TRAVEL: Four days in Fez

The Crusaders: (Back, left to right) Penelope, Gloria, Ann-nee, Marilyn, Handsome, Andrew (Front, squat to right) Kelley &  Rebecca

Day One - Journey Unknown...
I decided early on for this trip that I wouldn't do any research into Fez, not coz I'm lazy and ignorant (I could learn it up in a day) but for want of fresh experience. I'm one for the freshness in things. Fresh bread, fresh fruit, fresh socks, all big ticks with me, and so too unfiltered encounterings. The travelers for this trip were most of the regulars. Myself, Ann-nee, Andrew, Kelley, Penelope, Rebecca, Gloria plus a newbie in Marilyn who is Rebecca's friend from New York. They met when Rebecca was an actress in a lusty birth control TVC or something, and upon meeting her for the first time, I could tell she thought I looked like a Japanese James Dean. It was an extremely nice thing for her to think.

We loaded up our little taxi-minivan and headed to Stansted, the furthest London airport, in London.  When your flight is 3 hours (pretty much the longest flight time possible in Europe, even though we was going to Africa), a 1 1/2 hour taxi ride in lead-up, is less than ideal. It was a tiring affair, all before we had even boarded the plane. Nothing really much happened at the airport itself... until crossing the tarmac where an act unfolded that can only be described as a complete social injustice, wrapped in bitter betrayal.

To give this a bit of background, I am a man of honour. I'm always there to step up for a scrap to back up a mate, and will take bullets in the legs for most lady friends. This fact was demonstrated when I, at the rear of our group walking towards the plane, stopped to wait for Rebecca as she assisted a woman with some luggage. People overtook us as we paused, and we got distanced from the main pack of friends. Inconvenient, sure, but I leave no man (or woman) behind. No less than a second after admiring my own nobility in this regard, I see Rebecca gunning it at full speed towards the others, leaving me standing there alone, speechless. I felt like an abandoned child sinking with the Titanic. Unbelievable. Chivalry, contemptuously refuted and rejected. Kelley thought it was a great laugh, chuckling from his vantage point on the steps leading up to the plane, like a village idiot. I was too afflicted in shock, not for self-pity, but for the wider loss to humanity as a whole. There was a later claim that she had not realised I was there waiting. For me, there is no one too small not to be noticed. Not even Ann-nee... though you could be forgiven for not noticing her coz she is miniature. We often put her in boxes and forget she is there.

Stepping off the plane my first feeling was that it was a little cold. It was evening, fair dinks, but I don't recall seeing many photos of Moroccans wrapped in woolly pullovers. An agonisingly slow wait through passport control eventually led us out, where we met our patiently waiting, local driver. He was a bit casually dressed. Wasn't expecting a chap in a tux, but he didn't even have like a drivers hat or a sign to identify him. In fact, all we had to go on was Kelley saying he was the right guy, based on a conversation nobody else heard. What made me more twitchy was as soon as he saw me, he claimed he had seen me before in Fez, rather emphatically, even though I had obviously never been. Immediately I thought of all those movies where strangers come up to you, pretending to be your best friend, then helping themselves to your body parts. The dark parking lot, and 80's model van he took us too, did not help to ease my anxieties. It was pretty racist profiling on my part in all honesty, but a Kelley assurance isn't exactly a stamp in gold. Until recently, he thought dolphins were part of the whale family.

The van ride towards Fez provided some early action. Stockpiles of burning rubble, lined the roads either side as we drove by. The driver explained it was the penultimate night before the elections, so all political placards had to come down, by way of fire apparently. Bloody good system.

This the right way?...

Turned from twitchy to anxious as soon as we reached the gateway into the Medina. This gateway was a crowded, shabby carpark, where we met another local (Ussan) for a swap-off, who took us towards a dark opening, leading into the maze of the Medina. 9,500 alleyways make up the Medina. Truth to a tee. And walking through, you believe it. Countless zigzags, give you absolutely no sense of position, so the person in front of you becomes a precious beacon. It was dark, dusty, bit filthy, with stray cats scrambling everywhere. Pretty real. What was quite surprising however, was how friendly the locals seemed to be. Being a pack of travelling yellows (Andrew the big white exception), every second person we passed, smiled and acknowledged us with a "konichi wa" greeting. Was rather hilarious. We eventually stopped at an indistinguishable large door and Ussan invited us in. "Come come, yes, very nice." Half anticipating a bloody end, I, safe to say none of us, expected what awaited us inside.

