk lower, we had definitely had our fill of the medina for the day. Annoying helpers began to change their tone to more of belligerence. (One particularly aggressive “guide” implied that we had said we wanted him to help us…and badgered us for money.) Polite replies of “no merci” seemed to agitate people. Particularly as we neared the tanneries, an area of the medina that must be very popular since at every turn someone would walk up to us and tell us the direction to said tannery. It must work on somebody, but I can’t imagine who. At one point we exited the medina at the wrong gate (thinking we were on the north side only to learn from a kind German couple we were on the south side). Once again trying to hail a taxi to no avail. But we carried on…circling and re-tracing persistently…swatting off the helpers.


We finally prevailed finding our riad thanks to the age old way of navigation…using the setting sun to orient us to west vs east. Ah…back to our very own oasis.


A couple of beers later and a lovely breeze on the rooftop terrace, and we were laughing about the day. We re-visited the things we had seen for the first time in our lives. And we put some of the less-desirable things out of our minds. As the sun set, a call to prayer momentarily broke the otherwise calm evening.


Dinner at the riad was another fantastic reminder of the beautiful flavors of Morocco. A chilled local rosé from Volubulis with dinner, and then cappuccinos on the roof. A peaceful way to wrap up an eventful day.

Our taxi arrived early, as we said our goodbyes to our apartment. Certainly sad to depart Barcelona, but we have found a city to which we are certain to return. Yet another reminder that Spain is a very special place.


Back to the BCN airport, for a very quick check-in with Iberia and an efficient security check. Even during a busy weekday morning, the airport feels peaceful and quiet…the result of a modern, cavernous design that dampens almost all sound.


A short flight to Madrid. Our 20min connection between terminals in Madrid felt longer than the flight 🙂 With a stamp in our passport at Passport Control, we entered terminal T4S, with its wavy ceiling reminiscent of some of the Gaudí buildings we visiting over the past few days.


IB3702 from Madrid to Casablanca. A notable increase in French-speaking passengers provided an audible transition to the next leg of our adventure…Morocco.


Welcome to Africa. A first for both of us. Our start in Morocco wasn’t without its stresses, but we handled the challenges with the spirits of adventurers. Long passport lines. Slow luggage. An efficient but not user friendly train station.


Boarded our first train from Casablanca Airport to Casa Voyaguer, the main connection for high speed trains to the rest of Morocco. I’m going to suggest that the temperature in the car was only a few degrees lower than the temp required to make a nice brisket. A very nice woman confirmed when we arrived at Casa Voyaguer, since there were no announcements, no attendants, and no prominent signage in the station.


Transitioned to our next train, with high speed service to Fes. We chose a first class seat so that we could get non-smoking and air conditioning, but before you get an image in your head of a luxurious ride, let me mention that first class doesn’t come with soap in the bathroom…not to mention staring at the tracks thru the toilet.


Two VERY VERY kind young women helped us call our riad with our arrival time. For some reason, we could call out of Morocco but not within Morocco. Merci to these two patient locals.


As the train wound its way northeast-ish from Casablanca, we watched the sun dip lower over the Atlantic Ocean. Lots of sheep. Groups of people walking down dusty paths that seems to start nowhere and lead nowhere. A white haired man sitting in a dusty field next to a black cow. Rows of tin-and-wood huts dotted with satellite dishes on roofs that could collapse under their own weight. Bumper cars at river-side fair.


Our train stopped for a bit in a forest of low eucalyptus trees. I was expecting a band of marauders. We learned later from the taxi driver that our train had hit a donkey. Poor donkey. But I’m glad it wasn’t marauders!


We passed through Rabat, which was aglow in the setting sun like a scene from a post card. Old towers hilltops. Golden sand-colored city walls.


The sun set before we hit Mekenes. We sped through the darkened countryside to Fes.


The train station in Fes was the first sign of good things to come. It was a small but beautiful station, with tradition ceramic tiles from floor to ceiling. The taxi from our riad was waiting as promised. A friendly young man, who gave us useful information as we made our way from the Ville Nouvelle into the historic Medina…about a 15 minute ride.


