I miss Fes. Anyone want to come with me?
Written: May 10 '02 (Updated May 18 '02)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: The most magical city in Morocco. And that's saying something
Cons: I wouldn't walk alone at night. Not again.
The Bottom Line: Plenty to see, hear, taste, smell, touch... An awakening of all senses, far, far away from our civilization.
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| elsa70's Full Review: Fes |
My SO has plenty of outstanding qualities, but unfortunately, as the saying goes in Italy,he's a typical case of "chi ha il pane, non ha i denti". He who has bread to eat, doesn't have teeth to chew. Translate that in everyday practical life with a travel agent, and you'll have a guy who won't go to the Seychelles in August at 300 euro because there's a 10-hour flight to consider, and won't come to a free weekend to Fes because he isn't attracted to the idea of going to Morocco.
All right then. I'll pass. (although I'm nearly choked by welling tears).
Anyway, I've already been to Fes. I've been to Morocco quite a few times, actually, and really, really fell in love with this magical country. It has absolutely been beyond my greatest expectations. Above all, the two places that have had the most remarkable impact on me have been Essaouira and Fes. Should you ever plan a trip to Morocco, you mustn’t forget to include these two destinations in your itinerary, for they are truly in my opinion the most brilliant and astounding jewels Morocco has to offer.
I’ve only been to FES once, for two days in mid-August, arriving by car with my boyfriend from a beach vacation at Al Hoceima on the Moroccan Mediterranean coast. We travelled through the RIF on an old, beaten-up taxi with no air conditioning and an outside temperature of 40.2°c. I thought I was having hallucinations throughout the entire trip, which took us about three hours of driving on what were just a cut above dirt roads, but is actually the only street that connects Fes to the northern part of the country. It was a wonderful experience already – the red mountains, the desert, the wind and sand lashing at my face through the car windows...Then, all of a sudden, a few minutes before sunset, our driver parked on Avenue Hassan II. I was in awe. Beneath us stood a cluster of roofs and towers of all imaginable shades of yellows, browns and reds, truly a sight from a different world.
Our driver, as so many others before him, recommended we meet with a professional tour guide he was personally related to. During my previous trips throughout the country of Morocco, I have come to appreciate this sort of recommendation, because it has proven to be quite reliable and inexpensive, and since I had heard of many stories of people getting lost for hours at end in Fes, we gladly accepted his offer.
We then arrived in front of our hotel – the Ibis Moussafir, part of the French Accor chain; a three-star hotel, centrally located on the avenue des Almohades on the border of the Nouvelle Ville (the new city) with the Medina, a few steps from the Sheraton, and an overall very good value, with tidy, efficient service, well appointed rooms and an overall very typical Moroccan atmosphere for a French-owned property. We took a quick shower, changed and ventured outside the hotel awaiting for our taxi driver Mohammed and his cousin Mohammed (who would be our tour guide). Within fifteen minutes, we were off for our first exploration of the incredible maze that is called Fes-el Bali, the old part of the Fes Medina. Our guide Mohammed, while leading us through narrow streets and small winding stairways, gave us a broad overview of the city’s history and attractions.
Fes was originally the first Imperial City in Morocco, and definitely is the most Imperial of all Imperial cities. It was first declared an Imperial city in 809 under the Idriss II reign, and was again the capital of Morocco for three other times in history. The old town of Fes is split in two, with Fes-el-Bali being the oldest part and Fes-el-Jedid the most recent addition, that is, in ancient times: for the first inhabitants of Fes-el-Bali were the Arabs from Spanish Andalusia who had been shunned from the Christian army of Spain. About a century later, they shared their land with the Tunisians arriving from Kerouan. The origins of this city perhaps explain why Fes is truly the melting pot of Morocco even as of today, and hosts the most important university of the nation and one of the most important cultural headquarters throughout the Maghreb (Northen Arab Africa). Within the walls of Fes – the two old cities that add up to one are fortified, with modern Fes developing outside of the Medioeval walls – the Spanish and the African, the Christian , the Jewish and the Arab, have cohabited for by now almost 1200 years, each leaving important testimonials of their installations; the Northern facade of the Andalus Mosque, the Medersa Serhji tower, the university itself (Al Qaraouiyyin) are just the first and most outstanding evidence of the passage of diverse yet wonderfully complementary cultures that come to my mind right now.
