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Purple Tree
These trees are very common throughout town, usually fairly tall. Shéma, my younger host sister, and I bonded through Shakira one night. Shakira was giving a concert in Rabat, televised live throughout the country. By the end of ‘Waka waka,’ Shéma and I were ready to spend the afternoon together the next day. Shakira is attractive in many ways, and similar to my neighbor Imelda in Benin, Shéma is fascinated with her appeal –as am I.
Shéma’s friend Sarah met us at the door the next afternoon. My first indication of a tour of Fez more than I had expected was our stop at the second hand market. Sarah was looking for a large bag. We searched unsuccessfully, followed the talâa saghira –small street –and continued to stop at every shop that promised bags –no buy.
Sarah left us when Shéma stopped for internet. I thought that Sarah had returned to a shop to negotiate because I had mentioned that my foreign self might handicap her bargaining. Shéma stayed an hour at internet, to watch Shakira videos and create an email account and play spider solitaire. I was willing to wait for quite a while, but after an hour when Sarah had not returned, my American-self
A View of Fez
This from the roof of the house where I live. There are wide views of the city in every direction. became kind of impatient. I was worried that I wouldn’t get to where I had hoped to go that evening. We left internet; as soon as we stopped for postcards, Sarah caught up to us. She had returned home to change clothes for the tour of Fez. Immediately, my international-self recognized my impatience –sorry Sarah. Waiting an hour at internet was the smallest of diversions I could have allowed in order to have the tour those two girls gave me.
Karaouine, my destination, was a bit anticlimactic. It is a holy place, and as such does not allow non-Muslim foreigners to enter. Given the number of this type of tourist I have seen in Fez so far, I am not surprised. Morocco has the air of the exotic, and tourists would likely disrespect, possibly unknowingly, the Muslim religion. (I witnessed one tourist filming a man doing ablutions before prayer –this is a little ridiculous, according to me. I wouldn’t want people to film me getting ready for church.) In any case, I was allowed to stand at the doorway and peek inside, as well as take a couple of photos. A man watching the door directed me to
In the Medina
This is the door and road past the mosque. a photo opportunity behind him, but when I mentioned that he would be in the photo too, due to the angle, he offered to take the photo for me.
The tour with the girls protected me from ‘tour guides’ who speak all languages other than Arabic enough to insist on guiding. I can hear the offers in English, French, Spanish, et cetera, all while ignoring them. Shéma insisted that I walk between her and Sarah, although just as often the two girls had to catch up to each other to giggle and whisper about something. It was a constant back and forth, but I was able to see much more than I would have by myself because I was walking slowly behind them. Sarah and Shéma also served as excellent translators, and not just for language. They lead me everywhere and knew where I could enter and where to peek, and where to take photos. My evident companionship with them I believe also endeared me to the Fassis, although most vendors and shoppers seemed to be kind nonetheless. The girls indicated which snacks were the best and helped me buy some: dates, figs, almonds, and walnuts mixed in
Green
The minaret of the mosque is decorated with beautiful green tiles. a paper bag, as well as taste-tests of apricot pastry and a type of apple-texture like olive, and other goodies. They even treated me to ice cream.
Of course, this was largely but not entirely altruistic on their part. I realized quickly that my foreign-self was an ideal excuse to enter shops that two young girls would otherwise have no business entering.
“Erika, would you like to look in this shop?” (full of richly colored cloths and intricately decorated traditional clothes) from Shéma.
“Sure.”
“Erika, would you like to look in this shop?” (full of woven tablecloths and silver tableware) from Shéma.
“Um, well, I suppose I could…”
“Erika, would you like to look in this shop?” (full of gold jewelry as big as my hand) from Sarah.
“Uh, I don’t think I can afford…” (looks of eager anticipation to enter) “… sure, yes, I would like to look.”
Thus I shopped a lot for clothes, shoes, material, tourist goodies like Moroccan cloths, leathers, instruments, and metal works like jewelry and tableware. I also served as chaperon, or at least an excuse again, to stay out late. I enjoyed their bubbling
Doors
These are the lamp posts above the doors to the mosque. enthusiasm.
However, there were a couple of moments when both girls were a little over-eager for my comfort. Sarah wanted to introduce me to her father and ask for some pocket money for our tour. As soon as she knocked on the door, both girls stepped to the side and left me standing to face the surprised man. “Uh, salaam alayka…” I said. Most certainly a kind man, he was a bit put out that his daughter didn’t care to introduce me properly. I was a bit put out, too. Shéma, also, insisted on visiting another of her American friends. The other American and I chatted for a bit about school and Fez. Shéma asked as we left if I knew the other girl –no, Shéma, I don’t know every other American currently studying in Morocco…
We returned home after a long, slow walk through Fez Jadeed, another section of Fez filled with souks (markets) and smells and food. We taste tested a few things, and contemplated some nail polish colors. There weren’t the same quality of shops as in the old city, so we just walked and talked and looked. By 10:30pm, we had returned
Sign Post
If anyone is up for reading Arabic or French, more information is available about the mosque here. home, in time for dinner after the final call to prayer of the day. (Lunch is at 2pm.) I cannot say that I know my way around Fez, but I have a pretty good idea. I am becoming more comfortable in my surrounding –I have left-off wearing the scarf over my hair; rather, around my shoulders and collar. I walk to class and stop for orange occasionally. Eventually, I might be able to say that I know Fez.
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Nettie
non-member comment
Reminds me of my honeymoon in Casblanca, Marrakech and down into the Atlas mountains. I just love the tile work. Big points for patience with the girls, Erika!