Showing posts with label Fez. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fez. Show all posts

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Lost in the Medina at Fez

Lost in the Medina at Fez...

Where the locals do their everyday shopping...

We passed the Sidi Ahmed Tijani Mosque...


and the 9th century Kairaouine Library with an old man selling second hand shoes and what appeared to be comic books based on the Koran (so much for the prohibition against the depiction of the human form).


We recharged our tired, old legs in a little, hole-in-the-wall cafe...


Moroccan "nus-nus" (strong, cafe latte) accompanied by sweets filled with coconut, date, cashews and coated in chocolate. Can anyone beat the Morrocans at cake making? I suspect not.


At the meat market there is all manner of flesh, fish and foul on sale - including tortoises and snails.

Obviously hard to move this line of padlock- they seem to have been sitting there for centuries?

Around Place Seffarine the metalworkers hammer away...


...and stop to chat with neighbours and passersby.


 Horses, donkeys and miles are still a handy form of transport for lugging merchandise along the narrow lane ways.

Sensory overload. 

We make our way out onto the Place Er R'Cif...

...and back to the hotel in a Petit Taxi (exhausted).

What a maze! 

What a city!

 

Friday, January 10, 2014

Fez

"...the populace closes in again, so quickly and densely that it seems impossible it could ever have been parted, and negro water-carriers, muffled women, beggars streaming with sores, sinewy and greasy "saints," Soudanese sorcerers hung with amulets made of sardine-boxes and hares'-feet, long-lashed boys of the Chleuh in clean embroidered caftans, Jews in black robes and skull-caps, university students carrying their prayer-carpets, bangled and spangled black women, scrofulous children with gazelle eyes and mangy skulls, and blind men tapping along with linked arms and howling out verses of the Koran, surge together in a mass drawn by irresistible suction to the point where the bazaars converge..."

Excerpt from: Wharton, Edith. “In Morocco” (1920)

You learn to escape to the edges of the city's madness - onto the rooftops and outside the city walls to get a more balanced view of this huge, blaring, brilliant place. Fez is every bit as frantic as Marrakesh, although I suspect this has always been the case- tourism is just one of its business concerns. Fez caters overwhelmingly to its own people.

There are peaceful spots - the dazzling archways of the Batha Palace...

with its Andalusian garden full of Seville orange trees...


...the Jnane S'bile park with its lake and towering palms...

...the ancient waterwheel on the rippling Oued Fez...

...the terrace of the mysterious clock tower which looks out over the pretty, green minerat of the Bou Inania mosque.

Its medersa (Koranic school) ...

 

...contains beautifully crafted grills, wooden corbels, intricately worked doors and impressive zelij tile work.

Edith Wharton's descriptions of the crowds are typical of her time - resorting to exoticism and stereotype to describe Morocco's various social groups. Her descriptions make me smirk, however, as they do manage to capture the actual madness and colour of the crowds. There are a fascinating array of people, wired and wonderful things to see.
 
And exquisite workmanship to be observed on almost every street corner...
And as always, more irresistible, feline photographic subjects. A mother and baby make use of a makeshift bed of old zippers, and off cuts outside a tailor's shop...