Back to our wanderings in the dark alleys of the Médina... We had been walking in the old town for an hour, through small squares where old men smoked a pipe or played the flute while glaring at us, dark passages and long stairways that led to other tiny winding streets and courtyards, with our guide pointing out to Turkish baths, then to traditional homes, then the umpteenth mosque within a quarter-mile..Our senses were getting overwhelmed by the sounds, the voices, the odors that seemed to arrive from every corner and invade us...Mohammed asked us if we had had our evening meal, which of course, being it 8 p.m., we hadn’t. So we decided to invite him to dine with us, providing he would take us to a typical restaurant he would be likely to go to with his own family. And he sure did; the restaurant was a small, family-run restaurant in the heart of the Médina that only served typical dishes such as Tajine and Mèchoui, mint tea and grilled meats, and all customers except for us were locals. I believe the name of the restaurant was Dar Saada... Well, needless to say, once we overcame our initial fears, we delved our HANDS into the generous portions of couscous that had been served and thoroughly enjoyed our meal.
After our cheap and lovely dinner, being on the borders of the Souk el Attarin, we were led into the commercial area where a profusion of bazaars and tiny shops were bustling with frenetic action. Since it was Saturday evening, Mohammed explained to us, and on Friday all shops and stores are closed, shopping day and night in Fes reaches its peak on Saturday. It was a total shock: a flood of people, both locals and tourists alike, touching items, feverishly speaking to each other in different languages and raising the tone of their voice to high-pitches, hands waving furiously. Most of the so-called “shops” were actually tents with benches and a large desk serving as cash register, with all items simply displayed on rudimental racks or hanging from the tents; vendors were constantly tugging at our sleeves and shouting at us in French so insistently that we finally gave in and began browsing. The array of homemade leather goods (Morocco and Fes in particular are famous for their leather products), an incredible selection of all imaginable spices and herbs, silver jewlery and blue-and-white ceramic pots, vases and tableware were featured practically on every stand, each proud owner explaining to us that their products were the best and at the best available price; after two grueling hours of bargaining with each and every vendor on our way, with Mohammed snickering every time because of my stubbornness in dealing with the locals, we ended up weighed down with two pairs of Moroccan pointed leather shoes, the black and red powders that Moroccan women use as make-up, the black one mixed with water as kajal (eye-liner) and the red one as a blush for cheeks and lips; all sorts of earrings, toerings, bracelets, ashtrays, essential oils and perfume bars for our closets, and tiny samples of spices such as saffron and curry. Mohammed then asked my boyfriend, since we appeared to be such avid shoppers, if we were interested in visiting the most famous carpet dealer in Fes, and although he was about to decline, I, the number one sucker and shopper on the old Continent, immediately agreed. I was expecting him to suggest a visit to such a store sooner or later anyway, since I was already accustomed to Moroccan guides.
We ended up at the front steps of an ancient palace boasting a sign that stated it to be home of the former Royal family during the Merinides dynasty in 1400. We walked into this beautifully decorated stately mansion and were courteously greeted by a salesman who immediately offered us a seat and mint tea. We spent forty-five minutes trying to convince the salesman that we just couldn’t afford any of his expensive albeit stunning carpets no matter how much he could take off the original price, and finally promised him we would stop by the next day with our credit cards to make a purchase.
By the end of our discussion with the salesman, we noticed our guide had left us alone. We walked out of the palace and began searching through the alleys for Mohammed, but to no avail. We definitely did not know our way out of the maze we had ended up in; out sense of orientation was totally gone hours ago, by now it was 1 P.M. and we realized we were lost in the middle of a labyrinth. I looked up at my boyfriend and saw panic in his eyes. Determined not to lose my self-control, I told him we would begin walking in one direction and sooner or later we would end up out of the old town and we could catch a taxi; but he insisted we should wait a while longer, for Mohammed hadn’t been paid for his services and according to him would certainly return to the carpet store to guide us on the way back and collect his dues. That’s when, tiresome and fear-stricken, he attacked me and said it was all my fault if we were in such a mess...We started an argument that eventually brought me to leave him there and take off on my own.