A short walk from one of the car parks up a couple of narrow lanes and we were at the unassuming doors of our riad…the serene Palais Amani. Upon entering, we were transported to another world. By definition, the riads are historic homes with interior courtyard gardens. Colorful tile was everywhere. The only sound was the light splash of the garden fountain.


We were greeted by our cheerful hostess, who gave us an orientation to the hotel and the area while we sipped warm mint tea…heaven in a cup.


After a quick freshening from the day, we had a fantastic Moroccan dinner in the garden. A very private affair, there were only four tables. Truly a wonderful way to relax after a long stressful day of travel and grime. We ordered a wonderful Moroccan rosé…perfectly chilled and perfectly subtle. All of our dishes highlighted subtle spices. A simple puff pastry with beef. A layered veggie dish with eggplant and tomato topped with puff pastry. A hearty-yet-subtle entree of beef with two preparations of quince. And a divine lemon mousse with a sweet quince drizzle for dessert.


Afterwards, we enjoyed a local beer (Spéciale) on the rooftop terrace. The Medina is quite silent at night. Only the sound of a dog barking on a nearby hill.


A long day. Full of new adventures. But we survived and have grand stories awaiting us for the next 11 day in Morocco.

Cupcakes for breakfast? Frankly, it would be a crime for them to go to waste! Bill Cosby would approve.


Sugar coursing through our veins, we launched into our last day in Barcelona with a Metro ride out to Park Güell, a public park designed by Gaudí. The park is on a hill, so fortunately, Jeff found a side-door entrance that starts at the top of the park…and is reached by escalators. THAT is a smart move after a sweaty Metro ride. (The trick was to exit at the Vallcarca stop versus the more popular Lesseps stop.)


The park has several Gaudí-designed features. Walkways, bridges, and underpasses designed with his flowing/dripping stone effect. Each underpass seemed to house a different musician: a harp, a steel drum, a guitar-violin trio. The tiny Gaudí house/museum was interesting but underwhelming. But all of those were just the warmup to his signature features: his undulating terrace with staircase and matching houses. These features were bright with while ceramic and glass broken tiles. Colorful patterns and accents all over the place. A tile mosaic lizard sat at the top of a tiered fountain that ran down the center of a winding staircase. And two gate houses at the main entrance to the park…the roofs windows and doors all outlined in broken tiles. Doctor Seuss would have been at home in one of these tiny buildings.


A long walk downhill to the Lesseps metro stop (again…bravo on the research Jeff!!) and a short metro ride and we were back at the Plaça Catalunia. We grabbed a quick bite at one our cozy cafes. Beer and croque messieurs sure do hit the spot after a long walk in the park. And Into the Born neighborhood to visit the Picasso Museum…on every guidebooks must-see list. Well, frankly, it was ok. Lots of Picasso, just not a lot of the stuff he is famous for…since those pieces are in the biggie museums or private collections around the world. But his early work is quite intriguing, and Jeff spotted a favorite of his: Science and Charity.


From the museum, we returned to the Santa Maria del Mar church in time to catch a tour of the bell towers and roof. An eager young man shared his passion for the church and its Catalan Gothic style. Clearly, this is a church of the people, and it is beloved in Barcelona. The rooftop views of Barcelona just before sunset were a nice touch! Oh, and we learned that to solve the problem of overheating in the church, they simply cut three-inch holes in the roof to let the heat escape. They only cover them in the winter. That’s certainly one way to solve that problem!


We had dinner in a nearby courtyard at the whimsical Cheese Me, which of course specialized in dishes that highlighted wonderful cheeses. We started with an amazing autumn salad with a basalmic dressing drizzled over greens and a warm goat cheese au gratin. Jeff had a chicken dish stuffed with cheese and other goodies, drizzled with nuts and a fruit jam. My dish was creative ham cheese mushroom empanadas. All washed down with a couple refreshing cervazas. We had not one but three guitarists sing their way thru the courtyard. Two were worthy of coins in the cap.


On out slow walk back to the apartment, we passed a dozen cool restaurants we want to try on our next visit. Apparently, El Born is the hip section of the medieval city. We saw all the major sights, but we know there is much more to experience…soon.


But all good stories have multiple chapters, so we returned to our apartment to pack and relax and get ready to move on tomorrow.