Passage and Tess in Fez!

Fez from the hillside

I was lucky enough the second-to-last weekend of November to be able to return to Morocco to visit one of my oldest and best friends, Passage, in Morocco, where she has been studying for the semester.  After much discussion, we decided to head to Fez, an ancient city in the north-central part of Morocco.  My first trip to Morocco with Discovery Excursions was fun, but a little too touristy and American for my taste, so I was stoked to have the opportunity to experience Morocco again with Passage as my guide.

The hostel car service (I guess hostels offer car services in Morocco..) picked me up at the Fez airport, and the driver whizzed me through the newer part of the city of Fez right to the outskirts of the ancient medina, where I was met by a tall man in a dark suit with a facial scar that looked like he had been slashed by a sword.  The tall man was there to lead me into the maze of the medina to find our little hidden hostel, Dar Rabha.  I stopped to enter the tiny door and found myself in a small room with a ceiling that stretched up many stories, the walls lined with cushion-filled couches, and a tiny computer and cash register in the corner.  As I was trying to explain that I was meeting a friend here and ask if she had arrived, I heard a shriek of "Tess!" and Passage came flying out of the door next to the computer.  We've been friends since our infant YMCA swimming class, and nothing has changed.

Our first evening (which turned out to be the only dry day) we spent wandering through the medina.  Luckily enough for me, I had the best guide possible.  Although Passage had only been to Fez once before for only a day, she was familiar with the culture of Morocco, spoke enough Arabic that she could bargain with shopkeepers, direct taxi drivers and ask for directions while I smiled and nodded helpfully and had all kinds of interesting background information from her classes in Rabat.  We bought some delicious dates, which were far plumper than any dates I have ever seen.  (so there, germaphobes, I even ate street food this time and I STILL didn't get sick in Morocco).  When it began to get dark, we paid a little kid 10 dirham (about 1 euro) to lead us to Cafe Clock (shootout to Lauren Sanchez for the recommendation!) a famous cafe hidden in the depths of the medina.  We climbed the winding stairs up to the terrace of the restaurant, where we ate couscous and hummus under the shadow of a beautiful green minaret, listening to the evening call to prayer echo all around us.

The first morning, after a filling breakfast of many different types of Moroccan bread, Passage and I took a taxi up to the Merenid Tombs.  I am usually all about walking everywhere, but our taxi was less than a euro.  LESS. might as well have been free, I would taxi everywhere.  In Morocco they care a little bit less about preserving their ancient historical sites than in Europe.  The picturesque stone archways perched on the hill overlooking Fez were crumpling, and every nook was filled with trash.  Where exactly the "tombs" were was unclear.

We also thought it would be neat to take a stroll through a nearby graveyard.  Passage spoke in Arabic with a kind Moroccan man who said it was fine if we walked through the graveyard, but then the next person who approaches us said we had to pay him to be in the graveyard, so we left. 

Passage & the tombs

The rest of our explorations included an incredibly intricate Koranic school, the odorous tanneries, copious amounts of Moroccan mint tea, getting very wet and bargaining.  I was much more successful at bargaining this time around with Passage as a translator, although I won't say more here because several Christmas presents were purchased.  Despite the medina being a complete maze, we managed to find our way around quite well, thanks to Passage's ability to ask for directions in Arabic.  The weekend was quite the mash-up of languages, because while Passage would ask people questions in Arabic, Moroccans would generally respond in French assuming we were French tourists, which would mean less than nothing to us, so Passage would speak back in English and I would try Spanish. My brain felt like a overwhelmed sponge trying to soak in all the new words.  Because sponges for sure have feelings. My favorite new word? 'Bab' in Arabic means 'door.'

ahh the delicious tagines

good thing they gave us strong smelling mint leaves to
mask the odor of drying animal hides. 

After our wet, whirlwind of a weekend traversing the wonders of Fez, Passage and I headed back on the train to cosmopolitan Rabat, where she led me on an even shorter whirlwind tour of the city that has been her home for three months.  Shoutout to Passage's friend Joy, who I didn't get to meet, for letting me sleep in her bed in their apartment.  Passage - I feel so incredibly lucky to have been able to experience Morocco with you and finally put images to the stories I have been hearing all fall.  I could not have asked for a better travel companion, translator, tour guide or friend.  Wish you could have been with us too, Coral.  

Passage, me, Coral back in the day
90's Maine style was practice for Morocco