01 April 08

Features

lost in fez

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A good point to begin losing your way is the tanneries – nowhere else in the medina, the old town, is the sense of suddenly being transported back to the Middle Ages stronger. From the surrounding roof terraces, the many bathtubsized stone vats in which the animal hides are dyed resemble an enormous, multicoloured honeycomb, across which the tannery workers crawl like toiling bees.

You may want to keep your distance, because the decaying skins and the animal urine used – as it has been for centuries, to cure the leather – make for an overwhelmingly corrupt smell, against which the sprigs of mint you are offered to hold up to your nose are minimal defence. There is no such protection for the tannery men, who are paid a pittance to pound the hides with their bare feet, up to their waists in the powerful dyes, but who nonetheless form a venerable guild in which jobs are passed down from father to son.

We decided to venture down into the tannery at ground level and, after slipping the foreman 10 dirhams, succeeded in getting the pictures we wanted – almost fainting from the stench, sliding on newly cooked up rich vermilion and ultramarine ink for our troubles.

Once out on the street again, we spotted a djellabah weaver crouching in a doorway, feeding the boy next to him a skein of wool. It takes a weaver four days, one told me, to finish the finest of these monkish hooded cloaks worn by most of the male residents of Fez.

It’s impossible to stand still for long in the tiny streets – none of the old town’s supposed 10,000 alleys are much wider than a donkey cart, yet hugely burdened mules are constantly squeezing through. Don’t look too closely if the sight of bruised, beaten beasts turns your stomach – these donkeys are driven until they die. We spotted a half-gnawed leg lying like a spare part in the gutter, and later a whole dead mule that had been discarded down a verge.

Finding our way through the maze, we entered the souk – packed with food stalls, leather-goods vendors and carpet merchants. We passed an arch at one point, leading Tardis-like to an enormous mosque, where only Muslims are allowed to go. Through one opening we caught sight of a tiny old man in a dark djellabah, bent down at a courtyard fountain, performing his swift ablutions – rinsing his feet, sluicing his mouth and ears, and blowing his nose loudly, before heading inside to pray.

For respite from the crush and din of the souk, duck down a lane and you’ll find a strangely sudden silence, broken momentarily by the laughter of a few kids skipping into the labyrinth. Follow them and you’ll soon be plunged back into a throbbing artery of the city. Teashops are another respite. Mint tea is the refreshment of choice in Fez – an ultrasweet brew choked with the chopped herb and seriously addictive. We landed in a typical teashop, its sole decoration a faded Barcelona FC poster and an all-male clientele sipping, smoking and card flipping.

Once you’ve pickled yourself in the atmosphere there are some must-see sights. The Bab Bou Jeloud and Bab Semarine gates, ornately carved and tiled, are the most striking of the medina entrances, and give a sense of the multitudes that have surged through the city over the centuries. The Qarawiyin mosque, built in the 9th century, is the most important monument in Fez, and the 14th-century Medersa Bou Inania, formerly a religious school, is serene with its green courtyard, pool and scrolling Islamic calligraphy. The Dar Batha Palace is also a must see, with its collection of incredible Berber tribal carpets, built up over hundreds of years.

If you want to buy carpets, try to avoid the souks of Fez themselves, as you’ll end up paying high – especially if you have hired a guide and he’s taken you to a particular shop where his secret commission will grossly inflate the cost. Instead, head to the striking town of Meknes for your rugs, the smaller imperial city an hour from Fez that was founded by the mad and murderous Moulay Ismail I. We reached this beautiful town by a shared grand taxi (as opposed to Fez’s city-wide petits taxis), a dented Mercedes with an affable driver and fellow passenger playing hypnotic Sufidevotional music on his transistor radio.

Later, before returning to Fez with carpets satisfyingly purchased for a fair price, we took a detour via the sprawling ruins of ancient Roman outpost Volubilis, with its time-battered columns full of the melancholy of faded glory.

And, for the first time in days, breathing in the air I suddenly realised there was not a whiff of mule pee, leather or mint!

The Basics

You can get around Fez el-Bali or Fez el-Djedid on foot, and PETITS TAXIS (red Peugeots or Renaults) wait around outside. A cross-town trip costs just 10 dirhams (€1). For trips to Meknes or Volubilis take a GRAND TAXI, and be sure to bargain, as prices vary. For accommodation, Fez has plenty of riads, as well as more conventional hotels. A great place to stay is DAR ANEBAR (www.daranebar.com), which can be booked through The Best of Morocco (www.realmorocco.com), which also offers special packages and longer stays. When it comes to tour guides, be wary of the amateur ones lurking by the gates to the medina. They try to convince you that if you go in without them you’ll never find your way out. But they take you around run-of-themill souvenir shops, where they take a commission, and they get angry if you don’t buy anything. If you do want a guide, hire a government-licensed one through either your hotel or the local tourist office.