morocco

9 Tips for Navigating the Fes Medina — and Making It Out Alive

OK, that’s a bit dramatic. But Fez, Morocco is an intense city to explore. Read these tips before you go.

A donkey overpacked with boxes is about as much of a traffic jam you’ll encounter in the Fès medina.

Fès is a city of discoveries. You never know what lies around the next corner. You cannot imagine the beauty that hides behind a plain wall once that wooden door opens.

As such, though, it can be intimidating as well. I’m not gonna lie: That first day we had booked to explore the medina on our own, we were hesitant to leave the riad. We really had to work up our courage. Because once you step foot outside the door, you have to be prepared to not only get lost, but also to deal with local men making snide comments, hoping to get you to pay them to act as guides.

“For the most part, it worked, and we were able to follow the trail back, like Hansel and Gretel.”

Landmarks like mosque towers don’t really help you find your way around the medina — there are lots of them, and once you turn a corner, they’re gone.

1. Get a guide on your first day.

It’s nice to put yourself in someone else’s hands on your first day in Fès. Our guide, Abdul, was fantastic, and we just followed him around as he led us to the major sites. It’s nice to get them out of the way, know you’ve ticked the “important” stuff off your list, and that you have nothing left but to shop and eat (and hit a hammam for a spa day).

Abdul took us to the narrowest street in the medina:

2. Pay close attention to how to get to the Blue Gate.

It all comes back to the Blue Gate, it seems. We took a daytrip to the Roman ruins and mosaics of Volubilis, and had a guide from the riad lead us to the Blue Gate just outside of the medina to meet our driver (there aren’t any cars allowed in the medina — and anyway they wouldn’t fit on the narrow twists and turns).

I literally just kept track of the major turns we made: left, left, right, right, right. And that was all we needed to retrace our steps the following day. Sure, we took a turn too soon a couple of times, but just backtracked once we hit a dead end. We got back to the Blue Gate eventually. And from there you can hit one of the major thoroughfares of the medina.

You never know what lies around the next corner in Fès. It might be a bunch of roosters tied to a cage in front of a gorgeous doorway.

3. Ignore the hustlers.

As mentioned, you’ll pass young men every so often who want to con you into paying them to act as guides. “There’s nothing that way,” they’ll tell you. “The Blue Gate isn’t down there,” they’ll say. Don’t pay them any mind. Unless, of course, you truly are hopelessly lost. And then agree to a reasonable fee before you have them lead you back to your hotel or guesthouse.

We didn’t end up having to do this in Fès but did so twice in Marrakech (though we hired young boys to guide us there).

 

4. Chat with your fellow travelers over breakfast.

Because we talked with a lovely British couple, Susan and Colin, our first morning at our amazing riad, Dar Bensouda, we learned about the gardens (which happened to be closed for the Sacred Music Festival, but still) and the tapas bar across the street, Mezzanine (a welcome change from couscous and tagines).

They also told us about the Ruined Garden, which was close to our riad, and ended up being our favorite restaurant in Fès.

 

5. Follow the signs.

One of the best ideas Fassi business owners ever had was to put up small rectangular signs throughout the medina. Coming back from the souks or the Blue Gate, we started noticing signs for nearby dars and riads (guesthouses). After a day or so, we knew which ones would lead us close enough to our own lodgings that we could find our way.

We also knew that there were signs that led from Riad Dar Bensouda to the Ruined Garden. So once we passed that, we followed the signs back to our temporary home. This gets a bit tricky — you have to turn a corner and then glance back to make sure there’s a sign pointing back to the restaurant. But for the most part, it worked, and we were able to follow the trail back, like Hansel and Gretel.

6. Walk with confidence.

This was advice given to us by Susan and Colin. It really did help put some of the would-be guides in their place. They’d look at us, walking with a purpose, and then go back to their conversations.

To help get you into the mindset, imagine yourself a local. Or at least someone who’s been in the city for some time.

This was harder to do when we made a wrong turn, hit a dead end and had to walk back past a group of men. But fake it till you make it. If they say something, just tell them, “We’re good.”

 

7. Try your smartphone.

We didn’t have a data plan abroad, so we didn’t use use our phones. But fellow travelers said that there were Google Maps or another app that was surprisingly helpful for navigating the medina. I’m a bit skeptical, given the labyrinthian nature of this ancient city — but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to try it out.

