Tag / Fes

I was excited to continue my exploration of nighttime movement, first in Barcelona (above) and then again in Marrakech (below).

This chicken was likely bound for the dinner table when he snuck away and hid between the cars in one of Fes’ busy parking lots. Brave little chicken. Those cars come from every direction!!

From above, the old medina of Fes displays a calm uniformity. Layers of two and three story buildings gracefully cascade down the gently sloping hilside. Everything is so carefully packed together, that no streets or people are visible from above.


But as you get in a bit closer, the buildings begin to show their ruggedness. You can see how buildings were constructed…leaning on one another as they rose…like trees fighting for dominance (and sunlight) in a forest.

And then you get thrown right in. Street level exposes the frenetic pace of Fes during the day. As they have done since the middle ages, residents stream through narrow streets. Shops and make-shift stalls cram into every crevice. Its a scene that sets the heart racing.

And yet…hidden away from sight…stand calm mosques. Literal sanctuaries from the chaos just outside. Places that visitors can only peer into…and wish to explore…if just for a moment…to catch a breath…and reflect.

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.