Frenetic Fes

fes morocco fez maroc

I expected to like Fes more than I did. But honestly, it felt like a dirty maze where most everyone was out to scam you.

The fortressed walls don’t help make the medina feel like a particularly safe or comfortable place—that’s not to say that I felt unsafe or uncomfortable—but never particularly at ease either. (And maybe that’s necessary when traveling—never letting your guard down.) Some of the walkways are completely devoid of light even in the middle of the day because they are boarded overhead. Others are only wide enough to allow for one person at a time, forcing oncoming foot traffic down into doorways to let you pass by.

fes morocco fez maroc

fes morocco fez maroc

On one of my days, I took a city guide around, hoping to see the Fes that I was perhaps not brave enough to venture out into alone (mainly because there are over 9700 streets in Fes and I get lost in train stations). While I ended up seeing a side of Fes that most tourists probably don’t see (the guide specifically avoided the tourist track, saying I could explore that on my own later if I was so inclined), it was once again sensory overload—so many colors, sounds, smells (good and bad), people brushing up against me, and the guide telling me to mind my things, carts, and donkeys whizzing by—it was really difficult to absorb everything that was happening.

fes morocco fez maroc

fes morocco fez maroc

The local marketplace was not only the most chaotic part, but also the part that was most reminiscent of the Morocco that I built up in my mind prior to my trip. And thankfully, the exposure to the chaos in Tangier had me somewhat prepared for Fes. While the marketplace was overwhelming, it was also the most interesting part of Fes. Around every turn you’d see carts piled high with vibrant fruits, vegetables, nuts, and sweets; butcher shops with cages upon cages of live chickens fluttering–feathers flying everywhere–and squawking; men touting their wares, promising you a good deal on everything imaginable; the call to prayer reverberating through tight spaces while people hurriedly ran to mosques through the most unassuming doorways.

fes morocco fez maroc

fes morocco fez maroc

After the marketplace, I was eager to see the leather tanneries that I’d heard so much about prior to my trip. Fes is known for its leather-making and the techniques used are over nine centuries old. When I first arrived, eager to see the stone vats and workers softening and dying the hides, I was warned by the purveyor that the stench was likely strong enough to knock me over. Before we headed up to the rooftop to see what I’d ventured there for, he handed me a bundle of mint and suggested I keep it in front of my nose the entire time. Curiosity almost always prevails for me and I pulled the mint away only to catch a whiff of perhaps the most disgusting thing I’d ever smelled. He told me that the leather was softened in pigeon poop–thus the rancid smell. (The more you know!)

fes morocco fez maroc

While I was happy to have experienced Fes and had an overall decent time (much better than in Tangier!), I still wasn’t as taken with it as I had been with Chefchaouen. I was eager to head to Marrakech–the city I’d most been looking forward to on the trip. I’d probably go back to Fes, but perhaps I’d stay outside the medina and only go in for shorter stints of time.

fes morocco fez maroc

Author: Megan

Megan is an ordinary girl who outgrew her small town and decided to try the world on for size. She's on a mission to travel, photograph, and write about the world.

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