A butcher in one of the more-populated areas of the medina

8. Let yourself get lost.

Everyone doles out this advice. And it’s all well and good, as long as you’re not trying to find something specific. For our third day in Fès, we had nothing planned but wandering the medina and shopping. And that was the day we didn’t worry if we didn’t know where we were going — just so long as we were back in the safety of our riad by dark.

 

9. Friday is a great day to wander a less-crowded Fès.

This is the day of worship for Muslims. So wandering on Friday is actually a lot more chill. You’ll get hassled less, as mosques keep many of the people away. As an added bonus, shops that are open are often willing to give a good deal since business will be slow.


As I mentioned, the Fès medina can be intimidating. But by following this advice, you should be able to navigate the seemingly endless twists and turns on your own…somewhat successfully. –Wally

Travel Karma

Some trips are blessed, some cursed.

We are all connected, as this detail from a Jain temple in Rajasthan, India shows

My son’s friend went off a cliff on a defective scooter on the Greek island of Poros. He had to be flown to Athens on the orders of the local doctor whose limited English had him explain, “I can see his mind.” In other words, a big gash in the head.

My rented jeep was confiscated when the owner saw a wrecked scooter in the back. My son’s scooter was confiscated when he rode through town during siesta looking for help. Bad travel karma.

“We all put one foot slowly behind the other, except for a newlywed groom who turned and ran, knocking his bride to the ground without ever breaking stride. They did not speak for the rest of the trip.”

My two friends and I met Ahmed on the train in Morocco from Rabat to Fès. Ahmed was middle-aged, skinny, snaggle-toothed — too much sugar in the mint tea — and extremely talkative. He was a nice man and we had three hours to kill. We heard about his nine siblings and his extended family of 45, who prevent him from selling his father’s riad since he can’t get everyone to sign the papers. Ahmed worked for the leather cooperative.

He wasn’t pushy but he gave us his number. When we called, he sent Abdul, who guided us to the tannery and gave us a tour of the medina, two hours, more than five miles, much of it uphill. He led us through the rat’s maze of streets and the crush of people and didn’t seem to mind that, although we bought leather, we didn’t buy anything else. A nice guy showing people his hometown. Good travel karma.


Bad travel karma can haunt you for years.

We were told by the guide in Zimbabwe that if charged by a lion, we must not run and we must not panic. We set off on foot through Matusadona on Lake Kariba. A female lion crossed the dry riverbed we were walking down. We stopped. She disappeared into the bush. We went on. She charged when we came even with her and her two cubs.

A charging lion makes a noise that shakes the earth, a growl that starts in the soles of your feet and travels to the back of your neck like a lightning striking. We all froze. The guide raised his gun but did not cock it. We stared at her. She stared at us. The guide whispered, “Back up.” We all put one foot slowly behind the other, except for a newlywed groom who turned and ran, knocking his bride to the ground without ever breaking stride. The guide scooped her up with one hand while still aiming at the lioness. The bride and groom did not speak for the rest of the trip. Bad travel karma is a bad start to a marriage.

Good travel karma can be accrued.

In Turkey, Egypt and Morocco, taxis are often shared. You give the driver your destination, but if there’s room, he may stop and pick up somebody else. Sometimes even if there’s not room. Cabs never use their meters and never have change. Pay it forward. How much for the lady in the front seat with the two gallons of olive oil?

A little global goodwill goes a long way, and you may earn so much good travel karma that your Airbnb host serves a lunch of tagine with fresh sardines and warm bread.

 

How to Accrue Good Travel Karma

  • Don’t give money to beggar children; give pencils.
  • Always give away leftovers.
  • Pack used clothes to trade at street markets in sub-Saharan Africa. They can be worn or sold. Used jeans, and you’re royalty for a day.
  • Pose for pictures with people. I am in the family albums of more Indian families than I can count, often with their children in my lap.

Karma goes around and it comes around, the original global energy. –Rebecca

20 Best Instagram Photos of 2016

You saw, you liked. Here are our best-rated travel photos on Instagram of last year.

 

Looking back, 2016 taught me the importance of staying connected to friends near and far. Seeking new perspectives to overcome hurdles and nurturing the labor of love Wally and I call the Not So Innocents Abroad.

Our hope is to share our experiences of other cities and other cultures. Whether exploring the unusual 161-year-old Dhundiraj Ganpati Mandir wooden Hindu temple in Baroda, India or asking our friends abroad to vocalize how they felt about the polarizing effects of the American election, we’re grateful for the role you’ve played and look forward to welcoming a year filled with optimism and new adventures.

