Morocco, The Sights and Sounds and a Camel Burger

All along the way Kim kept snapping away taking pictures of local people as they went about their business.  She had to be quick however and mostly secretive about what she was doing because a lot of people weren’t that happy about having their photographs taken.  This is something to do with being suspicious about having an image made of themselves and on most occasions when someone saw a camera pointed their way they would either turn away or wag a reproachful finger to say no.

Following directions from local people is not always completely reliable in Morocco especially when getting advice on the location of a restaurant from a rival café waiter but the man we asked seemed genuine enough and we followed his instructions and entered the fresh fruit and vegetable souk where there was the same eclectic mix of colour, the flash of flowing robes, the warnings that a donkey or a mule was coming through regardless of who might be in the way, shoppers, children, invalids all pushing, shoving, competing all along a narrow covered street with a wooden roof that blotted out the sunlight with exuberant displays of produce, spices, food, pastries, meat and local delicacies.  The Souks were busier today because Sunday is a main trading day and all of the shops were open and there was a torrent of people and activity and more noise.

The directions were perfect and soon we came across a sign that directed us into a small alley towards the entrance to the Café Clock which is a restored building where once there was a genuine water clock on the site but is now a chic restaurant with a growing reputation as the place to be and be seen.  We climbed the stairs through the assortment of rooms but it was sunny so we wanted to be outside so we continued to climb to the roof terrace and not being satisfied even with that we climbed yet more steps until we had the most elevated table in the building which was going to be certain chore for the waiters who would come to serve us.

Here at the top was a fine table and a random assortment of benches and chairs and with canvas canopies to protect from the heat of the sun and a wide view across the roof top washing lines full of clean clothes all the way to the snow capped Atlas Mountain that were gleaming in the strong sunshine which reflected all around.

The restaurant had a tempting menu including its signature, must try, dish of camel burger.  This was too much to contemplate for the girls but Micky and I decided that being here we really must have it.  And we were glad that we did because it could easily have been mistaken for beef it tasted delicious and we enjoyed it.  We also liked sitting in the hot sun at the top of the terrace and we stayed for a while and wasted some time away mindful that we still had quite a long afternoon ahead before driving to the airport for the drive home.

Eventually of course we had to leave so we negotiated the steep steps, paid our bill and went back out into the streets.  We had had enough of the souks by now so we made our way back through the butchers’ bazaar on Talaa Kabira to Bab Boujloud and left the heaving tangle of Arab and Berber market streets behind us.

We stayed in the open streets now and away from the souks as we wandered in a westerly direction, (well, I think it was a westerly direction but it was difficult to be absolutely sure) along a narrow busy street where we had to have our wits about us not to be knocked over by the horse drawn tourist carriages that seemed to use this as a principal sightseeing route.  And then there were the motorbikes and the pushbikes that made no concessions to pedestrians which meant this was not really the place to have a casual stroll.

Lining the roads there were mostly local shops and little stores selling food and household items each with a single door and a gloomy interior with boxes and tins stacked from ceiling to floor to make use of all of the available space.

Outside of the ochre walls of the Medina there was an open air market, rather like Meknes but without the entertainment and lots of merchandise for sale in a car-boot sale sort of way spread out on plastic sheets on the pavement.  We walked outside the city walls through a main gate to a busy main road and then returned through the next one only a hundred metres away and decided that we had seen all that we really wanted to see, had made all the purchases that we wanted to make and now would be a good time to walk back to the Riad.

It was four o’clock when we arrived back so we ordered tea and pastries and sat on the terrace enjoying what was most likely going to be the last warm sunshine that we were going to experience for a few months as we were returning now to the UK.  Abdul was due to collect us at five o’clock and the hour just raced by as we soaked up the sights and smells of the city for the final time before handing over what we thought were the appropriate tips to the hotel staff and Abdul led us to his taxi and back to the airport.

There was a magnificent clear sky all across the city as darkness descended and the temperature began to drop with a sort of vermillion blue sandwiching the orange sunset into the bronze skyline and we all rather wished that we had another day or two to spend here before going home.  We had enjoyed Fez, the souks, the shopping (well, some of us anyway), the day out to Volubilis, and Meknes but most of all we all agreed the Riad Layali!

