The Fes Medina

At some point, we entered the Medinas. There was probably a gate we went through, since there are 7 gates around the perimeter of the Fes medinas--the word for gate is "bab." So here--have a bab!

Approaching the bab

On the other side!

While the medina felt utterly chaotic and overwhelming, there is some shape to it. There are always at least three elements to every division, the elements that define a sort of neighborhood: a mosque, a school, and a water source. (There may be some others that I am not remembering--it may have been that there were five elements, and I've completely lost the other two.)

Within the medina there are also commercial districts, and a lot of the same types of work can be found clustered together. Dyers can be found near each other, and can be identified by the items handing in their shops as well as the colorful run off in the streets.

The copper market is located around a central square, where a handful of men sit and make hammered copper pots and utensils--the sound is deafening! There are streets where the you walk past stall after stall of dates or olives (and no, the proprietors are not happy to have you take photos), or pastries, or meat. You can buy ground camel meat already spiced and mixed for easy preparation, or you can pick your live chicken. 

As Mohammed 1.0 said--the medina is just as it was in the 14th century. People still do the same work, using the same tools and if you cam back in a hundred years, it would still look the same. This seems to be largely true, although there are more refrigerated cases in the medina than probably existed in the 14th century.

But the median is definitely from another time and place. The streets are far too narrow for anything like modern delivery trucks or cars--so donkeys are the primary carriers. Cries of "Balak! Balak!" warn you to step aside because something large and heavy is coming up behind you. The most modern addition is currently hand carts, because not everyone has the resources to keep donkeys.

Sometimes you see bikes, or even scooters, but burros are at least as prevalent.

It was busy and crowded and loud, full of people practicing their craft and running their businesses, serving the people who were doing their marketing. And as busy and stuffed with goods as this place is, Mohammed 1.0 often counseled "don't try to buy that here--wait for Marrakesh."

One exception was leather. We were taken to a leather producer (one hesitates to call it a factory) that continues to tan and dye animal skins the old fashioned way--by using pigeon poop.

Mohammed 1.0 led us to a nearly anonymous doorway, somewhere in the depths of the medina.

 

We were handed large sprigs of mint to hold up to our noses to combat what we were promised was a powerful smell, and then we went up to the roof. 

Spread out below us was the entire tannery, the processing, the drying, and the dying of leather. It definitely looked like something from another time.

 

To the right, under the overhang was a water wheel that had something to do with the initial processing of the skins. The smell of ammonia was not too overwhelming, and may have been coming off the low rectangular vats where the hair was removed, and the skins were bleached, softened, and preserved.

I am pretty sure there was more information provided than I was able to take in. At least one person in our group had by that point stuffed the mint into their nostrils, which was distracting! The smell wasn't overpowering, and it was clearly something you could get used to if necessary.

(To be honest, the mint didn't do much for me, because at some point I had peeled and orange, and the smell of orange oil from under my nails was far more potent than the mint could possibly have been!)

Once processed, the skins are hung to dry, a process that takes half as long in the summertime, when it gets very very hot!

 

The tannery processes goat, cow, and camel skins, in increasing order of toughness. Goat is used for women's leather jackets, while means are sometime goat, or else cow. Camel is very durable and used for bags and cases.

The processing, we are told, it totally organic and the same process has been used for centuries. It involves collecting pigeon droppings from a coop on site, as well as the voluntary donations from the entire city.

The dye vats are the round ones on the left side, and all dyes are also organic, made from plants and minerals. The men who worked there walked around the edges of the vats, nimbly balanced and never seeming at risk of falling in.

Inside the store, beautiful leather goods were available for purchase. Slippers, jackets, wallets, suitcases, belts. . .in a wealth of colors.

 I knew I wanted a black leather jacket of my own, and once I found a style I liked, it was measured on me for a custom fit. I wanted it a bit loose, so I could wear a sweatshirt under it for warmth on occasion. It took only about 5 minutes for the tailor to decide what had to be altered--longer at the hips? Were the sleeves the right length? Could I zip it up over my sweatshirt? I was taken down to pay, and was promised delivery of my jacket at the riad that evening.

It arrived, it was exquisite, and made such an impression that Dee Dee decided she needed the same one. The owner measured Dee Dee wearing my jacket, took both of them back, and delivered a custom jacket by 10 pm that night. And everybody agrees--the leather is like butter!

The Fes Mellah

The Jewish Quarter of Fes is the Mellah. Located near the royal palace, it hosts a mix of styles--the Andalusian style, with balconies and windows facing the street, and the Arabic style, with featureless walls because the interior rooms all face the inner courtyard.