Behold

And from the floor

This place was the shiz aow. The central courtyard looked 4 stories up to a sky window opening. The furnishings were lavish and the finishings superb. There was a fireplace, with an actual fire roaring, and bowls of fruit on the ready. It was kings quality. We quickly congratulated Penelope for being employed by affluence, and settled down, absorbing our own luck.

We had some Moroccan Whiskey (sweetened peppermint tea) with a delicious dinner served by the housekeepers. We had these tasty vego starters, followed by roast chicken. The gorging finished us off, and we retired to our quarters for much needed rest.

Mmm...

Day Two - The Marching Meerkats 
The accommodation package came with a cooked breakfast each morning, served on the roof terrace, the view from which was captivating. It was our first proper glimpse of the Medina from a vantage point and we realised just how vast and encompassing it really was. Rebecca cracked out one of her new toys in the GoPro Action Camera which is a HD camera in an indestructible housing, complete with body harness. It was really cool. Meant one could indiscreetly shoot, hands-free, and really capture the street atmosphere, which was something new to the trip experience. Kelley got pleasure from wearing the harness as it allowed him to role-play a brassiere wearing fantasy (such was its method of fastening).

Rebecca with her strap-on

Because it was elections, no one in Fez was working so the day was all to ourselves. We told the house manager Ussan, that we planned to take a stroll. The idea seemed to worry him, so he spent the next 30 mins drawing us a map of where to go as we all stared blankly. Unsatisfied, he grabbed Andrew and took him alone for a quick walk of the streets we needed to follow. The girls wanted me to go with them, but Ussan insisted he wasn't allowed to take anymore than one big whitie, because he didn't have a permit to take tours. Apparently, if you're not sanctioned to do so, the police will arrest you and you'll have bribe your way out. Andrew returned after 10 minutes and we were off.

A view from the terrace

If you've forgotten what its like to wander around a strange neighbourhood with no phone GPS, then this experience would be a good reminder. Have to say, it's a little stressful. We were basically walking blind, in hope that Andrew's sense of direction that had been dictated to him, was good. We did have a map of some sort, but the Medina isn't exactly full of street signs. I don't even remember seeing one. One could barely call them streets, as we toiled through passageways and paths, head down, one step at a time. We also seemed to be more popular on our own as the locals, mostly kids actually, would follow and attempt to chit chat for what would be an eventual sell of some kind. We found there were two ways of dealing with this. You could bemuse them in the banter like I did, which meant they would follow you as long as they could, or you could completely ignore them like Andrew did and be accused of "coming into their country and treating them like dogs". That only happened once to be fair, but it is their living so they are quite persistent.

Just another day in the Medina

Our path took us past a variety of vendors for the first time. Mostly, they were booths where people were selling sweets, hacking meats, handling live chickens or selling mandarins. There were lots of mandarins. We stuck together as a group quite tight, only stopping occasionally to have a peer around, very much like a pack of meerkats, where they move, stop, and one pops their head out to have a look. Felt like a common sight for the locals, who you could tell got amusement from it. The welcomes were again consistent and when they weren't saying "konichi wa", they were asking us where we were from. It was always funny to see their surprise when we called out "New Zealand", to which they would almost always reply "Kiwis!" or "Kia ora" and even "Haere Mai". They had obviously been taught well by previous explorers.

Not from around here?...

We stopped for lunch at a completely westernised tourist cafe called Cafe Clock fresh out of the Lonely Planet. Solo street walking was enough adventure for one day. Took a bit of grief from Andrew and Kelley for ordering the Chickpea Burger instead of the Camel Burger. I'm all for trying new things, but I recalled someone being violently ill off Camel, and was keen to avoid it. Ended up having a bit on the side to silence the infidels. Just tasted like gamey beef mince to me. Nothing more than okay.