Morocco, The Souks of Fez

For our final day in Fez we felt confident enough to look after ourselves and manage without the services of a guide so after breakfast we left the Riad and walked in the direction (or what we thought was the direction) of the souks where our plan was to see the sights that we hadn’t seen a couple of days before when Hussein had taken us on the unexpected shopping tour.

It was a beautiful morning again, the sky was crisp and clear and the sun was rising rapidly scattering the shadows and bringing a welcome glow to the streets which were surprisingly clean today after a lot of overnight street sweeping activity.  Being so obviously without a guide we attracted a lot of attention from the groups of young men who were looking for tourists like us to try and sell their chaperoning services to and some of them took some serious shaking off.  I have found that although it seems rude it is best to blatantly ignore them because if you mention a destination they suddenly attach themselves and try to provide the directions.  We ill-advisedly told one that we were looking for the City’s Blue Gate and he immediately stuck to like a limpet.  We eventually shook him off and he went away but it was a bit of a sticky moment.

We were fairly sure of where the Blue Gate was anyway and sure enough after a few minutes we arrived at the busy junction on the traffic side of the walls of the Medina and we walked through the elegant arch and into the busy Souk.  Immediately we were under assault from the traders inside, first the cafés and the food stalls and then the clothes shops, the men selling Fez hats and then the handicraft shops.

 

The layout of the Souks was interesting because it was set out in sections where every shop sells the same produce.  A whole Souk selling silver, another selling silks and so on which would be a bit like all of the jewelers shops in a UK shopping mall being organised side by side which I think we would find unusual but here the competing shop keepers seemed quite comfortable with the arrangement.

Soon we were the only tourists amongst the crowds of men and women in their traditional Arab clothing, the men in long gowns called djellabas and the women in colourful kaftans, headscarves tied around the hair, some with face veils and a small minority with a full burqa.  We were in unfamiliar territory now and although there was no danger and we felt perfectly safe there were no street signs to help with navigation so mindful of the risk of getting hopelessly lost we stayed on the main street running through the souk and if we ventured down a side street we were careful always to return the same way and resist the temptation to explore too deeply into the warren of confusing alleyways without being fairy confident of the way back out.

About half way through we stopped and showed some interest in an old palace, now a restaurant, and a man on the door invited us in and showed us around the interior and then took us up the stairs for a high level view of the city which was good but there was a price to pay for this and on the way down he asked for ten dirhams or about £2 each which seemed rather a lot for a skyline view of the city which was no different from that at our Riad.  Almost immediately there was another incident when a young man approached us and asked us if could take us to a tannery, or a silversmiths or a carpet shop or  just about anywhere where he could earn a commission on a sale and Micky told him firmly no to all the options he offered.  This seemed to displease him and his friendly demeanour reversed immediately and he spat out the words’ If there is nothing here that you want why don’t you go back to your own country?’ Or words to that effect – charming!

  

As we approached the main Mosque down this perpetually busy street there were more shops selling robes, kaftans, carpets and antiques, men serving snail soup from cauldrons of steaming liquid and with an enticing warren of alleys all with tiny shops and kiosks packed in behind.  We were near the tannery now and there were offers to go inside the leather shops for a high level view but after the lucky escape two days before we declined the invitations to repeat the viewing.

We had been walking for an hour and a half now and agreed that this was as far as we would go and as the return journey was all uphill we turned around and made our way back in the direction of the Blue Gate.  On the way Kim spotted a henna souk so went to investigate and to arrange a temporary tattoo on her hand.  It was in a little square off the main street crammed in by overstocked shops which had merchandise spread across the street and it occurred to me what a daily chore it must be to prepare for a day of trading, every morning transferring stock outside onto the pavements where it would stay for twelve hours or so collecting dust and grime, fading in the dappled sunlight leaking through the bamboo and wooden roofs of the streets before the displays would be dismantled again and taken back inside overnight. Some of the items on display looked as though they had been making the same trip back and forth for many weeks, perhaps even months.