Which raised some questions I thought about as we walked. When you build around a courtyard, in the riad style, doesn't that require a lot more land? What are the economics of the Andalusian style versus the Riad style, and does a Riad style make more sense in more extreme climates than the Andalusian one?

Take a look--this is the Andalusian style.



You can see similarities to New Orleans style--the filigreed balcony, the outward facing buildings that mean that if there were ever an invasion, the inhabitants could attack the invaders by shooting from their windows, or dumping boiling water from the balconies.

The streets are also wide, so the windows have something to look out onto. Contrast this with the Arabic style.

Here there is some decoration and some light sources into the houses from the walkway (and also a cat!) But the passages between the buildings can get very narrow!

As you can see, sometimes the building goes right across the sidewalk. Quite a few of the travelers in my group are civil engineers, and they occasionally looked with horror at the haphazard nature of the construction. Large sections of walls bowed out, and upper story additions seemed to be precariously propped in place with beams that just were stuck into the walls.

Maybe that was just me, but it looked like once built, many of these structures could not be accessed for repairs because they were just too close to everything else. But then, these building have been standing for at least 700 years, so perhaps I am just a worrier.

Finally, here is a picture of our local guide, the man who guided us through the labyrinth of Fes, Mohammed 1.0. (Our tour leader was also named Mohamed, which is a VERY common name, so we gave them numbers to reflect their relative ages as well. Or, as one traveler said, "Mohamed 2.0 is the upgrade." We are very fond of our Mohamed 2.0!)   Here he stands in front of a 17th century synagogue, now mostly disused.

The Royal Palace of Fes (and a lot of mosaics!)

Another royal palace which is not open to the public. However, the exterior boasts seven glorious brass doors, representing the 7 days of the week. The brass is kept shining by cleaning with lemon juice only, or so we were told. 

There was no way for me to get a decent photo, because the whole facade is so enormous that there is no way to capture it on an iPhone camera. You might look at the photo on the Wikipedia site here.

These are remarkable examples of Moroccan tile work--so many patterns creating such wonderfully delicate textures. But those patterns are themselves each intricate and different, and you only get the overall harmonious patterns because of the enormous scale. 

Let's look at one of the doors.

The doors themselves are carved or embossed. The first six feet on either side is a single pattern up to the height of the white columns, with a different pattern along the sides, and two other patterns edging the top and bottom.

The horseshoe shape above the door is composed of about 4 different circular patterns, each one basically the size of a patio table. Additional patterns surmount the horseshoe, then frame the entire door, then frame the framing, with a final frame in shades of green that connect the door with the frieze-like panels above it, themselves framed by more white columns and boasting a riot of patterns.

Here you can see them more distinctly. (Boy, that iPhone camera works great, doesn't it?)

Here is a chance to look at each of the individual elements. Remember what we learned about how the craftsmen have to memorize the pattern, because they construct each panel face down? That's the same technique used here.

You have to respect the skill to take all these patterns and make them harmonious. It's not just the individual circles, but they have elements between them, as well as diamond lozenges forming the background around them, and two different borders on the inside of the pattern. AND here you can see that the underside of the arch has its own filigree carving.

And just for the sense of scale, here is me, standing in front of this door.

This was early in the trip, when I was thinking that the use of color and pattern was so refreshing, so different from the sort of dark and cold Italianate house I had been living in. Part of the appeal of going to Morocco for me was to look at the decor to see if I could move away from the monochromatic style that I was seeing everywhere. 

(This is why there are so many pictures of tile patterns.)

But it was by this point that I saw the folly. Moroccan mosaics are amazing, but they work because the scale is so monumental. There is no way to physically fit this many different patterns into a human scaled home. You need to have doorways that are 20 feet tall, that you view from dozens of yards away, before you can get the overall aesthetic effect. 

Also--there are SEVEN doors, and even those are not identical! 

Nor is this style of mosaic work the only one. Before you reach the palace, you pass an old city gate, which has tiles set into stonework--an elegant and yet massive style that conveys defensive strength, and is entirely different again.

 

Up close, you can see that that individual tiles are themselves rough hewn, not precision machined, but chiseled using hammers. When you are able to get very close, it is too close, and you see the individual imperfections and not the glorious tapestry of the whole.

The Riad and the Panoramic View of Fes

After driving through typical Mediterranean countryside (so many olive groves!) we arrived in Fes. We knew we were staying in a "Riad"--a family home that had recently housed as many as 60 members of one family. But as the older generation died out, and the younger generation went to college and moved to the cities for their careers, they were down to about 6 family members living in a very historic property. So they converted it to a guesthouse, while retaining the traditional architecture.

