Morocco: Fés

Morocco, to me, is the land of great culture, history and architecture. In light of this, I decided to visit two out of the four Moroccon imperials cities.

Leaving Rabat in the late afternoon, we arrived about four hours later in Fés. It was dark and our riad was not on the GPS. There was no one who knew where the riad was. So we did what I knew i.e. I hopped in a taxi and by boyfriend drives the car following the taxi. It was a good plan except the taxi driver did not drive slowly or at normal speed. I was scared as hell when at some point I could not see my boyfriend tailing us.

Well, we got there in the end. After all the mess with the visa, we were both so estatic to be in Morocco.

Nothing could spoil our mood...

We got a nice room at the riad Sheherezade. In Morocco, all the riads have unmarked doors on back streets, making them hard to find. It is worthwhile to print marked locations on google map. Our room was impressive but there was a faint stench from the wall where water once leaked. But we were too overwhelmed and tired. So we got a good night's sleep.

The next morning, when we got down to the courtyard for breakfast, it finally set in. We were in Morocco!

The birds were chirping and the food was good. If we had tails, they would be wagging big time.

Then we got out into the real world. The first thing that we had to take care of was to pay for parking. An old man who wore a glow-in-the-dark fluorescent vest demanded for parking fees. So we paid and took the opportunity to ask for directions. At that moment, we made the biggest mistake of the entire trip. We told the old man it was our first time in Morocco. Soon after, his grandson was following us as we stumbled towards the medina (market). The teenage boy offered to be our guide.

I read warnings in the Lonely Planet that we should only take qualified guides with the right documents. So we declined the boy's offer. But yet, he continued following us, trying to convince us.

When we finally entered the medina through a side entrance, three other teenage boys joined in. They all knew each other. With the boys, all about 15-16 years old, surrounding us, it was hard to move along.

When we went into shops, they would wait outside. The convincing turned aggressive after a good ten minutes. Then they began hustling. At first, my boyfriend was the target. They called him names aimed at white men. Then as they noticed I had a role to play in the decision-making, the targetted me too. One of their tactics were to separate my boyfriend and I, standing between us. Their words became stronger, angrier.

"Why come to Morocco if you don't want to deal with locals?""Are we not good enough for you?""Fuck you!""You're an ugly jew"...All these and more were shouted to our face. When we could not stand it anymore, he picked the softest of the boys with the condition that the rest leave us. It was the second biggest mistake we made. We had, at that point, went down the path that Lonely Planet was trying to warn us against.

The boy brought us to a carpet workshop. After a mere ten minutes of "cultural talk", the carpet dealer tried to sell us carpets at European prices. The boy obviously saw a commission in his pocket. We had no idea where we were as we got there through a whole maze of back alleys which make us the network within the walls of the medina. We bought a small carpet and then he showed us the southfort, except on the way "we need to see the leather dye workshop too".

This time, we played interested but insisted on NOT buying anything. Finally, we were led out of the workshop to a "special" place for lunch. Although the restaurant was beautiful and the food was good, the prices were danish prices! I remember it being the first Tajine I have had in my life but also the most expensive.

During lunch, I tried to talk to the boy. I figured that we might as well get cordial since he may be the only local I will have lunch with. He was conscious not to eat "our food". I tried to tell him that Malaysia is a muslim country but non-muslims can also have their own way of life.

I think he found that hard to digest. Then he slowly opened up. I think the temptation was too strong that he couldn't help speaking his mind about Islam and how the west is rotten. There is a certain hatred towards the french in particular. But he also made a joke that he was a berber. I didn't know if it was a joke. Later, I would learn to tell them apart - the arabs and the berber.

After lunch, we headed out to the stalls. Midway, our guide started retreating and after a few minutes, we realised we were back tracking. So I asked and he told me there were police. They are there to ensure that unlicensed guides do not operate. I smiled at the irony of his frankness and the situation we were in. We found shelter at a tea place. While we were sipping mint tea, our guide left briefly and came back. He told us that the police found him and are waiting at the door. He asked if we could help him pay some money to the police. He tried to tap into our sympathy. Being Asian, I did consider for a while. Not that I'm into bribery but I got the idea that these boys are poor, brainwashed and have no future.

My boyfriend looked the boy in the eyes and told him to go. We end it for the day and he can go home. The police cannot arrest him then. I offered to buy him one more cup of tea. He smiled, said goodbye and left.

We enjoyed our tea alone in peace, wondering what the rest of our Moroccan journey holds. We were both emotionally tired as we walked back to the riad. The old man was there and so was his teenage grandson. They both waved and smiled like nothing has happened. I actually stopped feeling angry. Was it some sort of Stockholm syndrome?

The next day, we checked out after breakfast and left Fés towards the south.