A Day of Fès
Trip Start
Oct 23, 2006
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3
5
Trip End
Oct 30, 2006
Fes,
Morocco
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
My train left from platform nr. 1 and to reach it, I had to go up pretty steep stairs and there was an old lady really struggling to get up with her big suitcase. I ran up and offered to help her, which she gladly accepted. A bit different from the reaction of a lady I once offered to help in London, who just wanted me to get the heck away. Haha.
I had to wait at the train station for a while before my train left
Fes
. So I took my time to watch people go on with their lives. It caught my attention how men greet each other. They grab each other's right hand and then give each other at least one kiss on each cheek.It was also interesting seeing the contrast of traditions within the same culture, regarding dress code. There were girlfriends waiting for their train. One was dressed in modern fashion clothes, justlike any other European, but the other one in a traditional, black, tailor-made black robe and with a scarf hiding her hair, and the two girls held hands. There were also men in suits, in robes, and women with their hair and face completely covered.
Men in the train cabin
I borded the train, but it's a passenger train with cabins. I searched and searched, but all the cabins were beyond full. After some time standing, and a lot of time searching, I finally found a place in a cabin where one person had just left. Of course I had to start my glorious entrance to the cabin by stepping on people's toes (accidentally, obviously) and then fell into my seat. The cabin was full. Shortly there came an older lady and asked the only man in the cabin if she could have his seat. The man just pretended not to hear her and didn't move, while another woman stood up and let the older lady sit down
Fes
. Shortly after, the only man in the cabin stood up and left as we had reached his stop and there was now a much lighter air in the room, all the women started talking, a lot and very loud and when there came two new men at next stop, they immediately stopped talking again. A long while without a single word, until a foul smell filled our space. Apparently, one of the two men had just farted, and the women didn't just sit in silence, but all stood up, scolding the man, shouting at him, very angry. I'm sure they called him all sorts of horrible names - even though it was in Arabic and I don't understand it, but it sort of sounded like that. The man eventually ran out and the women opened the window.Arrival in Fès
I finally arrived at my destination and I finally felt like I had truly arrived in Morocco - the first thing that I saw, getting out of the train station was the large, colorful mosque tower. I was absolutely starving, but my first priority was to find a cybercafé to look up my CouchSurfing host, Hayar's, phone number, call her and then go to some restaurant to meet her. But plans changed. In Hayar's number there was one digit missing, and nobody could help me filling in the gap, so I couldn't contact her. The clock was ticking, night was soon coming and I had to find out what I was going to do.
I just went to some random place to eat something cheap and then took a taxi to the medina - which Fès is so famous for. The city has the world's largest medina and it's so big and complicated that it's near impossible to find your own way through it. The taxi recommended me a guide, probably a friend of his, and I thought, fuck it. I'll just hire a guide to get the most out of the little time I have in Fès
View over Fes
. The guide cost 150 dh. Plus, the guide supposedly spoke Arabic, Berber, French, Portuguese and Spanish - I was fine with Spanish. As we left, I realized he only spoke one and one word in each of those languages, besides Arabic and Berber. So I got a colorful mix of all five, understanding absolutely nothing. He was also in such a hurry to take me to all the places of interest before closing, that I barely got a chance to take pictures. It was just a race against time. I got a sneak-a-peek to an Islamic school and mosques, which I didn't really enjoy so much because my guide, Mohammed, wanted all my attention, that I should listen to him and not look around... and I couldn't really understand him, so it was a lose-lose situation. Once he had finished talking, he rushed to the next destination within the medina.Our last stop was at a the world famous leather tanneries of Fès, where I was shown around the area where the leather is colored, though everybody was done working that day. Then after the quick tour I was taken to the leather shop where I came across a pretty neat, black leather jacket made of goat skin. The guy at the shop took the jacket to the side and let me look around. Also saw a really nice belt of brown, rough and think leather, very smart looking. Then it was time to do some business. I had basically not thought about buying any of this stuff, I just liked to look