Getting back to the Blue Gate didn’t take nearly as long and we had paid attention well because we didn’t get lost once as we negotiated our way back to the city gate stopping only once for Micky to buy a Fez.  It was around about lunchtime now and the waiters in the cafés were in full pestering mode, thrusting stained and dog-eared menus under our noses and imploring us to eat in their establishment but Kim was working on a sort of vague recommendation, actually an overheard conversation on the flight here, and we were looking for somewhere specific which we calculated was close by.

Morocco, Fez Carpet Sales

Abdul drove us as far as he could towards the centre but was finally obliged to stop at a gate which marked the beginning of the pedestrianised area of the Medina.  The Fez souk is claimed to be one of the largest contiguous vehicle free areas in the world but it is not completely without traffic because this pedestrianised restriction relates only to motorised transport and there were plenty of push carts, bicycles and donkeys to keep an eye out for once inside the congested narrow streets.

The Souk was busy with street traders setting up and attending their stalls and this was quite unlike anything we had ever seen or visited before and it was everything we had expected but more with a riot of colour and frenetic activity that was exciting and vibrant.  We followed Hussein through the streets and the food markets in a northerly direction and here was a whole new experience with street after street of shops all overflowing with things for sale that we didn’t need  and we had no intention of buying but each with an owner who didn’t understand this and was determined if he possibly could to part us from the cash in our wallets.

Some of the shops were no bigger than a broom cupboard and many of them sold exactly the same things and as we walked through we were under constant pressure from the owners all trying to entice us with a ‘special price’. What didn’t help in establishing whether this was a special price or not was that nothing was priced in the first place which meant this form of shopping was very difficult process for people like us who are not used to haggling.

Our guide led us into the centre of the oldest part of the city and invited us to gaze into the central Mosque through its several open doors but we couldn’t go in of course because as infidels this is forbidden.  It was approaching midday and there was a call to the most important prayers of the day and also, because this was Friday, the most important of the week.  Hussein was getting edgy because he needed to get to prayers himself but he took the time to show us around an inner courtyard of the ancient university but time was running short for him so he anxiously hurried us through and then took us to a carpet shop next door where he left us with a replacement guide, who clearly wasn’t so concerned about getting to prayers, and disappeared quickly to the Mosque.

 

The new guide gave a brief introduction to carpet making in Morocco and then handed us over to a young assistant who led us through the maze of rooms to a staircase at the back of the building and invited us to join him on the roof.  There was a good view and the young man poked a finger in the direction of the mountains to the south and told us that his village was over the top and in the next valley and that he walked to work every day and this took two hours – no wonder he looked fit.  I asked him about going home at night and he said that this took three hours because it was uphill most of the way but if it was raining he might stay in Fez and kip down on one of the carpets.

The viewing session over we were then led back downstairs and provided with a cup of mint tea and then the sales pitch began.  The first guide (who, surprise, surprise turned out to be a Berber) spoke excellent English, was intelligent and knowledgeable and a bit of an amateur philosopher who talked for awhile about the Berbers and life in Morocco in general whilst we sipped our tea and then the carpets started to come out as they were theatrically thrown down onto the floor accompanied by a bit of explanation about history, designs and methods of manufacture.

Soon there was a carpet barricade blocking our exit and I began to worry about how we might get away from here without buying a floor covering that we didn’t want and still the pile just kept getting higher and higher.  Eventually it only seemed fair to be honest with him and tell him quite firmly that we didn’t need a new carpet, Kim told him that we had bought a new one from John Lewis only a couple of months previously but being unfamiliar with UK department stores this information was meaningless to him, we had no intention of buying one today here in Fez and we didn’t really want the sales demonstration in the first place.

His young accomplice gathered and rolled up all the carpets spread out before us and I think we all just wanted to leave but we couldn’t go straight away because our guide had not returned so we sat in uneasy silence in the demonstration room having all wasted each other’s time.

Eventually Hussein came back and I for one was pleased to leave and get back out into the streets to continue the tour.