Exploring the old and new of Fez

As my train from Tangier rolled into the station at Fez, I expected to be greeted by hoards of touts with offers of taxis and hotels. It turned out the forecourt area was deserted. After finally finding a taxi, I attempted to explain where I wanted to head to, though unfortunately the driver made out that he only spoke Arabic or French.

Thankfully another driver came to help and after much hand waving and pointing, we were under way heading along the crowded early evening streets of the Ville Nouvelle.

Hotel Renaissance turned out to be just as my guide book had described, basic. But at the equalivient of five Euros per night I couldn’t complain. “In Arab world we drink tea, please join us”, said one of the men standing at the around the reception desk intently watching a local football game on a small TV. Morocco’s most popular sport, I was informed.

The following morning I ventured out around the corner onto Boulevard Mohammed V and sat down at a corner café. In my limited French I managed order myself a crepe and café au lait. A dutchman Randy was sitting next to me and had lived in Fez himself for the past couple of years. He gave me some tips on what there was to see, how much to pay and more importantly how to attract the attention of the waiter when it was time to pay.

We walked toward the tourist information office, which turned out to be shut. A man approached wearing a traditional white Dishdash and explained that he was an official government tourist guide. Ali swiftly produced his ID card and his price of 150 Dirham seemed a fair price for a guide around Fes el-Bali the Medina or old city.

Ali and I jumped into one of the many old Peugeot “Petit Taxis” driving around. We headed up to Borj Sud, an old hill top fortress which gave as a sweeping view over the walled Medina below us. I listened carefully as Ali quickly explained many historical facts, pausing every so often to check that I understood and reassuring me how important I was being his customer. We entered through the Bab el-Ftouh gate and seemed to be immediately plunged back in time 300 years.

This first area of the Medina was mostly livestock, small ramshackle stalls with men sitting outside them, who were more willing to strike a bargain over a fresh chicken or a rabbit. Making our way along narrow alleyways, we dodged past rickety carts pulled by donkeys and crowds of locals going about their daily business. If it hadn’t been for Ali leading the way I would have been hopelessly lost by this point. I had also heard that once you were seen to be with a guide, other touts would not bother you.

We walked past myriads of coppersmiths, spice, jewellery, furniture makers and textile merchants. Just to remind me that it was still 2005, every so often we’d pass by mobile phone and TV traders, who seemed to attract large crowds and frantic discussions over prices.

After stopping to show me one of the traditional leather tanneries, Ali announced that it was time for his mid-day prayers and left me with his friend who just happened to run a carpet shop. No sooner than I had my glass of hot apple tea in my hand then the hard sell started, producing a book of past customer comments that even included an entry from an Mt Maunganui couple. Since my host seemed to be getting infuriated in his lack of efforts to sell me a carpet, as politely as I could I left the room to find Ali waiting outside. He led me to see a Koran school, as students went about their studies, he pointed out some of the ornate woodwork and tile mosaics hundreds of years old, showing the green of Islam and the blue of Fez,.

Finally we went past the famous Kairaouine Mosque. Though one of the largest in Morocco it was off limits to non-Muslims.

Ali then announced that he had to leave to attend to other matters. He dropped me off at the Bab Bou Jeloud gate and after giving me a few basic directions, sped off in a taxi. I had found the old Medina so overwhelming that the four hours I had spent wandering around was more than enough.

I paused to relax in the Café de la Noria in the shady Bou Jeloud Gardens, before making my way toward the old Jewish Synagogue and cemetery, which a number of locals kids were only too willing to lead me to for a small fee. Carrying on toward the new city, I past by the Royal Palace, a McDonalds and finally back onto the wide tree lined Avenues and Boulevards built by the French earlier last century.

That night crowds of well dressed men and women strolled up and down the pavements and having coffee in crowded cafes. After snacking on a type of doughy chicken filled pie, dusted with cinnamon and sugar called a Pastilla, I headed back to my room for the evening.

An early morning train to Marrakech and back onto the main tourist route lay ahead of me. Throughout the remainder of the trip, I would always look back at the unforgettable experiences of the old medina of Fez.