I certainly hope that this instalment finds you at least as well if not better than the last and if you have had both the time and inclination to read part 1 in its entirety you are ready for the story to continue. Of course if you are not ready then I am not too sure what to suggest as the story will continue here regardless - I'll leave you to worry about that. So without any further ado I shall get on with it.
I left off last time with my return to a hot and noisy hotel room to try and get some sleep before an early start the next morning. Phillipe and I had no difficulty waking up as the noise from the road outside had started up pretty early (about 5am I think) and we went down to have our bread breakfast where we met a few of the others. It seems that not everyone had the same trouble staying asleep. Those of us raring to go formed the advanced party which consisted of Beth and Stuart (a British couple), Allie (also British), Phillipe and myself. We were headed back to the Medina to explore the souqs which meant repeating the journey of the night before, only this time in the day which I think actually made crossing the roads worse. That said we did again manage to remain unharmed - a further testament to the system. After some initial difficulty locating an entrance to the souqs we crossed a large square and at one corner of this we found the narrow passageway we needed. Once inside however we were not met with the sight we had all been expecting, as rather than bustling market streets stacked from floor to ceiling with every kind of goods known to man we were instead stood almost alone on empty streets. We were in the right place as both sides of the endless winding passageways were lined with heavily bolted and padlocked doors behind which were the shallow rooms that formed the shop/stall type things that the locals traded from. We wandered aimlessly for a while until having double backed a local sitting in front of his closed shop informed us that things would be opening up at about 9:30. This was all rather odd as we had been told that the place would be buzzing with activity by the time we got there. Graham later speculated that the recent hot weather may be behind the late start but this seemed back to front to me seeing as the early morning would be cooler. So far on this particular morning it was already 35C inside the shade of the souq and it was still only just after 9am. It was set to get a fair bit hotter yet.
We continued to explore to pass the time while we waited for them to set out their wares and it was actually quite cool to see the place transform and come to life. The various traders tend to specialise in a particular type of merchandise and these folk have collected themselves together forming distinct areas. The first of these we came to as we wandered was a textile souq where all manner of traditional materials and some clothing was sold. One man tried to interest me in a jellaba which is a long traditional cotton garment worn by many of the men (somewhat resembling an old fashioned night shirt without a collar) but I wasn't too tempted. Later we stumbled upon the jewellery souq where there was a splendid array of handcrafted trinkets and some more substantial items which looked to me like they could be elephant bracelets, not that elephants are native to the region. From here we ventured out of the covered part of the souqs and into the surrounding streets where just as much buying and selling was happening. As we passed out into the sun the heat hit us, it had climbed up to 42C inside and out here it was a rather wearying 46C. It seemed somehow even busier and more chaotic out here perhaps as some of these streets carried traffic as well as people and animals. We passed mainly fruit and veg stalls for a while and then came into an area where fly trodden meat was slowly spoiling in the sun, chickens were being picked out by customers and slaughtered on the street but the worst bit for me was the smell of the 'fresh' fish - no fridges no ice no nothing. Just before we headed back the women in our little group wanted to see the spice area which whilst smelling significantly better than the fish was a poor example compared to what we would see later in the trip. By this time we had been wandering about for several hours and now came the task of retracing our steps to try and get back to the main streets. Graham had told us that if completely lost we could employ a small boy to guide us back (an accepted practice) but we thought we could manage it unaided. We did pretty well until we got back to the part nearest the beginning as it was far harder to find our way back now that everything looked different. Fortunately just as I (who was in front at this instant) realised I had run out of good ideas a local man sat next to his stall spoke to us and to my surprise it was the same fellow who had helped us out that morning. Apparently we were stood right next to the way out and from here it was just a very hot walk back to the hotel to meet the others for lunch.