Cafe Clock comfort 

Had another semi-look around the area where the girls picked up some produce for dinner. The veggies there were crazy cheap. 30p equivalent for enough for 8 people or something I'm sure it was. Still quite tired, and not wanting to push our luck, we traced our own footsteps back to the house where the girls went to the kitchen to prepare us dinner.

While we waited, Kelley, Andrew and I decided to challenge each other in a battle of wits with a game of the classic and world famous, Scrabble. The contest was an interesting prospect. The Arts graduate (me), vs a Computer Scientist (Kelley) and a Treasury Accountant (Andrew). Scrabble is perhaps the truest indicator of intellect existing in the world today. The wise rise, and the weak whimper. This fact was none more proven, when Kelley, on his second turn after 7 minutes of careful consideration (with the board pretty much completely free), went and placed his word for the turn.... .... ... 'IF' for 5 points... ... 1 tile... and it wasn't even the 'F' he put out. It was the 1 point 'I'.... This demanded a 5 minute recess for laughter containment. He insisted he had no other choices. Even my ranga sister (see Rome) could've come up with something better, and she don't even know how to use a words. We eventually calmed down and the battle resumed. The end result? Well, one can say it was a great day for the working man, the common man, the every day struggler just doing his damn honest bit, for after it all, even allowing Kelley to cheatingly use the word "Vireo" and accepting "Yews" on a triple word score for Andrew, I came out on top... with a comfortable 12 point margin. Andrew declared it the worst day of his life, whilst Kelley sat still confused by some of the words Penelope had constructed for him in a futile effort to catch up.

Dishing it up

Meanwhile the girls laid out an amazingly good spread... though they did use every dish in the Medina I think which took myself and the double-illiterates about 90mins to clean up. It didn't bother me so. The taste of victory was still sweet on the tongue.

Day Three - Full-on Fez
Day Three was exciting, because this day was the one we'd have our own official tour guide. Without a clued-up local, it would be extremely hard to know where to go, and what to do in Fez. The Medina is just not setup to accommodate anyone who hasn't spent 20 years of there life in the alleys. The relief of not having to stress about direction and position was liberating, and as we started off, the presence of the guide, also kept the street hustlers at bay. Bonus.

It was quite leisurely at first. The guide took us around different sections of the Medina, both new and old, explaining the history, architecture and layout. We visited a communal bakery and had some fresh bread. Walked and waved at some carpenters, and passed some fish mongers. Marilyn who was a little obsessed with cats, stopped every minute to photograph the strays, which was actually better than Kelley's obsession with Donkey's asses. We still don't know why he took so many shots of those.

Andrew enjoying some bread

First major attraction for the day was the Tanneries. This is where they prepare the hides, that'll eventually become leather bags and jackets etc. The smell is a nice discovery on the approach. Slightly unpleasant would be a generous euphemism. We were quite lucky actually because it wasn't too hot so the odour was lessened. In the summer it knocks people out. When you enter the place they hand you mint leaves to keep close to the nostrils which was nice. Kelley started to eat his but I think Penelope stopped him before he swallowed. They led us to a lookout point, where we got a good view of the action, which like much in Fez, was hidden from the street. Was an incredible layout. They had chaps beating the hides, others washing, some soaking in dyes before they were all hung out to dry. It was an orderly operation. Again, the smell wasn't great, but the view made up for it. The inevitable sell came next, very much at tourist prices, so no one was tempted. Slightly aggrieved, they let us leave before we were off to the next stop... but not before drama on the way.