I still can’t believe I did such a foolish thing!
I took off furiously running and left him behind, pushing my way through the crowds, and after twenty minutes of walking at light speed I still felt I was walking in circles and getting nowhere. I was scared out of my wits. There I was, a blond, blue-eyed single woman walking in an Arab country in the middle of the night all by myself; I could have been raped, kidnapped, killed...anything. All I could think was, just keep on walking, FAST, don’t break down in tears, don’t stop no matter what and just look straight ahead of you. YOU’LL BE ALL RIGHT. And at two thirty A.M. I was hailing a taxi cab that actually did get me back to the hotel, safe and sound.
My boyfriend arrived less than an hour later, escorted by Mohammed who had actually returned to the place he had left us, excusing himself and saying he thought it would have taken us much longer to choose our carpet. I felt like beating him up to death, but all I could manage to do by then was cry out of relief and thank him for bringing my boyfriend back to me. We quietly retreated to our room, thanking the Lord not so much for being alive, but for providing us with a working shower, big, fluffy towels and a comfortable bed with clean-smelling thick sheets. We practically passed out for over ten hours, and by the time we awoke the next day, it was time for lunch and our ordeal just appeared like a terrible nightmare we both had while sleeping.
After enjoying a late breakfast of French traditional croissants, coffee and toast, we asked the concièrge if we could check out and leave our baggage in store for the day since we had an evening flight. As usual, he was very polite and helpful, but only after seeing us reach for our wallet...It is so customary for Northern Africans to expect foreigners to offer them money constantly, they won’t budge unless you offer them a “token”. So off we went, in the scorching August heat, with Mohammed waiting for us in front of the hotel since 10 A.M.,who suggested we first visit the famous landmarks of the city and finally catch a glimpse of the leather tannery on an empty stomach.
Our first stop was the former Qaraouiyyin mosque (Karaouine) now hosting the University, built by the Spanish arabs in the 800 years. Since it is only partially open to the non-muslims, we could only grasp an idea of how impressive this construction was, because we were only allowed to visit the mosaic-decorated patio and the outside of the towers that surround it, but it was nevertheless awe-inspiring and curiously reminiscent of another magnificent building I had visited two years before: the Alhambra in Granada, Spain; the blue-and-white mosaics that decorated the pavement, the tiny mosaics on the walls, the fountains and water pools, plants typical of Spanish Andalous art. Mohammed explained that not only is the Karaouine an important museum, it is also one of the most important religious schools in all of Mahgreb, and the oldest university in the world. Unfortunately, most of the most remarkable sites are not viewable to non-muslims, and the Grand Palais, with its golden façade, the Idriss II tomb and other splendid buildings were only viewed by us from the outside.
Mohammed then led us to Bab-el-Seba, the “gateway of the Seven”, opening on the Vieux-Mechouar, a large square where troops used to parade, now filled with locals singing, playing the flute, snake charming and selling their merchandise on spread carpets –half-way circus, half-way impromptu marketplace. Yet other beautiful mosaics, yet other impressive buildings; but I was eager to get to the famed tanneries I had heard so many rave about. Mohammed agreed, but warned us that it wouldn’t be an overall pleasant experience, and that we should be prepared for something different than what we expected.
