Walking Home

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The billboard on the city walls pronounces ‘Live the Music!’ for the sacred music festival in Fez. Although no human musicians are performing on the stage, Fez is pretty good at producing a musical ambience in the absence of guitars or sitars or lutes. The music that I hear comes from the Alpine swifts that fill the air and swoop into their notches in the ancient city walls, slots that were created with the birds in mind, the Arabic of students on break from classes, and the general impression of living in a very historical place.

On my walk home from school I pass through three different sections of Fez. School is in the Ville Nouvelle, the colonial French-built new city, best defined as a suburb whose population now exceeds its source. As I leave the school, I pass McDonalds and cross to the other side of the fountain, walking along the Champs Elysees-esque four-lane road with flowers and fountains along the median. The sidewalks at the intersection are lined with cafés, then the concentration of people and businesses at the intersection thin out. As I approach the second fountain on this thoroughfare, my view of the king’s palace improves. The chandeliers suspended above the street contribute to the coming grandeur. The palace is impressive for its beautiful gardens and lawns that lay beside a wide sidewalk approach to the massive brass doors, set back at least 100 meters from the road –a king’s entrance. I pass to the right of the palatial residence, entering the Jewish quarters that indicate the second section of Fez, called Fez Djadid.

Fez Djadid, or New Fez, is so called due to the second round of development in the area by the Merenids in year 1248. The population expanded at that time with the arrival of Andalucian refugees from Spain. The Jewish quarters no longer necessarily house Jews, who emigrated with the end of French rule (history thanks to Rough Guides guide book). The area is notable because of the different architecture, with balconies that face the streets rather than interior-facing homes. Past the Jewish quarters, I enter the main street of Fez Djadid through the imposing bab, or door, of the city’s walls. Shops and vendor stalls line both sides of the streets, and although most traffic is by foot, some motorcycles and a very occasional vehicle demand space. The human forms that fill Fez Djadid are in constant motion –some sell while others advertise, mannequins hanging from hooks displaying intricately decorated traditional clothing called jalabas and kaftans. Western-style shoes, bags, clothes, scarves, and house- and bathware occupy many of the shoppers. Popcorn men, ice cream stands, cafés, and holowiat, or sweets, are sold intermixed with the fashion and material goods.
I follow a calm and spacious street between the Fez Djadid market Bab Boujeloud, one door of many that leads to the old city. A walled, secluded garden as old as the city is accessed through wrought iron gates. Cobble paths clear the way beneath a variety of trees –orange, evergreen, date palm, bamboo, and eucalyptus –and beside roses and lilies and pansies. Water flows in natural and artificial waterways, eventually arriving at a sizeable pond, all the while providing space for egrets, storks, ducks, and other birds (and fish).

My preferred wide-open space in Fez is the common area between the gardens and Bab Boujeloud because it provides a bit of breathing room that a Westerner, and especially a Kansan like myself, truly appreciates for the view of the horizon. A stage for the annual sacred music festival currently demands the most attention. As I walk through, I instead look left, where I see the line of the city’s walls and above it, the other half of Fez on the hillside. Homes and mosques occupy every inch of the ground, while the Alpine swifts are so gregarious that the likelihood of being bird-pooped alone is enough reason to wear a head scarf –I’ve been bird-pooped, and wished for a scarf. The evening air that flows from the countryside cools the city, and people and birds alike take time to enjoy it.

Bab Boujeloud is a magnificent entrance to the old medina, or city, of Fez. Facing out, the bab’s design is colored in blue, the traditional color of Fez, with green facing the interior. I pass through the doors so often that I have to remind myself to look up and appreciate the history of my current residence. Beyond that bab, the architecture dominates any other view of the outside world and I have only to contemplate the many stimuli that surround me. I wend my way through vendors, restaurants, and people while glancing ahead and up. Everyday business and preoccupations flow banally past structures and buildings built nearly one thousand years ago, and I risk remaining ignorant of their significance. Once past the initial touristy restaurants, I enter the food market, where I gauge my breath according to the initial scent. Sometimes I breathe deeply, filling my lungs with mint, fresh bread, hot spiced meat, and other herbs and fruits; at other times, very slowly, and desperately, I exhale, avoiding perhaps the scent of rejected fruits or chicken waste. I consider, everyday, the goods at the vendor’s stalls: patterned pottery, jewelry, cedar boxes, leather bags, tea pots, and others. Most often, I stop for fresh squeezed orange juice.

The foot traffic flows opposite vehicle –pass on the left, or whichever way seems most convenient. And people who walk the slowest are sure to be found in the middle, along with the donkeys and horses loaded with work, and pushcarts that pick up where work animals leave off. After about 200 meters along this road, I turn left to my host family’s home along a little ‘darb,’ or path, out of the way of the flow of traffic.
The home is a refuge of the hustle and bustle, though I can easily remind myself of the city by taking the stairs all the way up and looking out on the city. Usually, though, I arrive home in time for tea, much appreciated after the long but curious walk home. I enter and greet Maman, her sisters, and her daughters –“salaam alaykum,” peace be upon you, and am equally greeted –“wa alaykum salaam.” Yes, yes, I think sugary sweet, hot, minty tea and a warm welcome is a very good means to peace.

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Photos

Friends!
Another good view of old Fez from the terrace of a hotel in the new part of Fez, the Nouvelle Ville. I met up with some people from KU, and was unprepared for this photo.

A King's Entrance
Behind us you can see the entrance to to the king's palace. He doesn't reside here, it's just a home for when he's in town.

Friends!
On our way to lunch in Old Fez.

Melleh
The 'Melleh' is the name for the Jewish quarter, distinguished by this type of balcony in the picture.

Bab
The door to Fez Djadid.

Fez Djadid
Some of the many human forms I pass by are in this photo.

Bab Boujeloud Gardens
The refuge of peace (when teenage boys are otherwise preoccupied) along the calm street between Fez Djadid and Bab Boujeloud, Old Fez.

A View of the Horizon
In the common space before Bab Boujeloud, where I can appreciate the horizon and hopefully avoid getting Alpine swift poop on my head.

Horizon
This view from the roof -you can see a couple of minarets of some mosques nearby.

Old Fez Street
This picture is in the morning, before 8am, on my way to class (before 8am... ugh...). On my return, I can't follow a straight path due to the vendors and shoppers that have since started their day.

Old Fez Street
This is a one-way street whenever two people happen upon it going opposite directions. Donkeys have to go around the long way.

Salaam!
On the roof with Maman and Shema, my younger of two host sisters. We had tea here.

Fruit for every Creature
During class one day a student noticed this rodent in the date palm tree outside our window. Dates are mighty tasty around here.

Comments

[Nancy]

yay!
I love the Pics! It looks very clean. I'm so glad you have made friends. Everything looks beautiful. I started to get hungry when I was reading about the market.