I’d forgotten how wonderful the call to prayer sounds, especially first thing in the morning (about 5am) when there are no other noises (except sometimes a cockerel or a dog barking). Still I actually like the sound, it’s strangely soothing.
Without thinking about it we had arranged for the best day to have a guide around the medina, all the shops were closed up for the holy day.
That meant that we couldn’t be dragged into too many shops and stalls to be persuaded to buy stuff (and therefore a commission going to our guide). We had already decided that we were in Fes to see the place and take photos – not to shop.
Breakfast was as wonderful as dinner the night before – pastries, bread, oranges, cooked tomatoes (which Kate tells me were lovely!), fried eggs, freshly squeezed blood orange juice and English tea.
The two guys who were buying the house were at breakfast, and watched Kate pour yogurt into her mug thinking it was milk!
We had arranged to meet Idriss at 10 for him to guide us around and show us some of the different areas – 150 dir (about £9) for 3 hours. We’d looked at the map and decided that a trip some of the sights outside the medina would be a good way to start – so off to Rcif to find a Petit Taxi. These are great as they are metered, so you know that you aren’t being ripped off – the only problem is getting one before everyone else – no such thing as a queue.
The entrance gate to the Jewish cemetery was opened for us by a very drunk man using his head as a battering ram! Hundreds of white graves in the very bright sun, very difficult to photograph. I got the answer to by question about pebbles on the graves (something I’d seen on Jewish graves in the UK), relatives leave them to show that they have visited and paid their respects recently.
Also up in the area was the King’s Palace with magnificent gates, the decoration is so intricate – Mum would have loved it.
Back in the medina Idriss quickly realised that we weren’t into shopping and took us into the residential areas – the back alleyways, often looking like dead ends but always leading somewhere. I have to admit to wondering if he didn’t get lost a couple of times – we’d never have known!
Many of the food stalls were still open, great mounds of dates and nuts – almost begging to be bought. Obviously some of the shop keepers were staying open for the tourists and before I knew it I’d bought a lantern – of course I have expensive taste and it’s a antique, not a modern copy. The haggling started at 800 DH, but I got him down below half that – so got it for about £20! The main problem was going to be getting the damn thing home as it would not go in my hand luggage and my suitcase was already close to being overweight.
Kate drives and even harder bargain than me, Idriss said that we both haggle like Berbers! Not like the American tourists who, I’m told won’t haggle at all. As Kate says, it’s better for their economy if we do knock the prices down – if all the tourists paid the inflated prices the shopkeepers would come to expect the high prices and then the locals would not be able to afford anything. Still things were very cheap.
We had been told by many people that we should visit the tanneries, but that the middle of the day was not the right time as the smell was appalling and would linger in the nose and throat for hours. As we arrived we were given handfuls of mint leaves to sniff, but neither of us thought the smell that bad and don’t know what all the fuss was about! Getting up to the balcony overlooking the pits of brightly coloured pigeon poo and leather it is necessary to negotiate your way through the building full of other tourists, their guides and thousands of leather bags and shoes in every colour imaginable.
The day we visited the tanneries were concentrating on reds and browns – what an amazing sight, I took far too many photos! The far section (nearest the river) is where the skins are treated with lime, the men having to where protective clothing; and then they are left days in the coloured pits and the hide scraped. Imagine that the men that work their have totally got used to the smell and the hot working conditions (being in the sun all day jumping around on the hides).
Whilst I was busy snapping, Kate was driving a hard bargain to get a wonderful bright yellow leather bag for her Mum and a fantastic pair of shoes.
Idriss had begun by giving us a guide price to aim down the haggling to, and he later told us that it was lower than he expected us to be able to get down to – but on a number of occasions we did manage it! My yellow slippers were a starting price of 180 DH but after ten minutes I’d got two pairs (red and yellow) for 250 DH. The fact that we were in the tanneries shop means that we paid more that we would in other parts of the medina but I was still happy with the price and actually didn’t see the same shoes again.
We were also enticed into a herbalists shop, where he wanted us to smell everything! We bought some musk (very naughty as it’s really bad for the environment) and I bargained hard to get a basket (which I love).
Since it was Friday and our riad is close to a very large mosque we had some problems getting back as everyone was spilling out into the streets and praying in the alleyways!
Time of a laze around on the terrace with a cup of tea and download the photos we had taken. Kate was using my IXUS as the batteries for her camera had no charge in them – but the best thing about this was that she could take as many photos as she liked as the camera could be recharged and the card emptied.
We decided that nice though the restaurant the day before had been, we really didn’t need that much food so eating from street vendors was great. A strange patty thing made out of couscous (we think!) and warm chickpeas in breadrolls – yummy! Yes, I know that I’ve always referred to chickpeas as ‘evil’ but these were lovely. I also made the mistake of eating a very nice kebab from a vendor – but more on that tomorrow!
From my experience of Marrakech ten years ago I was expecting to be more bothered by shopkeepers and people in the streets – or perhaps we didn’t notice it so much. Many people say hello and how are you (usually in French but also in English and Spanish), and some of the young lads can be insistent about being our guide or showing us the tanneries or the exit. But a firm ‘NO thank’ usually works (only on two occasions did people get ‘funny’ with us).
We saw a number of large tourist groups, mainly Americans who had been bused in from the new town, they were really being hassled by kids with tourist tat! We mainly had kids following us wanting to have their photos taken.
One of the nice things about digital is the ability to show them their photos!
More wandering around before returning to the terrace for a simple dinner of apples and couscous. The view from up there was fantastic, across the roofs of the medina towards the entrance gate at Place er-Rsif, the towers of at least four mosques (what a noise at about 5am every morning – for at least an hour on Fridays!) and out beyond into the hills.
What is most amazing is how quiet it is up there – not a sound despite the thousands of people below in the medina.
Kate and I were discussing the furniture and décor – when I have my own house I think I’ll be having a ‘buying’ trip over to Fes for decorations, material and furniture. I can totally understand why Mum loved it all so much.
Taking photos in Morocco is fantastic, most people don’t mind and the kids positively encourage it. Such a change from the UK where it is impossible to photograph children (even in groups or crowds scenes) for fear of being arrested as a paedophile. The adults are not so welling, but most don’t mind and also want to see the photo.
I can’t believe I took over 70 photos of the tanneries – more than three films worth. I know that years ago when I went away for a week I would take seven or eight films (often 36 exposure), but now I take much more than that – obviously I delete lots but I don’t worry about the cost anymore.
Kate, the owner of the riad, is an amateur photographer and has had an exhibition in Fes of her photos of the children in the streets – but she has the advantage of speaking a little Arabic (she is Norwegian and her husband is an Iraqi).