We exited our bus about 3 blocks away from the Riad. Several carters lounged at the corner, their hand wagons available for hire to cart the luggage to wherever we were staying. Again--so nice not to have to negotiate that situation--I would have assumed that I should just wheel my own luggage, which was probably a Gross Insult to the Way Things Are Done.

The walk was unexceptional--the streets were not unlike some of the streets of Paris, lined with shops and tabacs and banks. Cars lined both sides of the street; parking is terrible everywhere, isn't it? None of which prepared us for the beauty Riad Salam Fez.

The central courtyard, which traditionally would have been open to the sky, but which was roofed for business purposes.

Traditionally, this would have been a garden instead of a pool, but beautiful nonetheless. The fountain in the back would have been in the garden and might have been original.

A closer look at the tile work on the fountain. My room was just to the left of the fountain, overlooking the pool.

One of the dining tables in the courtyard. Notice the carved wooden door and the multiple varieties of tile work visible.

Fountains in the courtyard serve as a form of air conditioning. The brass candleholders around the edge were lit at night and served as a sort of station to prevent people from tripping into the recessed star shaped base, with was also full of water.

Carved and painted cedar ceilings with traditional motifs

Tile insets in the walls.

The key to my room. All the rooms were given women's manes, I think from the family? "Kenza" translates as "treasure."

We then drove up to a high point across the river from the Fes Medina to see it arrayed before us in all its medieval glory!

Perhaps a more traditional photo will be easier to look at.

We met our local guide, Mohammed, up at this vista point, where he attempted to explain the city to us. There are three main sections--the 9th century medina (the "old medina") and the "new medina" which is from the 14th century. Then there is the "French part" which was built beginning in the 1920s. The Old and New Medina are inside the old city walls. There is also a Jewish Quarter, called the Mellah, which is actually located near the royal palace, because the then Sultan respected his Jewish counselors. There are still a few Jews living in Morocco, but most of them have left, many to Israel or America. There is not a history (that we heard about) of Jewish prosecution in Morocco, but it is the case that once Israel because a state in 1947, many people left many different countries to live there.

The day wasn't over yet--once we got off the hill, we went to a traditional pottery shop. Moroccan ceramics are well known and are for sale all over the country. This way, we were sure to be getting the real thing, and not knock offs imported from China.

The clay soil near Fes is particularly fine, and if I recall correctly, very white. The place we went showed us a master craftsman making a variety of forms--cups, candlesticks, vases--freehand from a single lump of clay on a foot-powered potter's wheel. Without stopping the spinning wheel he made the cup, cut it free from the column of clay, then immediately started on another item.

Dee Dee volunteered to try it out. Dee Dee also appreciates handsome men!

Once off the wheel, the pottery has to dry for quite a while, so she couldn't buy the cup she made. We went deeper into the "factory" where two men sat on the floor, chiseling tile mosaic shapes from squares of tile. Think about a square ceramic tile, maybe the size of one in your bathroom? It's been glazed and fired, so it's glossy on one side, and might be any color, but rough and unfinished on the back. These are the types of tiles the craftsmen take, and they use a brush to ink around a template to create one of the many traditional shapes of mosaic tile.



They then take a small hammer and break the shapes out of the larger tile. They are covered with ceramic dust, and the job looks like it would run afoul of every OSHA ergonomic standard. . . .

Inking the shapes on the tile on the left, using the hammer to cut the shapes out. You can see several different shapes and colors on the surface in front of each of them.

The end result is generally flat on the glossy side, but tapered below that. Eventually, the tiles are given to a master craftsman, who assembles the mosaic face down on a flat surface. He has to have the pattern and colors memorized, because he can't turn it over to see his progress. Once complete, he fixes the tiles in place with powered cement and water, and then fills in with entire form with concrete. Only after curing can he check his work.

The assembly of the mosaic is the highest level of craftsmanship in the shop. Employees work their way from the bottom through all the steps over years before being "graduating" to mosaic assembly. And even the maestro sometimes makes mistakes:

Can you find the one piece that is out of place? It's a puzzle, like Where's Waldo!

The courtyard has tabletops and fountains for sale--all of them are impervious to weather--at least that's what they said. I don't know if I believe that even concrete can withstand Minnesota winter temperatures. But so much available for sale, or if you prefer, they will custom build your preferred mosaic patterns in whatever shape you wish!

