A day in Fez

On Tuesday, my friend LW took our visitor MA and me to Fez, and it was the first time I have had what I would call a great day in Fez.

Our trip started with a visit to Marjane, a place I generally detest visiting. But there weren't many supplies I needed, so I was able to wander leisurely and watch MA (who, you might recall, currently lives in Liberia) exclaim in wonder at the abundance of stuff that is available for relatively cheap. (Since Marjane is almost identical to a big Walmart or Target, I think some people who have always lived in the United States might be a bit mystified by our excitement at the realization that you can get soymilk, cheddar cheese, a blender, new underwear, or – in MA's case – real coffee in certain other parts of the world.)

After Marjane, we went to the Fez Medina. The air was cool (for once), and the Medina wasn't particularly crowded, and we walked around just long enough to enjoy it without getting too tired or overwhelmed.

Lunch at Cafe Clock

We enjoyed a long lunch at Café Clock, and then we headed back out to drive MA to the riad she had decided to stay at for the night. We tried to park outside the Medina and had a very Moroccan moment as the parking attendant, who had just helped us to put the car in a somewhat tight parking spot, began yelling at us for parking there. He then demanded 10 dirham, which was a big mistake (parking virtually never costs more than two dirham). That set off a bout of righteous indignation in LW. The moment became even more "Moroccan" when a pedestrian who spoke English tried to make peace between LW and the irrationally upset parking attendant (he did this even though he realized he wasn't needed because LW speaks very good Darija). We eventually moved the car, and all was right with the world again.

As LW and Abdul, one of the owners of the riad, realized that they share a common friend, I was once again reminded that the world is not so big, and that Morocco is a very small place. Abdul entertained us with stories about Fez's Jewish history. I was quite amused because the fact that he is Muslim in no way prevents him from having great pride in being Jewish.

On the drive home, not far from Ifrane, LW and I picked up a hitchhiking* Berber woman. She didn't seem to speak much Darija, but she gave us both big kisses when she got into the car. She saw an empty water bottle and asked for it, then proceeded to fill it (and cover the floor of the car) with fresh cow milk. In Ifrane, she tried to pay us, but we refused and accepted more kisses instead.

The day before this, I was having an "I hate Morocco" day. I could try to explain why, but the explanation would be even more boring than my description of what I did in Fez on Tuesday. On Monday, everything was irritating me. On Tuesday, I loved it all – the bargaining, the good-natured faux guides in the Medina, the slow restaurant service, the ritualistic parking attendant argument, the over-the-top riad hospitality, the over-the-top thankfulness of the woman who hitchhiked with us, everything. Tuesday was a good day.



*I hate to use this word because of the connotations of danger and social unacceptability that it has for many of us in the United States. Almost all roads in Morocco that I have been on have been lined with people waiting to hitch rides. It seems to be a very common mode of transportation, sometimes even in what we would consider to be emergency situations; I have been told that some people hitchhike to the hospital. So here it's good to give rides to people if you can.