Having found some of the others and lunched in the restaurant attached to the bar we had been in the night before we packed our things back onto the bus to leave Meknes behind. That night we would be staying in Fez but long before then we were to visit more Roman ruins just a short distance from Meknes. These ruins were called (and therefore at) Volubilis and they are the largest and best preserved Roman ruins in Morocco. It may seem a little odd that so many Roman things keep cropping up on a trip around north-west Africa but it should not be forgotten that the Roman empire was once mighty and more significantly, far reaching. During Volubilis's hay day it was under strict control from Rome and was required to produce the things that were needed by the empire which meant that the region was largely deforested for the farming of wheat. The implication of this for us was a significant lack of shade on what unbeknownst to us at the time was to be one of the hottest days of the trip. Arriving at the site we met Rashide our local guide, he was an entertaining and animated young Moroccan who would doubtless have been positively effervescent on a cooler day. The tour began by walking to the top of the only hillock for miles to view what was a substantial area of excavated ruins. I have to say I was actually very impressed having always liked classical history from my school days. In the past I have visited a fair number of Roman ruins of varying sizes and qualities but nothing like this, it was the first time I had seen what was essentially a whole town laid out just as it had been. Of course parts of it had been reconstructed as the place had been buried for some time and there remains buried an area of the city as large as that we could see. We walked down the main road past what would once have been shop fronts and were guided past some of the great houses which were now only mosaic floors and low walls. At about this point a couple of our group elected that to avoid falling down on the spot from the heat they would go back to the café at the main gate to sit in the shade. Not only could no one blame them for this but I for one was tempted to join them, this was definitely the highest temperature I have ever experienced. The whole site was an exposed sun trap and there wasn't the slightest breath of wind. After less than twenty minutes out there I had got through over a litre of water and the only thing stopping me from drinking the rest was the fact that it was by then so hot that you could have made tea with it. On account of this I think Rashide decided to give us the highlights only version of the tour taking in the best of the mosaics, the huge Triumphal Arch, the 'capitol' with its Corinthian columns and assorted points of interest such as a brothel and the vomitorium. There was still a great deal of the site to wander round which on a different day I would have liked to do but this just wasn't the day for it. So we all went back for ice lollies before getting back onto the bus (which was still 46C inside) where I zonked out for most of the 2-3 hour journey through to Fez.
Our hotel in Fez was probably the most swish place we stayed in. It had an expensively mosaic tiled bar (for the enjoyment of frosties) and after the days high temperatures I wasn't too sorry to discover air-con in the rooms. The restaurant we went to in Fez that night was also rather nice and I certainly couldn't complain about the food, although lamb with prunes isn't something I have seen on a menu before. Afterwards, having returned to the hotel I walked back in to my room to find it positively cool, although the temperature had only been reduced to 27C which would be an unlikely temperature for the height of summer back home - everything's relative. Next morning our swish hotel didn't disappoint us with a run of the mill breakfast, oh no, we didn't just get bread, butter, jam and coffee, we also got orange juice, pancakes and croissants. One minor niggle with this Muslim country business was a lack of pig products, most specifically bacon, and sausages of any description were only seen once so I suppose breakfast was always going to be missing something.
Our day in Fez got started with a visit to some palace gates followed by a little walk through the surrounding streets which for some reason (perhaps the heat affected my memory) I can't seem to remember anything specific about it, such as where we were or why. Next we drove up to the top of a hill where an old kasbah was being restored which was of no significance as what we had come to look at was the view. From our vantage point we could look down over all of Fez and if you have ever seen the film Labyrinth you may have some idea what we could see. Fez is the oldest of the imperial cities and the medina of 'Old Fez' is one of the largest living medieval cities in the world. We would be spending much of the day inside but not without an experienced local guide as this place was not only huge it was also quite literally uncharted, it wasn't so much an urban jungle as an urban wilderness. Anyway, I am getting ahead of myself, having viewed the city from above it was time to get back down into it but before we did we stopped off at a pottery / tile factory. Well, I say factory but it was more a collection of craftsmen all working on similar things. Here as well as making many types of crockery they also made the tiles used in the traditional mosaics. The tiles were fired and then glazed as you would expect but in order to make each of the much tinier parts of the mosaic the larger bits of tile were hand chipped to shape one by one; I don't know how I thought they were made but it wasn't like this. On a day like today though a far worse job must have been dealing with the furnaces used for the firing and glazing as it was already 35C and like the day before it wasn't about to get any cooler. Fortunately for us we were soon to enter the shade of the medina which was in many ways similar to the medina in Meknes. There were miles of narrow streets with hundreds of small shops lining them and of course thousands of people. The biggest difference from the medina in Meknes was the scale of the place, we certainly weren't going to be allowed to wander about on our own, in fact we had been given a stern (as stern as Graham could be) talking to the night before explaining the procedure if anyone got separated from the group. This wasn't the only warning we got as another feature of the place is that whilst there is no motorised transport inside it is still necessary to transport goods around and for this donkeys (& mules?) are used. To give these beasts of burden decent grip on the sloping cobbled streets they had rubber shoes on which meant they could run up behind you without you hearing them. To prevent excessive collisions whilst not impeding the flow of goods the man in charge of the animal would shout out warnings (often in a variety of languages) at which point anyone not wishing to get run over had to flatten against a wall (and breathe in) to let them past - their right of way was indisputable. A further difference was the greater variety of 'places' in there, it wasn't just shops, there were mosques, bakeries, workshops, a university, restaurants and many things besides. One street we passed down was busy in the construction of highly decorated wedding chairs (kind of thrones) made of wood and covered in highly polished silver and gold coloured metals, this area smelled rather of solvents and it made me wonder if the whole of Fez wasn't a fire hazard (not unlike medieval London). From here we continued to weave our way through streets of which any map they ever managed to produce would surely look like a child's drawing of a spider web.