The Tanneries

Now, I don't consider myself a hero. What is a hero anyway? A man who saves lives? Coz I've done that before (see Paris), but I consider that a duty of self. A duty I would repeat without hesitation, and so I did at this next point in the trip. Having exited the Tanneries, the sun had increased in blaze. The stench had heightened to a point where it was almost disorientating. I was positioned once again, at the back of the group (the fighter's spot). Just in front of me was Rebecca, safe as houses. Off yonder, I noticed a couple of lads playing football on the streets. I'm not sure what triggered my senses to look towards them. The zen seemed wrong I think. Others were oblivious, but I knew at that exact moment, something was about to happen. And almost immediately it did. A clumsy punt was launched in the air straight towards the group. Quickly calculating its trajectory, I could see it was destined for the unprotected face of Rebecca. Now, given the betrayal experienced on the tarmac earlier on, I was well within my rights to ensure my own safety and leave her there stranded, but you know what? The thought never even crossed my mind. Like Rio bloody Ferdinand, I thrust myself forward and stuck out a big right leg deflecting the ball away, inches before it was due to strike Rebecca across the face like a slap with a wet one. I'm not saying it was a lifesaving action, but it was definitely a quality-of-life saving action, as there would've been scarring facial disfigurement, and Rebecca fancies herself looks wise, always going on about how she more beautiful than everyone else etc etc. She was semi-gracious for my intervention. Was impressed by the kick (even though she doesn't know football). I know if someone had saved me from a life looking like wretchedness, I would've pledged myself as an entire resource to that person for eternity, but I guess gratitude is subjective like that. Not why I did it anyway. Did it coz I am me, and I was there.

Yep that's a good one for the jacket pile

Carrying on, our next stop was a silk shop. They had a guy making something with an old school machine, but the main purpose was to sell us some stuff. They fitted us all with traditional head attire which was quite cool. Gloria looked the best in hers I reckon, mostly coz she has these razor eyes sharp enough to slice Zebra meat. It was good fun. Lunch was next and Ann-nee and Andrew had convinced our guide that we all loved street food. Wasn't speaking for me I can tell you that much, bloody crazy idea, but he took us somewhere he thought was suitable. The place we ended up in reminded me of one of those inconspicuous places that foreign spies meet at. A bit dingy, a few sporadic locals, and us as the out of place foreigners. We had some meat Kofkas ordered along with some chips. The chips were quite nice, but I found myself picking around the Kofkas. Andrew didn't blink and scoffed down about 3 helpings worth, but the raw bits that I identified, made me weary.  

Gloria, not to be messed with

Other notable stops were a tile factory where they make mosaics and pots and things. We saw a dude mold a clay pot in no less than 20 seconds. Was ridiculously impressive. A visit to the outside of the Royal Palace which was just about the size of the Medina itself, and a trip to a good vantage point overlooking the city.

A master at work

We got back to the house where the housekeepers cooked us a lamb dish. Marilyn had never had lamb before, which seemed extraordinary, so we were very excited for her to be able to try it. She pretty much spat it back out. Didn't like it one bit. Our national meat. Insulting. Anyway, she was happy enough to eat the vegos with Rebecca (vego) as we relaxed the night in against a fire that the old woman started, coz someone had sabotaged my efforts to get it going.

Abuse captured outside the Royal Palace

Day Four - The Experiment
Nothing was really planned for our final day. The girls were talking up getting a full body Hammam (like a naked massage) but ultimately chickened out. We went for another group stroll for a little bit of a shop. Isn't easy to buy goods in Fez. You bring with you expectations that everything should cost no more than a nickel and a dime, but they're wise to the economics of a tourist. Poor Penelope, wanted very much to by a lampshade, but they were quoting prices in excess of £90, where really in the context of Fez £30-£40 would be fair. We didn't see much so came back where lunch was being prepared for us. Nice sardine dish.

The Lamp man

Because we had not much to do, Rebecca wanted to try out a conceptual tracking shot with her new GoPro Cam. The idea was to devise a system where we could get a shot that would pull up from ground level to the 4th floor ceiling. Rebecca wanted to hold it from a bit of thread and gradually lower it from an opening I found in the roof. We started to, but it proved too risky in attempt and we aborted. I wanted to keep it simple and use the third floor as the leverage point where two people could lower it in sync from opposite sides. Had I not been paired monkey-brain (Kelley), this would've no doubt been successful. The system of lowering at a constant rate was too complex for him. He kept going on about wanting to rig a pulley that would go to the lower floor with 2 people walking in opposite directions (even though this would take them through the walls). Working with such madness inevitably led to a complete failure, Orson Welles no doubt screaming from his Directors chair in the sky.

Attempt at cinematic history fail...

With that, the show was over. We were escorted out of Fez all the way to the airport and on our way. My my first taste of Africa was sweet and nourishing, and I didn't even get sick. Happy days.