 

Choose Your Own Adventure

As the old adage goes, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” Predicting what makes one image more engaging than another can be difficult to determine and often, like art, is simply subjective.

From amazing destinations that include Cambodia, France, India and Morocco, here’s a look back at our most popular Instagrams of last year.

Follow us on Instagram — and be a part of the action! –Duke

1. If Aix-en-Provence, France doesn’t charm you with its markets, food and architecture, there is no shortage of magnificent elaborately hand-carved entry doors to look at.

2. The beautiful Italianate courtyard outside the Darbar Hall at Laxmi Vilas Palace in Vadodara, India.

3. Deco Darling. Tucked away in the Fès Medina, Morocco, is the beautiful Palais Amani. Originally owned by a prominent Fassi family of merchants, the majority of the residence was rebuilt in the Art Deco style after a landslide badly damaged the 17th century property.

4. The Café St. Regis was one of our favorite spots to enjoy breakfast when we visited Paris, France.

5. The façade of Notre Dame in Paris has many interesting details, but perhaps none as unique as the sculpture in the left portal holding his head. The statue is of St. Denis, said to have picked his head up after being decapitated and walked six miles, while preaching a sermon of repentance the entire way. If it takes me 45 minutes on the treadmill at 6 miles per hour, he would have walked an hour plus!

6. Both covered and open-air, the green metal pavilions from the 1900s form the charming flower market located on Place Louis Lépine in Paris, between the Notre Dame Cathedral and Sainte Chapelle chapel.

7. A view of the magnificent Rajon Ki Baoli stepwell in Delhi, India, built by Daulat Khan during the reign of Sikandar Lodi in 1516. Chambers located behind the arch-shaped niches once provided respite from the heat and a place for patrons to socialize.

8. One of the splendid staircases with its elegant wrought-iron railing inside the 18th century Hotel d’Albertas mansion in Aix-en-Provence, France. Embellishments such as these were a sign of family wealth intended to call out the social status of the owner.

9. Neptune wielding a trident riding on a fish by sculptor André Massoule on the Beaux-Arts Pont Alexandre III in Paris. A marvel of 19th century engineering, this bridge consists of a 20-foot-high single-span steel arch.

10. Musical Chairs. I was awestruck by the hypnotic symmetry of the rows of empty ladder-back chairs awaiting the devout at Saint Suplice in Paris. The ethereal Catholic church, located in the 6th arrondissement, is the second largest in Paris and it was in some movie called The Da Vinci Code. 😜

11. The enormous grooved stump of lime mortar and rubble masonry are all that remains of the unfinished Alai Minar in Delhi. The minaret was intended to rival the Qutb Minar in both size and scale, but was never completed.

12. Part of the Right Bank, this busy square located in Montmartre, Paris is known for its portrait artists and painters. During the Belle Époque, at the beginning of the 20th century, many artists, including Pablo Picasso, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec and Vincent van Gogh resided and worked here.

13. Fez was founded in 859 CE. The origin of the name is unknown. Some scholars believe it comes from the old Berber name of the Middle Atlas Mountains, Fazaz. Other stories trace the name back to a tale of a golden axe that divided the river of Fez into two halves. In Arabic, a fez is an axe.

14. Built by sculptor Jean-Claude Rambot and situated in the heart of the Mazarin district, the Fountain of the Four Dolphins in Aix supports an obelisk topped with a pineapple. We spent an afternoon here with our sketchbooks pretending we were bohemian artistes.

15. The stunning Angkor Wat temple, the largest religious monument in the world, was built by Khmer king Suryavarman II in Siem Reap, Cambodia. It’s a symbolic representation of Mount Meru, the Mount Olympus of the Hindu faith and the abode of ancient gods. The complex has been in continuous use since it was built.

16. Benched. There is something beautiful in the patina of these benches in Aix Cathedral combined with the well-worn brick floor that has stood the test of time.

17. A Room With a View. Our grand suite at the Udai Bilas Palace in Dungarpur, India looked out onto the tranquil waters of Gaibsagar Lake, where the royal family’s private island temple dedicated to the Lord Shiva floats serenely.

18. Set in Stone. A white marble cenotaph lies at the center of Safdarjung’s tomb in Delhi.

19. Kittens and cats are a common sight among the streets of the Marrakech Medina in Morocco, indifferent to the activity around them. This little guy came to visit while we were sitting having coffee.

20. Louvre is in the air at Paris’ famous museum.

Hammam Spa Treatments

In which our correspondent bravely tests Turkish steam baths around the world to let you know exactly what to expect from a hammam and which are her favorites.

