Change In Plans

This long post is about our first two days in Fes, which is the cultural and intellectual capital of Morocco. Whatever I wrote about Tarifa, Spain being “more like Morocco than like Europe” was complete nonsense. Now that we are here, during Ramadan, and staying far within the walls of the old city (the medina), we feel as though we are truly out of the normal comfort zone for the first time on this trip.

The overland journey from Tangiers (where we lingered only enough to meet our driver and load our bags) to Fes was surprisingly long and desolate. There was only dry farmland for most of the ~300 km drive. There were a few small market towns, but mostly a whole lot of nothing.

We took a short side trip to the ancient Roman regional capital of Volubilis, which has been partially restored. Volubilis is basically a half-completed archaeology dig, with very limited curatorship, and only a handful of signs in English. My brain already hurts from shifting from bad Spanish and into non-existent French. The kids liked the ruins, although it increased Zola’s preoccupation with death and dying. Tallulah wondered when the Romans were coming back, and whether they would be upset about their town being ruined.

We arrived in Fes at about 5pm. Strangely, Morocco is 2 time zones behind Spain (eg, our ferry left at 11:00 am, and arrived at 9:45am). A porter from our hotel, Riad Fes, met us at the city gate, and helped us wheel our luggage through a maze of narrow streets, through three locked gates, and into the lobby. Within two minutes of arriving in the city, I was hopelessly disoriented.

Riad Fes is truly spectacular. It is a traditional Fassi home that has been restored and merged with two of its neighbors to create a boutique hotel. The lobby (where I am sitting now) is the enclosed courtyard of the main house: with intricate tile mosaic, and more intricate plaster-relief and wood carvings covering every square inch of the cavernous room. Remarkable artisanship as far as the eye can see in every direction.

The young women at reception asked us whether we wanted to hire a guide during our stay, and India and I (maybe a little haughtily) brushed off the suggestion.

Just before sunset yesterday we went for a walk, hoping to to find an ATM. We spent about 20 minutes trying to navigate in the medina, including many dead ends, false starts, and a moderately unpleasant harrassing by a would-be guide (”This is not Afghanistan, Mr. American, this is not Iraq! I will show you Americans how to behave here”). Gratefully, we found our way back to the Riad Fes.

Upon our return, when I immediately asked for a guide for the following day, the women at reception were very gracious. I am pretty certain I heard them laughing as I left the reception area, though. My guess is that they have seen that particular movie a few times.

We spent nearly seven hours today with an excellent guide, named Ghali, who walked us to all of the major sites of old Fes, and patiently answered about 500 inane questions from me. Zola’s eyes were as wide as saucers for the entire tour: sharing the narrow passageways with donkeys, and merchants, and wheeled carts, and thousands and thousands of people. Lu attracted a lot of attention (and a few friendly pats on the blond head) as she rode in her stroller across the cobblestones.

Fes is definitely not like anything India and I had seen before, not even in Marrakech, on our earlier trip to Morocco. Very intense, and very close. The tilework and the plasterwork are truly awe-inspiring, and the richness of history in this thousand-year-old city is almost overwhelming. More on all of that later.

We are feeling a lot more comfortable, and excited about our next few days in Fes.