Christi is feeling marginally better today so Saleem, the manager of the riad in which we are staying, organizes a tour of Fes el Bali (Fes’s old medina) for us with the one-armed guide, Abdullah. Interestingly, Saleem has not insisted on increasing our room rate from the introductory figure of 500D to the higher rate of 850D that he insists our room is worth. I’m sure it’s merely a coincidence that Christi and I are his only guests currently.
We begin our exploration of Fes el Bali in the same neighborhood as our riad by visiting a date / fig market, a traditional olive oil processing center, a traditional crepe-makers, and a snail wholesaler. And trust me, that’s a whole lot of slime. Normally, Christi would be very excited by the exotic aromas wafting around us, but today the smells merely add to the feelings of nausea she’s experiencing. It’s not always fun traveling the world, but Christi struggles on bravely and without complaint.
I can vaguely follow where Abdullah is taking us and surprisingly we don’t stop at the Chouara tanneries, which I want Christi to see. He insists we will visit these later, but for the moment Abdullah seems more intent on showing us all the available retail opportunities in Fes el Bali, especially carpets. Once ensconced in the showroom our guide disappears and the owner of the store begins his charm offensive. We’re offered mint tea and snacks, while dozens of carpets are unfurled before us. I half expect to see Cleopatra pop out of one and seduce me into buying a rug. What a great fantasy. Christi is tempted to buy something even without the disarming presence of Cleopatra. Is it possible the owner slipped a drug into our mint tea that makes you want to buy a carpet? I retain enough sense to drag Christi out of the shop before negotiations can begin. Abdullah is somewhat surprised by our sudden reappearance and rushes to catch us up. ‘No more retail opportunities,’ I insist. He looks crestfallen and reluctantly takes us to the Al-Attarine medersa, which is another stunningly decorated Islamic school with beautiful carved marble, cedar, and stucco.
From the medersa we visit the mausoleum of Moulay Idriss II, where Moslems are at prayer (there are separate areas for men and women). Moulay Idriss II was the founder of Fes in the 8th century AD. We follow that up with a quick visit to the Kiraouine mosque after which Abdullah says our tour is finished. ‘But what about the tannery,’ I cry. He holds out his hand for payment and won’t move until he’s paid 150D. Only then does he reluctantly backtrack to the leather souq. He passed through a narrow alley (that would not look out of place in an Indiana Jones movie), before leading us up an obligatory set of rickety stairs. This is when Christi and I are hit by the smell and then the sight of the tannery. We stay as long as Christi can bear the smell, which isn’t long. Then out of politeness we poke around the shop for a few minutes before escaping back out onto the busy streets of Fes el Bali. Abdullah is nowhere to be found, so we head for Bab Bou Jeloud gate where Christi eats a simple Harira soup at one of the numerous restaurants to be found there. A massive downpour of hail and rain curtails our exploration in the afternoon and we return to our riad by taxi. Christi is exhausted and retires to bed while I watch K19 – The Widowmaker on satellite TV. Tonight my dreams are invaded by giants snails on flying carpets that leave slime trails across the sky. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced there was something dodgy in that mint tea!
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of love and test tubes.
Speak Your Mind