Turkish-style baths, or hammams, aren’t quite like this anymore

I was a bit nervous at first. Rebecca, one of the founders of the company I work for, called me into her office. As I took my seat, I saw a blurry photo of Rebecca with a massive smile on her face and asked where it was taken. Turns out it was on an African safari as she was jostled along in the back of an open vehicle. It was one of those exuberant moments you experience while traveling that bring you joy every time you recollect it.

Once I realized we shared a passion for travel, the conversation (and those that followed) came quickly and easily.

“Except for my submission to heat, steam, merciless scrubbing and pelting cold showers, the world would never know where to obtain the cleanest, most open pores. In other words, it would be a smaller, grubbier place.”

Having just returned from a trip to Morocco, Rebecca was kind enough to write up a couple of travel essays for us. The poor dear has suffered through numerous pamperings (and intense scrub-downs) on multiple continents to educate you on what exactly to expect from a hammam experience — and to tell you her favorites.  –Wally

 

Hammam Me

I have been to hammams in five countries. My patronage of sybaritic Turkish steam baths is not for my own enjoyment nor my need for yet more relaxation on a relaxing vacation. I once let a small, brown-skinned woman lash me with a sheaf of wet herbs while we squatted inside a pizza oven — and I paid her to do it.

I do this as a public service. Consider it my gift to humanity. Except for my submission to heat, steam, merciless scrubbing and pelting cold showers, the world would never know where to obtain the cleanest, most open pores. In other words, it would be a smaller, grubbier place.

A hammam, if you’ve never been in one, is a structure built of stone. Some are palatial — marble-lined rooms, floors, ceilings and walls — some are humble like the mud-brick pizza oven. There is a steamy heat source, maybe jets embedded in the ceiling, maybe water poured over hot bricks. You lie, naked (or with “disposable” underpants, which is as good as naked), on some stone surface which is itself warm, then hot. You close your eyes, at least in part to keep the sweat from running in them, and you wait. Maybe you doze.

Eventually, when your pores are at their most receptive, an attendant enters. (There are hammams that break the strictly unisex rule but they cater to tourists and are to be avoided just as you should avoid restaurants with pictures of the food instead of words on the menu.) The attendant has a loofah and sometimes a sponge. Attendants are large, with biceps like prizefighters and that same disapproving expression your mother had while bathing you after a tough day in the sand box. The small, brown-skinned woman was only the exception that proves the rule.

The attendant begins to scrub you with the loofah. It is a pitiless but thoroughly comforting experience. One human being performing an intimate personal service for another — again, bath time, mother and child, often with the requisite tsk-tsking.

The loofah may be followed by the sponge. Now you feel bathed rather than flayed. You skin begins to breathe again, to thank you for the detoxing.

Finally, the attendant rinses you, dipping a bowl into cooler and cooler water and pouring it over every inch of freshly excavated flesh.

That camel trek in the Atlas Mountains? A gritty puddle on the floor. That week of sunblock mixed with bug spray and safari dust? Circling the drain in a muddy swirl. All those dead skin cells unexfoliated in years of regular but admittedly perfunctory showers? Pilled up in a truly shameful way all over your body. All of it washed away, leaving nothing but new muffin tops from too much Turkish delight. You are as pink and soft as a newborn, appropriately swaddled in clean, dry towels.

Now comes the best part. The large woman hands you, somewhat literally, to another woman, smaller, lither, more nimble but with hands like a bricklayer’s, without the callouses. Let her knead your muscles but shake her hand at your peril. The massage lasts anywhere from an hour to 90 minutes, according to my research. At some point, she will have to manually turn you over when you have reached the energy level of cooked pasta.

The only possible post-hammam activity is a nap. Try to avoid sucking your thumb and curling into the fetal position.

All I have to say for this exhaustive, entirely altruistic research: You’re welcome.
 

Rebecca’s Hammam Superlatives

Most beautiful hammam: Istanbul, Turkey

Best towels: Cairo, Egypt (Egyptian cotton)

Best soap: Fès, Morocco (black eucalyptus)

Best scrub: Agadir, Morocco (stern Berber woman)

Best sponges: Sharm el-Sheikh, Egypt (harvested just offshore)

Best aromatherapy: Oaxaca, Mexico (herbs from the garden)

Best massage: Oaxaca

Close second: Siem Reap, Cambodia (not strictly speaking a hammam, but the whole country is so humid, you can get the effect anytime you’re outside)

Most confusing: Pizza oven

Chocolate Mousse With Espresso and Ras el Hanout Recipe

This chocolate and espresso mousse just awaits its topping with ras el hanout

This standout Moroccan dessert comes straight from the chef of the Ruined Garden in Fès.

