Moroccan Cities - Fez & Meknes

Dear all,

I emerged from the medina of Fez emotionally battered and bewildered by all that i had seen. Fez is an explosion of life; squashed into the walls of 1,000 year old buildings. Amazing they are still stand but many are now propped by wooden poles wedged between the narrow alley ways. History of the past today. It's easy to imagine aladin here, slipping through the crowded streets searching for food and gazing longingly at the palace hoping for a princess to save him.

One maze of streets is brimming with wagons full of fruit & veg, the next is spices, the next butchers and cows heads. Suddenly you slip through an unseen veil and its leather slippers, lamps, embroidered shirts and colourful bags. Everywhere it is possible to see artists at work in the souks (central supplier) for a particular craft. In some cases you can see a little further down the line. Fez is famous for its tanneries. You enter one section to be overpowered by the smell of dead animal. Here the wool is stripped from the skin and the skin cleaned. In another section; the skins are dyed fantastic colours in massive tubs over 3 levels. Quite a sight.

The morning started well enough despite a terrible campsite, expensive; badly maintained and eriely deserted. Luckily the British family were also there to hang out with. When I stepped on the bus; the driver offered me some of his morning coffee. A lovely man; later when I leave Fez, he ambandons his full bus in rush hour for a few minutes to make sure I take the right street to the train station.

Aside - having now had ample time with moroccan men, the married ones are kind, intelligent; funny and respectful; the single ones see females as slightly pathetic creatures that need to be looked after with lessor intelligence. It doesnt matter if they are shouting down the street, whispering in your ear as you pass or finding a better space for you to watch a street performer in, they all are after something else despite the "i want to practice my language skills". They dont listen to you so you cant even have a decent conversation. If I hear one more "are you angry with me?" just because i dont want to do what they want me to do. My heart goes out to all Moroccan women and the idiots they have to marry. Never have I been so pro mixed schools. It is quite absurd that men cant even really begin to see women as equals until they marry.

I had barely left the bus when I was accosted by a faux guide who I agreed to show me around. He basically knew nothing about the city and was trying to rip me off when we entered tourism sites by saying the entrance fee was higher. A gig totally given away when the clerk dropped the 10dh coin he'd been passed in the handshake and it rolled away on the ground. My guide told me 60dh. I saved this insight for later when he tried it again at the tanneries. Relatively good naturedly but with exagerated wounded pride he stopped trying to rip me off (everyone has their ways - usually i just find it amusing) but didn't want to guide me anymore either. At least he had taken me to the tanneries which was top of my list and potentially impossible to find!

A couple of hours followed where I managed to wander by alone visiting a medersa - elaborately decorated study halls and watching the steets at my leisure. Each stall is lavishly presented but you have to keep one eye on the path because for sure the donkeys & carts are not keeping one eye on you. I got lost trying to find the palace and a kid "helped" me out by leading me to one of the main streets; after which i didnt have the heart to try again. Instead i took a photo of an arab in flowing robes passing on horseback as he bought tea from a street seller.

My 3rd guide of the day was a 20 year old boy/man who knew a lot about Fez and who i couldnt shake off despite promises of no money. We spent a couple of hours together talking about everything and touring the town (this was before i understood that the men dont listen); going to silver metal workers; strange food stalls, traditional tea house, terraced views over the city. I was enjoying his company until he tried to kiss me in an empty room and I had to physically push him off me (used the neck stranglehold) to race down the stairs. Smaller than me I was more scared of one of us falling down the stairs and causing serious damage then of my personal safety but it was unerving. He said he was sorry but couldnt understand why I was so upset. Unfortunately you cant just run away in a maze and thankfully he led me back to the square my bus left from. We said goodbye and I told him not to try it again, but I dont think he was listening. Its left me very wary. Sadly I dont think my wariness is misplaced.

Returning to the campsite, I found the British Family with several stories of their own so I didnt feel quite so picked on. I left the next day for Meknes and hoped for a chilled out town.

I think I loved Meknes from the moment I arrived - slower pace; less people, wider squares. Exhausted from Fez I spent most of the first day (apart from visiting a masoleom) sitting in a cafe in the main square people watching. As the evening fell; a festive atmosphere took to the air as men sold potions for ailments, storytellers acted out fables (did you hear about the one about the muslim; the jew and the christian - basically the christian doesnt get into heaven because he wont lie - sort of ends justifys the means story) and men tried to win bottles of soda with a fishing rod and a hoop. There was a stage with music for a week long festival but I was too tired to stay up for it.

Fron Aladin to Love Actually. The route to camp followed between two high, burnt orange walls with palm trees and red Moroccan flags. Lit by laterns, daring couples held hands watched by a chaperone whilst older couples whisper to each other and animatedly wave their hands. Just past my campsite, I had not noticed before, was a man-made lake and this was where the people thronged to. To sit in the balmy evening air and talk and laugh with friends and family.

Dark now, my white skin not so evident, I relax on a step listening to a group of men playing traditional string music and occasionally breaking out into song or rythmic clapping. No tourists (the bus loads never see things like this), no pretence; just a lovely summers evening. Places like this move me. Like a private party that you are gatecrashing. It is a privelige to be able to see into a peoples heart, these unexpected moments I stumble into. I went to bed feeling totally at peace.
The next day followed a similar vein. In the evening, I was placed at a table with 2 other white girls (no space in the cafe) which was fortuitous as we were all planning to visit the Roman Ruins the next day, about 50km out of town. It was great to spend the day with these 2 english girls and have girly giggles about aspects of Morocco and other things, as well as climb all over the ruins. A very pleasant change from spending so much time by myself. We went out for dinner that night too. A very relaxed big sofa dinner at a restaurant in a family's home. I had come down with a runny tummy and they offered me their spare bed because it sucks to be sick by yourself. It was very sweet of them but I wanted to get back to my tent.

The next day was quiet because of my tummy and because I spent a couple of hours getting lost on the local bus system trying to get to the bus station to buy my bus ticket. Once again the people away from tourists places are really cool and a lot like people anywhere really; despite the funny dressing gowns they wear.

I did eventually buy my bus ticket; overnight to Merzouga and the Saharan desert!! Now that was truely awesome!

Hope all is well and good with you all,
Lots of love
kx