Fes
. I was too poor of a student to go ahead and buy lots of nice, fancy leather products. I told the guy in the shop so. He offered 3800 dh for the jacket - $490 USD - which I totally refused. Impossible! I'd rather buy a cheap one made of fake leather than real leather at that price! I didn't want to have anything to do with the jacket and told him repeatedly no. No. NO. But when the price was now 1300 dh for both the jacket and the belt... just 33% of the original price, I couldn't help myself and buy it. $170 USD for both pieces. I passed the man the money and BANG. There came a loud noise from outside - there had just started a tremendous thunderstorm. It was time to leave the leather factory and go outside to the horrendous weather. I had a rain poncho, but it was no use. I was completely soaked because no matter how much I tried to hide under my rain poncho, the water always found it's way. I was completely soaked from top to toe and Mohammed felt a bit sorry for me, as I didn't have a hotel to stay at, cause I had decided to take the night train to Marrakech that night, so he invited me to his family's house.Invitation to an evening with a Berber family
At Mohammed's home there were loads of people and everybody tried as hard as they could to say something to me, in the little French they knew. I was offered a super-overly-sweet mint tea - which is very normal in Morocco, and with it a simple, quite dry cake
Fes
. Once there was nothing left of the cake, Mohammed's wife brought bread, jam and cheese, which tasted a lot better.Mohammed proudly told me that all the women in his family know how to make Henna tattoos. They wanted me to try some on my hands, and as it's something enormously cultural in Morocco, of course I accepted. They also showed me photos of their previous guests who had also got henna tattoo. Not everybody gets to go to the home of a a berber family and get a free henna tattoo done in their house!
Like many things in Morocco, henna is made of natural herbs. It's mixed into some sort of propanol-water solution and mixed thorougly until forming some sort of paste, which is placed into a syringe with a thick, plastic needle and used to draw symbols on women's hands or feet.
When one of the sisters had been drawing flower patterns on my hand for a while, Mohammed asked me if I didn't want to just stay at his home in Fès overnight and take the train the morning after. That I could sleep and eat there, at no cost. I thought it was a very, very kind gesture, but I thought it probably wasn't a good idea, because then I'd lose a full day in just travelling from Fès to Marrakech - the idea of taking the train was a pretty good time saver. He didn't surrender just yet, and insisted I should relax and stay with them. That I should at least stay with them for dinner, which I accepted.
One man in his family is a preacher man, and he borrowed me his hat for the rest of the night
Fes
. They thought I looked pretty good with it on! Of course we had some laughs and took some photos.Then came dinner time. It started up a bit awkward. We gat one, big, common plate in the middle of the table for all 14 of us and then each person got loafs of bread, which they used to shove up food, as there are no plates, no forks, knives or spoons. It was a bit hard for me, because as hard as I tried with both of my hands to get some food to stick on my bread, usually the only think that I got was sauce. People stared at me. I wondered why, looked up and smiled. Then, No, no - I was told. You can't do that. You only eat food with the right hand, don't use the left. The left is used for.. you know... He said, miming himself wiping his butt with the left hand. Ahhhhh! I said, and immediately sorted out my tactics. Couldn't help but think though, without saying a word - I actually wipe my ass with the right hand, not the left. But some people actually wash their hands afterwards! People were constantly passing me a special plate with food, because they were afraid that with my clumsy way of eating I wouldn't manage to eat anything, as I was having a real hard time getting some food off the dish.
I can't really say it tasted good. It was a vegetable dish, mainly made of large cellery sticks and some sort of yellow sauce. It tasted so horribly bitter, and there was nothing to drink, so with that and the bread that came along, it was really hard to swallow.
After dinner, we got fruits for desert. That was a true struggle, as the fruit was supposed to be held only in my right hand, and peel it with my left. And I'm right handed. Working with my left was just not working out.
After this delightful, weird but fun evening with Mohammed's Berber family in Fès from 7pm to 11pm, it was time to head back to the train station Luckily I was there early, because the original departure time of my train was at 02:30 but had been changed to 01:40.