 

During our trip to Fès we dined at the Ruined Garden twice. On our first visit, we did not save room for dessert, but when we returned, we chose the Chocolate & Espresso Mousse with Ras el Hanout. We were not disappointed. The mousse was the perfect size, too: little pots of rich, velvety mousse deliciousness with an unexpected exotic finish.

Ras el hanout is a complex and distinctive North African spice mix. The name is Arabic for “head of the shop” or “top shelf” and consists of a combination of the best spices the merchant has to offer. Each shop has its own blend, the quantities of which vary according to the maker.

I wrote to chef Robert Johnstone, who shared the recipe with us — and gave us the kind permission to run it on our blog. He makes 17 at a time, and the day before he serves them, he puts them in the fridge to set for a few hours. I scaled the recipe down and converted from metric to U.S. measurements.

 

Chocolate & Espresso Mousse With Ras el Hanout


Special Equipment

8 (3-ounce) small espresso glasses or cups. Small is best, as the mousse is very rich.
Saucepan
Measuring cup for pouring the mousse into the glasses or cups

Yield: Makes 8 servings
Active Time: 30 minutes
Total Time: 3 hours to overnight



Ingredients

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 1½ to 2 teaspoons instant espresso powder
• pinch of salt
• 7 ounces 72% chocolate
• 3.5 ounces 52% chocolate
• 2 shots of strong espresso
• ras el hanout
 

Preparation

Heat the cream in a pan. Once it is just about to boil, turn off the heat and add all of the chocolate, espresso and instant espresso powder.

Cover the pan and leave for 5 minutes or until the chocolate has melted fully into the cream. Then mix slowly but thoroughly. Try not to whip, as if you do the mixture will have bubbles — not a major problem, but they may spoil the finish.

Once you think all is mixed, check by lifting the spoon out and looking at the texture on the back of the spoon. If you can see small grains of chocolate, the finished mousse will be grainy, so you should mix for a little longer, and the bits will disappear.

While still hot, carefully pour the mixture into the glasses (we took Robert's advice to sprinkle a tiny bit of salt into the bottom of each glass in advance). Fill as close to the top as you can.

Leave to cool a little, then put into the fridge overnight or for at least 3 hours.

Finish with a dusting of any spice mixture you fancy as long as there’s a little pepper or heat — though we recommend ras el hanout, of course. You’re ready to serve!

They keep for a week in the fridge.

Note: You can make with all 72% chocolate, though you may need to add a little sugar to the hot cream. –Duke

Photos of the Fes Medina That Will Take You to Another World

Fez, Morocco’s old city is an often intense, often beautiful experience. These pictures only begin to tell the story.

 

Fès is a city like no other. You could say that, I suppose, about many cities. But Fès is the real deal. The old part of the city is entirely car-free, and consists of a maze-like series of narrow, enclosed walkways. You literally never know what lies around the next corner: a gorgeous zelij tilework fountain, a bunch of roosters tied to a cage, a butcher stall marked by a decapitated camel head, a young man sitting in the faded beauty of a crumbling doorway, a donkey laden with Moroccan textiles or, of course, kitties! Lots and lots of kitties! –Wally

“Fès was like the stairwells at Hogwarts. I’m convinced the roads shifted behind me.”
— Greg, a friend and fellow traveler

Beware This Shop in the Fes Medina

The store itself is full of interesting items — all ridiculously overpriced

When shopping in Fez, there’s one store you absolutely should avoid.

 

Feeling euphoric from our experience at Fès Bleu Art, we passed through an alleyway and entered a shop with an ornate stucco ceiling decorated with stalactites resembling the honeycomb of a beehive.

The shopkeeper invited us in saying, “No obligation to buy — just look around.” Wally began taking pictures and I surveyed the merchandise. The shop really is fun to explore; it’s just that the owner makes the experience awful.

“He intimated that a powerful mafia ran the souk, stealing a portion of his profits. ”

When I paused to look at a stoneware inkwell decorated with Arabic calligraphy, the shopkeeper asked where I was from. I told him we were visiting from Chicago and really just looking.

He used a tactless ploy, telling me that he was Jewish and because of this he would offer us a fair price. He added that because we were his first customers we were obligated to purchase something.

“You have to buy something or you will have bad luck and I will have bad luck,” he told us. Charming.

