Day 3
We woke up reasonably late, at least by our usual itinerary standards. Our guide was scheduled to meet us at the hotel around 9.30, and that gave us time for a relatively simple breakfast (that’s a distant cousin of the Kerala porotta on the plate) and a mini tour around the riad. The view from the terrace, as had been indicated by our elderly host, was amazing, though I oscillated between freezing to death and being blown away by the wind in the five minutes I spent up there!
Abdul, our guide for half a day, promised to show us the ‘real’ Fez. Dressed in a djellaba, he was a middle aged man, with a son who was born the same year as the one in which the current king took over the rule. He was also quite talkative, as most guides are wont to be, and had a great many adjectives for himself – great, modest (in the same breath), honest, and lucky were a few. Hisham drove us to the (old) medina, and he described how it had many quarters, and each quarter had five essentials – a mosque, a hamam, a bakery, a school for the kids, and a fountain. These days, Batman as well. (check the image for the bat mobile)
The medina (Fes el Bali) is an absolute maze, though there are helpful signboards. Abdul claimed there were shortcuts in high double digits and he knew three fourth of them, because Abdul was smart. The adjectives were nearing double figures themselves. Abdul kept repeating our names every time he said something, it must be difficult to memorise names otherwise. He was apparently a singer as well, but his boss apparently asked him to stick to one job. To his pop quiz of who his boss was, I diligently replied it was his wife. He agreed. We played along with all of Abdul’s practised jokes as we traversed the warren that was the medina, occasionally rubbing shoulders with horses and donkeys! At least there weren’t any vehicles to knock you down. The medina is a UNESCO heritage site and one of the largest urban pedestrian zones.
There were weaving units, a gigantic tannery (where we were given mint leaves to smell, though I think the smells of the medina had made me fairly insensitive to such small versions of stench), brass works, and scores of tiny shops which sold everything from knives to saddles. As we walked along, we could hear the hum of kids repeating their teachers’ words. Sonorous and soothing. On the walls along the lanes, we could see the doors of houses – usually the same small size. Abdul explained the noble, rather socialist thought behind this – it is to give a sense of equality, and not make others feel poor. Even if one wishes to show off wealth, it should be inside the house.
This door phenomenon was true of our riad as well. It was quite the TARDIS. Once you were inside, you’d really wonder how all of what you were now seeing could actually exist inside that small door!
The food market is a feast even in terms of just sight. A lot of camels and sheep seemed to have lost their heads – literally, that is. Yes, you have vegetarian sights too, and if you are disgusted with carcasses, there’s plenty of material, so it might be a good idea to warn your guide. Abdul was kind enough to buy us bread to munch on, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him that we were saving our appetite for lunch.
One of the last places we visited in the medina was a wood museum, which, over three floors, covered a lot of ground – cooking utensils, musical instruments, furniture of all sorts, some fantastic doors, and so on. There was also a clean loo,(yes, you have to tip the attendants whenever you take a leak. Sigh) and a superb view of the medina from the building’s terrace. All things considered, I think we got some value for money for the ticket cost! After we left the medina, Abdul asked Hisham to drive us to the Tombe dei Merenidi which gave us an awesome view of Fez. To use an Abdul expression – we ‘Japanised’ it. i.e. took photos. Before we headed for lunch, we saw the king’s palace (from outside) and the adjoining Jewish quarters. Just as we were about to get into the car, Abdul gave us each a Hand of Fatima keychain. He said his son made it as a hobby. It was a sweet gesture, though I was cynical enough to tell D that he probably gave that to every tourist. D didn’t smile during the drive.
Lunch was planned at the newer, more modern part of the city – Ville Nouvelle. Both Hisham and Abdul seemed to have some healthy disrespect for the area – and mentioned that it was very touristy. Relatively, they were right , because we could see scores of cafés and at least one mall with global brands. The first stop was at a restaurant whose food presentation at the counter was fabulous. Unfortunately there was no English menu, and when we tried to communicate with the staff, they couldn’t manage English. We then went to a place called Venezia, and were a little flustered because both of them seemed to be in a hurry to drop us off. In fact, they even forgot to tell us when and where we would meet to get back to the hotel! Thankfully, while my mouth was still open wondering how they could do this, Abdul ran back panting to tell us that Hisham would pick us up in a couple of hours. Venezia seemed a very popular outlet (full all the while we were there) and the staff were a little more fluent in English than the other place. I managed to get ourselves a mixed platter and sausage platter. Those beans, and that version of salsa (image below) were quite good!
After lunch, we walked around a bit, to allow more people to gawk at us! Hisham, when he picked us up, didn’t seem too happy about the extra hour. (he had wanted to pick us up in an hour, but we had asked for one more) Or maybe something else was bothering him. This was the only time he was on sulk mode during the entire trip to the hotel, which took just about 10 minutes!
A siesta later, we decided to walk to the Palais al Faraj (one of the places on our list) to make a dinner reservation. We went up to the restaurant to be doubly sure we’d get the view it was internet-famous for. Since we had some time to kill, we walked to the Blue Gate and spent some time in the market. I was becoming a little tired of random people staring at our faces and exclaiming first “Indian” and then ‘Shahrukh Khan”, as if confirming some major anthropological discovery. Judging by popularity, SRK could win an election here! Apparently there are theatres which play Bollywood movies, and the latest film CD/DVDs are available with street vendors. I spotted Rocky Handsome and Jai Gangajal! Anyway, I started correcting people and tossing back credible sounding nationalities – Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan and so on. I was also tempted to point and ask “Moroccan” in return, but D denied permission, citing limited travel insurance. We tried to spot Mr. Ayachi – a street food vendor on our list – but couldn’t. We walked back to Faraj, and got a bird to pose for us on the way.
At Faraj, there seemed to be some confusion on the reservation, but we got a good table with a fantastic view. Rosé wine, pigeon pastilla, (almost a pie with some fantastic textures and a powdered sugar finish) stuffed cockerel, a veal tajine, a courteous maître d’, and a splendid view of Fez lighting up for the night ensured we had a very lovely (albeit a little costly – 400 MDH) meal on our last night in Fez. As if to balance the spend, we finally bought water at the standard price – 6MDH. Pretty much every fancy place charges around double!
Fez, founded by Idris 1, and the former capital of Morocco, is a city that lives in a few centuries. The only comparable ‘feel’ I have experienced is in Old Delhi and Istanbul. In the old medina, there is a world of saddle makers and knife sharpeners, and their horses and madrasas. We saw people who had come from their villages to sell vegetables, and stayed overnight at dwellings above stables – built precisely for this a few centuries ago. Most of everything there – the way people greeted each other, their clothes, their trades and their houses – could have existed exactly the same way a few hundred years ago. Drive for 10 minutes, and you find its modern other half humming away with swanky malls, five star hotels, hep cafes and the latest automobiles. 5 kms from each other, and a world apart.
I must admit that at some points during our guided tour, D and I looked at each other and wondered if this is what we would have liked to do at Fez. But on hindsight, I am very glad we dropped in. The original world that some of Fez still lives in may not survive for a long time, so if you’re the sort who likes the melancholy around a way of life which knows it’s on borrowed time, Fez should be right up your alley, mazy though it may be.