The tannery is called a "quartier"- a neighborhood - that's how large it is! The dye pots are enclosed within walls and surrounded by leather stores and wholesalers, truly a memorable view. They are also a memorable SMELL, though...When we were about to turn the corner to the doorstep of the leather shop that boasted a terrace perched above the tannery, Mohammed handed us a bunch of handkerchiefs, on which he dropped some obscure liquid. As soon as we turned the corner, I shoved one of the handkerchiefs on my nose, for the whiffs that I began inhaling were positively atrocious. A nauseating blend that reminded me of burnt chicken skin and decomposed meat seemed to pervade me, to the point that I thought I might be ill right then and there. However, the view was incredible; until I could see, that is, because after a couple of minutes I just had, HAD to leave. Enormous pots with all shades of colors, from which the dyers took out large sheets of dyed leather to dry out; it is a very vivid and surprising image. However, as usual, as soon as we turned around to leave, one of the vendors of the leather shop called for our attention and began his usual pursuit... We were already running late for our flight, and I was definitely feeling queasy, so Mohammed led us through the door and in what seemed, compared to the night before, a minute’s walk, we were again out of the Médina and walking towards our hotel.
All in all, we ended up paying our tour guide 40 Dirham. That is about 25 dollars; nothing compared to our standards, but he was so elated he still wrote me a note last August thanking us for the time we spent with him and asking us to call him should we happen to be in Fes again. There are so many views I missed during my first and only stay in Fes (the Merinides tombs, the arms museum in Borj Nord, the Arts and Crafts Moroccan museum...) I wish I could return today. Unfortunately, prejudices largely due to the invasion of Moroccan aliens we have had on the Italian coasts in the past decade have caused many, such as my partner, to believe Morocco is not as beautiful, safe and interesting to visit as it actually is.
Just one last thing before wrapping it all up in carpet fashion: my personal recommendations, not only for Fes, but for anyone travelling to Morocco:
DO NOT feel compelled to purchase anything unless you really want it. It is a tradition for all inhabitants in Northen Africa to address the potential buyer in a strong, aggressive manner, but unless you open contracting by setting a price, you can just walk away.
DO negotiate, and don’t give up. Set a price that is far below your actual estimate of the item. And be prepared to bargain for quite a while. It’s customary, don’t be alarmed. DO accept politely and graciously anything you're offered (mint tea, usually): they will take it as an offense if you decline.
DO NOT let yourself be led by any of the so-called “guides” that might approach you casually while walking. Even Mohammed was illegally hired by us! And the police is increasingly intolerant with tourists who happen to be frauded in any way by these tour leaders in disguise. If you don’t want to go through the hassle of booking a guide ahead of time through the Tourism Bureau or organized tours, you may rely upon someone who will give you WRITTEN CREDENTIALS. Our Mohammed taxi driver was official, and gave us his I.D., phone number, and taxi permit before we agreed to undertake Mohammed guide. Hotel staff, visitors desks, and tour operators will do the same; if not, decline the offer.
DO NOT be afraid to sleep in three-star hotels if they belong to international hotel chains. You will be assured of the effectiveness and cleanliness of the accomodation, and will spend considerably less than in five-star hotels.
DO NOT take pictures of Muslims unless well hidden from their view or specifically asking for their permission. For the Muslims, the camera steals a person’s soul; and they can get violent and very, very angry. DO provide yourself with petty cash, for you will be constantly annoyed by beggars and since they’re quite insistent, it’s better to leave them a couple of pennies than to have them drag by you forever, and since a Dirham is not much less than a dollar, you won’t want to be giving away a Dirham at a time!
DO NOT, unless you MUST, travel to the Maghreb in full-blown summer. It's unbearably hot, and air conditioning is a rare luxury. Also, try to avoid the winter, because desertic areas can have temperature ranges that we are not used to. Best months are from March to June and from September to November.
DO NOT drink tap water. Ever.
And most of all,
DO NOT wander alone, especially if you’re a woman. But that only makes common sense, doesn’t it? But if I can't find volunteers, I might do just that...Once again!
Thanks for reading and enjoy our small world... and your great life!
It’s the only one we’ve got, after all!
Daniela
Recommended:
Yes
Best Suited For: Students
Best Time to Travel Here: Mar - May
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Epinions.com ID:
elsa70
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Location: Ciao, baby.
Reviews written: 33
Trusted by: 24 members
About Me:
temporarily out of order. ZZZZZZZ.
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