He also intimated that a powerful mafia ran the souk, stealing a portion of his profits. There was nothing subtle or nuanced about his demeanor.

The shopkeeper does everything he can to finagle a sale, including pleading and, ultimately, cursing

I hadn’t expected to hear a shopkeeper speak this way, regardless of his personal opinion. I offhandedly asked how much he wanted for the inkwell, and he replied 3,500 dirham. I had also looked at a turquoise glazed stoneware basin oil lamp, which he quoted at 7,500 dirham. The basin had clearly broken off from its slender base and been reattached. He told us everything in his shop were artifacts. Honestly, I couldn't identify a valuable antique from an item that looks old, but clearly felt that this guy was duplicitous and trying to pull a fast one on me. I did sort of want the inkwell, but not for the equivalent of $350, so I put the objects down and told Wally we were leaving.

As we made our way towards the door the shop owner suddenly turned nasty, cursing us and muttering profanities under his breath.

We recommend that you do comparison shopping, as a neighboring shop may very well have the same item. We found one offering an array of beaded terracotta heads from Nigeria. We had purchased one in Marrakech three years prior for 250 dirham, and the shopkeeper in Fès started at 700. He also had some excellent bronzes and more than a few basin oil lamps, artifacts or otherwise — none of which were previously broken and all of which were a fraction of the price at the other store.

After exploring the cavernous shop (and escaping the clutches of the evil shopkeeper), flee out this door and back into the meandering medina

If you spot this short, dark-haired man in his pink plastic chair up the street from Place Seffarine, be on your guard. The prices are 10 times as high as they should be, and you just might face a curse from the tactless shopkeep. –Duke

The Best Shop for Blue Pottery in the Entire Fez Medina

Fès is known for its delightful blue and white pottery

If you’re shopping in Fès, just off of Place Seffarine is a small shop with a friendly owner and great deals.

 

Each morning our breakfast at Dar Bensouda, our riad in the depths of the Fès, Morocco medina, was served in the most charming cobalt blue and white hand-painted pottery. Having read that Fassi craftsmen are known for their ceramic artistry, we ventured out to see what we could find.

RELATED: 8 Tips to Get the Best Deals in a Souk

Miraculously, by day three, we managed to make our way through the medina’s maze of alleyways and back to Place Seffarine, the metalworkers’ square. It was a Friday, so it was relatively quiet. Local guides will advise against shopping the souks on Fridays, the Islamic holy day, telling you that shops are closed in observance. However, we have found that this isn’t completely accurate. Although some shops may be closed, the souks are generally less chaotic and easier to navigate.

“The shop was a visual feast for the senses. Every square inch of the floors and walls was covered with bowls, platters, soap dishes and pitchers.”

A shop to the side of the square had some interesting and old-looking metalwork pieces on display. One in particular, a palm-sized tarnished brass astrolabe caught my eye. These scientific tools were used to track the position of the sun and stars to astronomically determine the five specific times of prayer and as an aid in finding the Qibla, the sacred direction of Mecca. I should have downplayed the fact that I was interested in it, as Wally’s ability to barter like a Berber seemed to have little to no effect on the shopkeeper.

 

Fès Bleu Art is overflowing with handcrafted pottery made by local artisans

True Blue

We moved on, following one of the offshoot alleyways. Located just off Place Seffarine, a pair of whimsical outstretched hands of Fatima drew us into Fès Bleu Art, a shop filled with hand-painted Fassi pottery.

The shop was a visual feast for the senses. Small and narrow, the shelves were full of petite, richly varied tagines and small lidded vessels like the ones we had seen at our riad. Every square inch of the floors and walls was covered with bowls, platters, soap dishes and pitchers.

The charming shop owner, Zouhir, offers reasonable deals — perhaps the best in the medina

The affable shop owner, Zouhir, who told us he was a descendant of the Idrisid dynasty, struck up a friendly conversation with us. Asking where we were from, he spoke to us in earnest, explaining how he offers a fair price on his pottery and how to identify the authenticity of a piece: Locally produced stoneware have the word Fas (the Arabic spelling of Fès) hand-painted on the bottom.

We had heard Zouhir speaking with another couple when we entered his shop, and during his exchange he had mentioned pricing, which we were pleased to realize is quite affordable.

Fassi pottery is glazed in white and embellished with cobalt oxide, which produces a vibrant shade of blue during kiln firing. Designs typically feature motifs and patterns including flowers, zigzags, chevrons, dots, triangles and crosshatching, all of which are used to convey messages.