Meanwhile, what about the pottery? What about those famous Moroccan plates I mentioned! Here's is one being painted!

Blue glaze, applied freehand with a horsehair brush. The color is deliberate, it is the special color known as "Fes blue" and the Arabic calligraphy in the center spells "Fes."

One of my housemates put in an order--this was what he wanted as a souvenir from Morocco. And as long as I was buying one, I needed one for myself. So I bought some beautiful things.

A Word About Money in Morocco

Just a quick word about using money in Morocco. There are plenty of ATMs in the cities, and exchange bureaus. I changed a bunch of money at the airport, where $1 (USD) netted me 8.7 MAD--Moroccan dirhams.

But the effective conversion rate is 1:10. Most merchants that I encountered were willing to conduct transactions in US dollars at the rate of 10 dirhams to one dollar. It almost made no sense to change money, since none of the exchange bureaus would give you that good of a rate.

More interestingly, they also treated euros at the same rate--10 dirhams for one euro. So toward the end of a trip when somebody was out of dirham, she pulled some euros out of her pocket and they happily accepted those.

Surely there is an arbitrage situation available here? But there are some serious transaction costs, since you have to convert dollars into merchandise first. They will sell you something that costs 100 dirhams for $10, and if all you have is a $20 bill, they will give you a 100 dirham bill for change. But unless you can sell whatever it is you bought, it's not really an opportunity for financial wizardry.

The problem we ran into is that it is hard to get small change--1 or 2 dirham coins are valuable in a way that dimes and nickels are not, because when you tip a Lantern Man, or a Water Man, you do it at about 1-5 dirhams.

More critically, the restrooms we encountered regularly have an attendant sitting outside the door, who keeps the place clean, and often is the dispenser of toilet paper as well. So you need to give her (and it was invariably a woman) a couple of coins for each visitor.

Because I had changed my dollars at an exchange bureau, I had plenty of 100 dirham bills, and almost no coins. When I bought my 15 dirham pastry at the coffee shop, I only had a 100 dirham bill, and they had to collect payment from several other patrons before they had enough change to give me. And I needed that change! (See above, re: bathroom attendants.)

It's a completely different culture, and it is in the small things like "tipping bathroom attendants" that you realize how completely different "normal" can be. Morocco has free health car, free birth control, and free college education for qualified students, but you pay to use the bathrooms. That might be a deal I would be willing to take!

Off to Fes!

We are now about about Day 3 of the trip. . . .and it's off to the city of Fes!

"Fez" is the hat. "Fes" is the city--a large city about 2/5-3 hours away. On a well planned tour, you get a break every two hours for bathrooms, coffee, and local color. So we stopped at a "market" at the side of the road where women who lived within walking distance set up stalls to sell buttermilk.



Also on offer is a form of Moroccan muesli, which is what the bowl is for.  There were about a dozen stalls in a row just behind the shoulder of the road, most of which were women selling the same thing. How do they differentiate? It just doesn't make sense for the way we understand the world. But it's personal relationship. You stop and you visit the same woman every morning on your way to work, buy the milk, eat your breakfast with her, and come back the next day.

While the purchasers seemed to be commuters pulling their cars over, the sellers used more traditional means of hauling their goods.

Dee Dee loves animals

We drove on a bit farther and stopped to walk through a market--amazing and beautiful produce, and so much of it. Northern Morocco is quite agricultural, and they can grow everything they need, plus export more--except for grains. They do import wheat and barley, which is maybe not a surprise given how prevalent bread is in the meals we ate.

(Don't even ask how the Californians reacted to all the bread. Paleo and gluten-free diets are not really A Thing in Morocco!)

But look at these gorgeous vegetables! And this is just a small market town, on the road between cities. Whole Foods should look amazing.

As a town, the taxis were a small upgrade from the burros of the buttermilk stop--they were horses!

But it was also a completely modern town, and we walked through the market and crossed the street to a coffee shop that would be entirely at home in any California city. There we were introduced to "nouss nouss"--a word which translates to "half and half." This is the Moroccan equivalent to "café au lait" perhaps? Since I don't drink coffee, I can't tell. It appeared to be a glass of coffee that was about half milk, and was probably highly sweetened as well. Our group liked it, but learned to also order an additional espresso shot for the caffeine kick they needed.

Since I don't drink coffee, I ordered mint tea--served with enough fresh mint to make a mojito. And an apparent legacy of the French Protectorate era is the existence of some amazing pastries.

 This lovely coffee break ran me about $2.40.

Then it was time to get back on the bus and drive into Fes.