Ain’t never gonna do it without the Fez on…(Morocco)

The six hour bus ride from the desert to the city of Fez turned out to be more like 10, possibly due to several lengthy stops to cram live animals (lambs, goats and chickens) in the undercarriage luggage area.    Fez has remained a vibrant city since 600 AD; with a Medina known for clusters of crafts along labyrinth lanes (incidentally we did not see any Shriners driving the streets on tiny motorcycles, although they would have fit in just fine).

Bab Bou Jelou (Entrance gate to the Medina)

 

The tannery section is particularly popular and while it should be difficult to find, the vendor collective has envoys all over the area “assisting” with directions to their shops.  This leather co-operative shares a 600 year old skin and dye facility and even engages in integrated procurement (from sheep, camel and cow suppliers).   

 

The Medina is also an aroma assault, emanating from cafes and patisseries, meat (i.e. sheep heads) and (giant) vegetable stalls, donkey-drawn carts and shepherded live sheep. 

 

 

The architecture is most impressive in the elaborate tiling and woodwork of the various Medersas (theological colleges).

 

 

A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum (well, on the way to some Roman ruins anyway).  Morocco’s best preserved Roman site is at a place called Volubilis, an allegedly 60 minute train ride en route from Fez (through a town called Meknes).  After our obligatory morning transportation nap, we awoke to our preset 50 minute alarm.  Another half hour passed and we asked the conductor why we had not heard any call for Meknes.  He informed us that there are no station calls on Moroccan trains and that we were actually an hour past Meknes (it turns out it is only 30 minutes from Fez).  Well, next stop Rabat…

Rabat is the nation’s capital and as a result is a bit more upscale (with all those expats and diplomats you know).  While most travelers take a miss, we were pleasantly surprised by the less frenetic, more modern feel.  Imposing government and corporate office buildings encompass a tree-lined main boulevard, while a stone’s throw away, the more manageable Medina allows for an almost hassle-free stroll within its soothingly differentiated dual tones of bright blue and white.  We were even able to grab a train straight through Casablanca to the international airport for our flight to Tunis, Tunisia (we couldn’t miss our station this time, it was the last stop).

By the way, for those of you who are familiar with my disdain for early morning activity, you may be entertained to learn that in a Muslim country like Morocco, there are five prayer calls a day – and I mean calls, sometimes beginning as early as 5am.  Each Mosque has a set of loudspeakers (and your hotel is never more than a few hundred metres away), mostly cone design with the sound distortion offering the clarity somewhere between the TTC and the teacher from the Peanuts cartoons.  Actually, it is quite melodic and dramatic with ever loudening tones reminiscent (again no blasphemy intended) of the world wrestling federation familiar call line “let’s get ready to rumble”.  More interestingly, there are now even cell phone “apps” with time reminders and some with GPS to define the direction of Mecca.  Out hotel in Rabat went the less technical route with an arrow stuck to the ceiling assisting with the correct prayer path.

NOTE:  ADDITIONAL MOROCCO PHOTOS ON flickr::

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thegoobers_pics/sets/72157625360179719/