For example, diamond or star-shaped lozenge motifs represent an eye that deflects evil, while a shape with five points or branches conjures the protection of the hamsa, or hand of Fatima.

We began to pick out pieces and put them to the side. What makes these so exceptional in my opinion is that matched sets do not exist, as they are entirely handmade. I think we purchased almost every hand-painted hamsa tile Zouhir had. Wally decided to give them out as gifts to his coworkers.

Zouhir’s prices, as we mentioned, are quite fair. So don’t expect him to come down substantially in price. And don’t worry — you’ll still be getting perhaps the best deal in the entire medina.

On our last day in Fès, we returned to the shop to purchase even more pottery — many of which I made sure to carry on, for fear of returning home with broken shards. –Duke

These Gruesome Photos of the Meknès Market Are Enough to Turn You Vegetarian

This is about as tame as the Meknès meat market got. More graphic shots to follow

Local markets provide a glimpse into the daily life of a culture. Just watch out for the decapitated cow heads.

 

One of the best ways to see a local culture in action is to visit a food market. You’ll also get plenty of awesome photo opps.

I first discovered this pleasure one day when I wandered off on my own in Cusco, Peru and stumbled upon a local food market. Since then, markets — whether they’re in Spain, Vietnam or Morocco — are must-stops for Duke and me.

“It was as if we had found ourselves suddenly the unwitting victims of a horror movie.”

So, when we noticed an interior market connected to the stalls of the main plaza in Meknès (on a day trip that included the Roman ruins of Volubilis), we were excited to wander through it. At first, we passed stalls of brightly colored fruits and vegetables. But at the back, it was as if we had found ourselves suddenly the unwitting victims of a horror movie. We had entered the horrific domain of the meat market.

It was unlike anything we had ever seen. In the United States, we’re so used to brightly lit, sterile supermarket aisles, where our meat is often deboned, trimmed of fat, individually wrapped in plastic. There’s no real hint that the pinkish cut of meat was once a chicken or that the hunk of red beef actually came from a cow.

That connection to the meat’s origin was like a slap in the face in the Meknès market. It’s inescapable.

Click on the photos below to enlarge. You know you want to see them in all their gory glory.

We wandered through the butchers’ stalls, dazed and amazed. Many chuckled at our reaction, while some of the men scowled as I snapped away quickly on my camera.

The images came quick and violent. Decapitated cow heads, their tongues lolling out. A boy digging his hands into a bowl of brains. Goat heads amidst a splattering of blood. Razor in hand, a young man intently shaving the side of an animal’s face. Haphazard piles of bloated legs, a nauseating yellow, ending in cloven hooves. Macabre dissections revealing raw, red tissue in stark contrast to the white of sawed-through bones.

Duke and I couldn’t stop smiling. –Wally

“Decapitated cow heads, their tongues lolling out. A boy digging his hands into a bowl of brains. Goat heads amidst a splattering of blood. ”

A Tour of the Roman Ruins and Mosaics of Volubilis

The ruins of the Roman city of Volubilis can be paired with an excursion to Meknès.

The ruins of the Roman city of Volubilis can be paired with an excursion to Meknès.

When visiting Fès, Morocco, be sure to take a day trip to see the remarkably well-preserved tile mosaics of the ancient city of Volubilis.

 

It never occurred to me that there’d be Roman ruins in Morocco, though I suppose I knew on some level that the Roman Empire extended to Northern Africa.

But when I read about the remains of the town of Volubilis, just outside of Fès, I knew it had to make our itinerary. And, as someone obsessed with Ancient Rome — poor Duke has had to sit through countless shows about the subject — I knew a visit to Volubilis was exactly how I wanted to spend my birthday. (A lady never reveals her age. But I’m not a lady. It was my 44th.)

““Bulemics. Vomitoriums. Feather to tickle the throat. They vomit. Eat more.”

He pointed across the way. “Then happy ending. At brothel. Secret passage from hammam to brothel.””

Even a rainy forecast wasn’t going to disappoint me.

Duke and Wally didn't let a little rain get in the way of an enjoyable trip to Volubilis, Morocco.

We arranged a day trip to Volubilis and Meknès through our riad. A guide led us through the twists and turns of the narrow lanes, through an ornate gate and out into a square. Our driver for the day was a friendly young guy named Hafid.

The drive wasn’t what we expected. I’m not sure what we thought the Moroccan countryside would look like but we were pleasantly surprised to pass through rolling green and golden hills dotted with green poofs of trees.

