He says -FEZ FEZ FEZ FEZ

1-3 sept 09

We decided to take the less major roads and see some of the country (as well as avoid the toll). It took us a good 4 hours but this included a stop for lunch, that started out as me simply pulling on to a side road and turned out to be a heart stopping mud rut avoiding, pond skimming adventure that left us both with our heart in our throats and Tam walking as I risked a swim. Alas all was fine and we enjoyed our cake and bread still dry.

Once again reaching a city in the late afternoon. We could not find our way into the Fes el-bali (old city) and ended up driving around the outside of the wall a couple of times. Each pass being chased by more and more 17yr old touts on scooters. Eventually we lost them and found our way in only to get lost in the maze of the medina. At one point I was negotiating streets that were at most only a metre and a half wide with 90° turns on a motorcycle that is at least that wide! Eventually we found a hotel but there was no parking. It was new and clean and more then our budget would allow for. I am not really sure what happened next but an older gentleman approached me and somehow cut the hotel from 300 durham to 250 durham, and arrange parking for us.

He too turned out to be a guide but an official one.

Tam had been talking about getting a guide once and a while to get in deeper with the culture and as I was dealing with the parking, she decided that like this guy. I like him as well and we decided to meet later for tea to discuss guiding. It was not cheep, another 200 durham, but we decided to go for it more so to get an introduction to Morocco, then be shown around. He ingratiated himself even more to me when he paid for the teas and coffee at our meeting. The deal was done. Ten the next morning we were to meet.

We wandered the streets following him like sheep, watching him talk with almost everybody he passed; it was like following a celebrity. He told us all sorts of information, and as expected brought us to shops where we never had any intention of buying anything. The only exception to this; is my bum has been getting sore on some of the longer rides and I had decided to get the bikers oldest seat modification. The sheep skin. Once in the tanneries found one that I liked. The prices started at 1350.00 durhams but I stoped negotiating at 350.00dh. We got it too easily. Which made me think that even at 1000dh less then opening, I actually lost that game.

The only part of the tour that we may not have been able to do; was a few minutes later our guide got us access to the tanneries working floor. It was amazing experience hopping from dye vat to lime vat. It was great and we knew that we would have to tip the pit boss. But what we did not expect was that in the middle of the pit he stopped and said “now you give us 600 durham”… What!!!! We were basically trapped. We did not know what to do I was expecting 50, or less not 600! There was no way to make a run for it, so I negotiated our way down to 200.00 durham. It was the only time so far that I have felt threatened and I was not happy in many ways it was enough to ruin the entire experience. It was really our fault, we should have (like at any other time) agreed on a price first. We did not and got stung. It left a slightly bad taste in my mouth for both the pit boss and our guide that had nothing to do with the smell of the tanneries. It has come to be known as “the mugging”, it is hard but I refuse to let it taint the trip.

To be honest the tour was not worth it, it was nothing we could not do ourselves, except for one part (maybe – the mugging). The medina was plastered with signs and posters telling us what he was telling us. What was worth it, however, was the information about Morocco and its people and the intro to Arabic language lessons.

The rest of the day was uneventful we wound our way back to the hotel, had a siesta and a mediocre dinner. Later we met up again with our guide. We talked over tea and he gave us some more Arabic lesions.

The next day we started out slow and we wandered around the rest of Fez looking for the Jewish quarter on route we took a wrong turn and was told my many people that the area was closed. Not having any idea what they meant we regularly replied that we know but are just looking around. They all seemed happy by our answer.

Eventually we came across two army guards that waived us over and we started chatting. Well chatting is an exaggeration. We would say some thing in broken French and they would look at us like we were mad. We would try again with the phrase book, with only marginally more success. In the end we did make ourselves understood and he ultimately explained that we had to go back around to find the Jewish quarter. We tried some of our newly learned (and written down) Arabic and made instant friends as the main proponent thought that this was hilarious and loved the mess we made of his mother tongue. Every word we said was greeted by bursts of laugher, huge grins and my arm being gripped or my back being slapped (Tam got the laughs and smiles but never touched). We continued to tell them our names, how we like Morocco and other first conversation thing that can be exchanged in pigeon vocabularies.

Then with out warning the main solder turned very serious and said some thing about hashish. I don’t know if he was offering or warning us but we both looked suitably horrified by even the word and he seemed happy. With more back slapping and grins we said our goodbyes in Arabic crossed with French and Spanish and went on our merry way.

We did find the Jewish quarter but found it to be rather disappointing and did not stay long. It may have had an interesting history but now it was a shopping centre. The architecture was supposed to be interesting, but to my untrained eye it looked like everything else. Finding our way in to the “new city” we spent a few hours looking for some bit and bobs that we wanted. The most amazing of all was that after 6 countries I found my strap mounts. I have no idea how I will mount these but at least I have them and for under a Tenner for 20 of them too.. Eat that touratech!

So far, I really like Morocco (mugging aside), the people all have been nice and friendly, even the touts seem more polite and less pressuring then some places we have been too. The cities seem manic but unthreatening (not to Zurich standards but not a touch on some developing countries) comfortable and even a bit of feeling at home.

The one thing however that I have seen and really do not like is the treatment of their working animals. More times then I care to remember I have seen pack animas (donkeys, mules) overloaded and so tired and thirsty that there tongues are hanging out of their mouths as they labour under the ever pushing eye (and often 2x4 wooden club) of their master. Many had huge sores from over and poorly loaded packs that are strapped to them. Living animals should be treated well, just as the tools of your trade should be well maintained. I cannot understand this even if you only look at them as a tool not a living creature. You would not run your car with out oil? No! Would the butcher let his knives get rusty and dull? No! So why kill your mule for the sake of some water or a slightly lesser load or a short break. A tradesman without his tools is unemployed, so even if they are not alive just tools this makes no sense at all. I am sorry if I am preaching here but it is something I cannot understand at any level.