Having met a well-informed and helpful young Moroccan on the train ride from Casablanca, we arrived in Fez with loads of new plans and ideas for the next part of our trip, and this ancient walled city was immediately a hit.
Though navigation through the maze of this grandaddy of Medinas proved notoriously difficult and we got lost on several occassions (as our guidebook suggested we would), we also discovered some of the hidden treasures of this world within a world: drinking fountains decorated with stunning mosaics which appear suddenly along otherwise unobtrusive alleys; market stalls crammed together in a manner reminiscent of a Picasso and selling (for example) nothing but handmade leather shoes in what seems like every colour imaginable; and glasses of deliciously sweet, freshly-squeezed orange juice served by enthuiastic street-side vendors.
It wasn’t all pleasant, however. The harassment we endured from young men posing as guides (particularly after dark) was often crude and nasty and it is very sad for me that visitors to a country should be subjected to this. Here’s hoping it is soon erradicated.
Nevertheless, we enjoyed delicious rooftop views (and meals), visited several of the many beautiful gates and archways of the city with their intricate carvings and inscriptions (including the blue and gold gates of the royal palace which were quite spectacular indeed), and continued to add to the growing weight of our bags with treasures gleaned from the fantastic variety on offer in the sprawling markets. I also received the most attentive and drawnout hair and beard cut of my life from an old barber is his tiny shop – a Moroccan experience a shan’t soon forget!
As a day-trip from Fez, we had been recommended to visit the nearby pilgrimage village of Moulay Idriss and the Roman ruins at Volubilis which have world heritage status. And so we did just that. Moulay Idriss was a bit of a dissapointment as the large mosque for which it is famous is closed to non-Muslims and the harassment from would-be guides was once again a problem.
Volubilis on the other hand was marvelous. The site is almost 2000 years old and represents the remains of a key trading city of the African part of the empire which was home to as many as 30 000 Roman subjects. This was my first visit to a Roman site of this kind and I was blown away. Many of the structures are remarkably well preserved: a bath house showing evidence of underfloor heating (and we imagine that we are advanced!), the central meeting area with its columns and stairways largely undisturbed by time (except for the nests of some storks which now reside here) and the homes of numerous roman citizens with their excellent mosaics still colourful despite lengthy exposure to the elements and hundreds of years of enhusiastic looting by the many people who have passed this way since they were made.
Standing in the road (still solid thanks to the prowess of long dead engineers), it was strange to imagine the colour and life that once lit up this place where now there is only stone and dust. A reminder perhaps that everything we now value will one day be a long forgotten footnote in history or the subject of yet another snapshot by a hurried package-tourist (from another planet perhaps?). Makes me want to lap up every moment joyfully before it slides into that oblivion…
After these rather hectic few days, we decided a break was in order. Luckily, only a few hours by bus from Fez, is the laid back town of Chefchauon and we decided to round out our visit to this part of the country with a few days unwinding in this relaxed corner of the world. With most of the houses painted a light pastel blue, this place is reminiscent of Jodphur in India and offers a similar sort of tranquility. Staying in a beautifully converted house near the top of a winding lane, we had a panoramic view from our rooftop terrace – exactly the sort of setting we had hoped for. Two days of peace ensuid – disturbed only by the excitement surrounding the Spanish victory in the FIFA World Cup – which was exactly what we had needed.
As I write this we are once again on the bus, this time bound for Marakesh. Buses and sleep (or indeed comfort of any sort) are mutually exclusive for me, so while Ana dozes beside me much to my envy, I am catching up on these thoughts. I am still a little behind because, between Fez and these torturous bus seats, we have visited and greatly enjoyed the desert. Those stories are for next time though. Just a reminder: don’t let you life become a Roman ruin before you decide to enjoy it, and spend some time in a blue city, they’re great!