The view on the drive from Fès to Volubilis

A half-hour or so later, we arrived at Volubilis. Hafid asked if we wanted a guide to the site and we decided we did. Boy, were we glad we made that choice. Our guide, Rashid (which I learned appropriately means “rightly guided”) was a complete comedian. He’d walk through the ruins, his hands in his pockets, the bright red hood up on his stylish black coat. Rashid, who was obviously very knowledgeable about the site, spoke in short sentences, everything layered with a dry wit. Like bullet bursts of naughty poetry.

If the dry-witted Rashid is around, we recommend requesting him as your guide.

“Carpe diem,” Rashid said. “Roman motto. Short lives. Lived life to fullest.”

We clamored over the damp grass to the remains of a nouveau riche home opposite the town baths. Rashid pointed to what was once a bathroom.

“Bulemics. Vomitoriums. Feather to tickle the throat. They vomit. Eat more.”

He pointed across the way. “Then happy ending. At brothel. Secret passage from hammam to brothel.”

We learned that the structures of Volubilis amazingly had heated floors and plumbing. Unfortunately, that plumbing was toxic.

“Romans all crazy,” Rashid said, his face a mask revealing no emotion. “Lead poisoning. Pipes.”

As we walked along a muddy path, Rashid pointed to wildflowers.

“Morning glory. Very pretty weed. We call it ‘mile-a-minute.’ Grows very fast. It’s what Volubilis means.”

Flowers color the surrounding area, making a nice contrast to the stone ruins of this Roman town.

I didn’t know if I should believe everything Rashid told us. But I was also too entertained to worry too much about veracity. I’ve always been a huge proponent of Why let the truth get in the way of a perfectly good story?

Atop the crest of a small hill, we turned in a circle, surveying the landscape.

“Strategic location,” Rashid explained. “Water. Wheat. Olive. What more you need?” He put his head down and began descending the hill. We could barely hear him add, “Chocolate.”

Rashid was obviously very proud of this little-known historic site.

“Like Tuscany,” he said, his chest swelling ever so slightly. “Who would know this is Morocco? No one. If they do not come. Everyone should see Volubilis.”

The stork nests atop columns at the remains of the forum of Volubilis have become a tourist favorite.

The rain came down in spurts. Duke, trying to look on the bright side, pointed out that the site was probably a lot less crowded due to the inclement weather.

“We should pray to Apollo for the sun,” I said as we approached the forum, with its slender columns topped with stork nests.

“No,” Rashid said. “Jupiter was the god of the weather.” He pointed to a stone slab in the middle of a piazza. “You can make sacrifice. Goat or sheep.”

“We should have brought one,” I said.

Rashid commented, “Yes. Barbecue.”

 

Mosaic Masterpieces

The site is most famous for its mosaics. These are remarkably well-preserved, especially those in the wealthier part of town, away from the hammam and the nouveau riche home. The rich didn’t need easy access to the public baths — they had their own.

Frankly, I’m astounded these mosaics haven’t been completely picked apart. They’ve been here in the middle of the countryside for centuries, with no security, nothing to stop pillagers. Imagine having a Roman ruin remaining relatively untouched for so long. I was giddy with excitement.

This mosaic of a guy who got on his horse backward is known as the Acrobat.

One of the mosaics features Diana, the goddess of the hunt, bathing. When the poor fellow Actaeon came upon her, and saw the goddess nude, she punished him by turning him into a stag. He was torn apart by his own hounds.

A mosaic of the goddess Diana bathing — before she catches a peeping Tom and devises a horrific fate for him

“Oh, deer!” Rashid said as he finished the story, and Duke and I burst out laughing.

Many of the mosaics of Volubilis are in surprisingly good shape.

After we had toured the mosaics, Rashid got a mischievous glint in his eye. “Come, come,” he said. “I saved the best for last.”

We hurried after him, wondering what he was up to. “You’ll see,” he said. “Best site in all of Volubilis.”

He stopped and turned around, blocking a rectangular stone. He almost cracked a smile as he moved to the side in a dramatic reveal.

There before our eyes was a carving of what was undeniably a huge penis.

Rashid explained that this marker designated the brothel. I of course couldn’t resist. I straddled the stone while Duke took a picture.

Wally clowns around with the phallic marker that designated the local whorehouse.

“Great photo,” Rashid said, utterly deadpan. “Can be your Christmas card.”

If he only knew that wasn’t so far-fetched. –Wally

Read more about the history of Volubilis here.