Chilling in an Insane Fez

I woke up at 9 AM this morning after setting my alarm and watching some Curb last night. I love that show – it makes me laugh even when I’m down. Unfortunately, it was pouring down rain when I woke up so I stayed in bed for a while waiting for it to let up. After a while, I decided to be a little productive rather than sulking in bed, so I pulled out my computer to study for the FSOT. This was perhaps the first time that I’d actually sat down and really devoted my time to it. When I studied in Nantes, I never got much done. I’m not expecting to pass considering the fact that I just started studying and am scheduled to take the exam just 2 days after I return from this little trip.

By the time the rain let up, I wanted to go back to sleep, but pulled myself out of bed to explore the medina a little more/ I don’t know if I’ll end up seeing the rest of Fez, but the medina is so crazy that I don’t think I’d mind. I could go see the much quieter “New Fez,” a 700 year old neighborhood . This is new relative to the rest of the city.

So, off I went to explore the Medina. First though, I wanted t walk to the main gate about 5 minutes away and take pictures all along the way so that I could follow them to get back. This was a fullproof plan, I proudly told myself. I still think it would have been a good plan if I had been able to find my way to this landmark gate.

Of course, I got ridiculously lost and ended up walking around the hills of the medina for hours. Generally, I would’ve been happy to be lost in there – I see it as a way to discover new things and to avoid worrying about directions. In this case, however, it had been 40 hours since I’d last had a bite to eat. I do this all the time – I just don’t eat. It’s not because I’m depressed about the mouse, I don’t think – it’s just because I normally don’t eat uless I’m hungry or she’s there to force feed me. Neither of those were the case until I woke up with my stomach in pain, begging for me to fill it up. “Ok, stomach. I’ll fill you up,” I said. Seriously, I said that. I was determined to find a cafe where I could eat and people watch. Unfortunately, the cafes in the medina were incredibly packed. finally swallowed my pride and asked someone for directions. Not only was it my pride that I swallowed, but my logic. Asking for help in the Medina is often asking to be scammed, but I was starvin like Marvin.

This guy about my age led me into a hole in the wall “restaurant.” I’m not sure, but I think it might have actually been a large hole in the wall – disgustingly dirty and much to small to serve as a proper kitchen, much less a restaurant. I asked the man for something cheap and good. He delivered. I was sat down on a little stool in front of the rusty sink and handed some kind of omelette stuffed in a loaf of traditional Moroccan bread for the price of 10 dirham, or 1 euro. The guy who showed me the restaurant asked if I wanted a coke for 5 dirham and I said sure. I hadn’t had anything to drink in a while, either. He ran off to another store and came back with a coke for me. In my head, I knew he’d be asking for money later, but I didn’t care. At one point when I brought up the price of my hotel, he offered to let me stay at his place for 5 euros a night, a fourth of what I’m currently paying. Had I not prepaid for the hotel, I would have taken him up on the offer.

I asked him to take me to the main gate so I could sit at the cafe where I now am, and where I was yesterday while I wrote. It’s directly in front of the Medina’s main gate, a large archway decorated with blue tiles and paintings. The openings of the gate resemble the shape of a mosque. Of course, I can hear the call to prayer from the minaret behind me. I love my coffee shops in Austin, but this is something else.

I’m not doing a lot of sightseeing but that’s just not what I need right now. I’m finding plenty of pleasure in observing. SMELLING the rich spices, the many leather shops, the tanneries which reek of dyes and animal skins, and the tea. Oh, the tea. WATCHING the people pass by, often with their mules and horses. Toothless men wearing their traditional hats and white beards, sipping on a glass of tea. Berber men wearin their traditional robes with pointed hoods (I thought this was an old stereotype, and didn’t realize that they’re everywhere you look). And a lot of moustaches. A lot. TASTING the omelette sandwich made by a man with gritty overworked hands and no gloves, which is a little disturbing knowing what the left hand is traditionally used for here. Tasting the tea, the tea, the tea. LISTENING to the sound of the call to prayer while I lay in bed at night, the police officer who is sitting next to me in the cafe and singing some melodic tune in Arabic, enjoying life. And then the piercing whistle that he stops and blows to discipline people across the street from the patio. Hearing “Balak!” and having some kind of idea of what it means. Maybe it means “look out, idiot!” or maybe it means “donkey on the way!” I’m not sure, but I know that I need to move when I hear it.

While I can’t say that I’m lonely here, I do wish that I had a friend to share the experience with, to take pictures with, to discuss the culture with. I do, however, feel that I’m taking full advantage of living in Europe. While Germany, Spain, Greece, and Eastern Europe are on my list of places to see, this is really something very different, and very special.

Related posts:

1. I’m in Africa!
2. Training it to Marrakech
3. M’a salama, Morocco
4. Holy Crap, I am an Idiot