After a fair trek we headed away from the main shopping area down some even narrower streets, through a narrow doorway and up some steep stairs. As we arrived at the top we were handed a sprig of mint to hold under our noses should the ambient smell make us feel too sick. We had been brought to see a tannery and were led to a balcony overlooking an array of deep pits made of mud brick and tile. A large section of these were pure white whilst the rest were full of dyes of red, brown, yellow and muddy greens. There were men wandering between the pits and some in them hauling huge bundles of soaking stinking leather about. There was a good reason why this place stank, some of the traditional ingredients used in the dye included pigeon droppings, cow urine and animal brains and all of it out in the baking hot sun - lovely, and just before lunch too. For all this stink and the obvious health issues a job like this could involve it was apparently a prized form of employment handed down through families, presumably because it was better paid than most. Having had all this explained to us by one of the tannery folk I would have expected pretty much everyone in the group to be about ready to say 'been there, done that, lets get some fresh air', but apparently the need to shop can override both good sense and maybe even your sense of smell. Another reason for wanting to get out of there quickly was that next stop was lunch. Our back street restaurant was rather groovy, we all sat around the edge of a long thin room on very low sofa type things and nibbled the bread on the tables, apart from Phillipe who by this time was so sick of bread he refused to eat it. The variation on a theme I enjoyed on this occasion was another tajine known this time as a kefta mqawara which contained tomato and meatballs with an egg chucked on top at the end for good measure. I am pleased to report that the smell of the tannery was soon forgotten and no reduction in anyone's appetite was observed. We were sprayed with rose water as we left (mostly just our hands) which is something I didn't quite understand, I don't think it can be a tradition as it didn't happen anywhere else. Back outside the streets somehow kept getting narrower and then lower too and after stooping through a particularly short doorway we arrived in a sort of courtyard around which were a number of folk working away at looms. We had the obligatory talk about what they were doing and then the opportunity to buy stuff. An opportunity that, like all the others we'd had, was not missed by the shopaholic faction of the group. Whilst they pawed over the goods and haggled over the prices I stood and glanced about this ancient and decrepit place, they say that Fez is falling to bits and there is certainly evidence that they might be right. High up on a dead grape vine that clung to a column there were some shrivelled old grapes that looked as if they would crumble to dust if you touched them; routine maintenance (or even spring cleaning) certainly wasn't part of the culture here. The temperature had definitely been rising and even in the shade of the workshop I was starting to sweat. From here we wove our way out the other side back into the sun where it was now 44C to wait for our bus to turn up. We had been in the medina for hours spending much of our time walking at the only pace you can in there and we had only really cut across a corner of it, there must have been a square kilometre or two that we didn't get close to. My overall impression of Old Fez was one of some amazement at the fact that this place not only still existed (despite the need for repair) but also continued to operate, it wasn't a museum or a reconstruction it was a living breathing medieval city. Its a bit like a dinosaur that just keeps dodging death and defying extinction, but for all that is showing its age. I hope it does survive and without becoming a theme park for tourists so that more people can experience this smelly, bustling, confusing, slightly hazardous and occasionally claustrophobic place, so if your ever passing I suggest you drop in.
That night after recovering from the days exertions we had free choice of where we went for dinner. I decided to tag along with those heading only about a hundred meters from our hotel to a far less swish establishment than the night before. Welcome to the less complicated world of the late night café with its large display case front windows, harsh strip lighting and plastic (wipe clean) table cloths. Not your usual (and oh so predictable) tourist restaurant, it was nice to eat in a place that at least some ordinary Moroccans could afford to eat in too. I had the 'House Brochettes' which basically consisted of a few chicken and beef kebabs (on flimsy and slightly sharp edged metal skewers) with some pre-cooked vegetables some of which seemed to be covered in a kind of garlic grit. Apart from the excessive garlic it was all very excellent (and massively cheaper that the tourist trap we were in last night), it was also unusual that the woman serving the food (and possibly running the place) was dressed in very western clothes; not a common sight. Back at the hotel we passed the prostitutes in the lobby (taking some of the shine off the place) and headed to the bar for a 'frostie' before bed but perhaps fortunately the house musician started up on his three keyboards which he played very loudly through a sound system that crackled just as loudly, well at least it made me get an early night.
The next morning started at 6am and Phillipe and I managed to get to breakfast before they had even set most of it out. Today was to be one of the longest travel days but would include a number of stops to break up the 9-10 hour journey away from the high population density cities we had seen so far toward the ultimate contrast. We would be going almost due south all day and therefore would be crossing the Middle and High Atlas ranges of mountains which cover most of the country. One of the stops was at a place called Tamedhet where the weekly market was in full swing. This market was split into two basic sections with section one being livestock and the second section being full of (in my opinion) junk. The livestock bit was exactly as you would expect but the other bit was more like a car boot sale, it seemed to me that all the things in the world that no one wanted anymore were here but it wasn't all in a muddle, it had been sorted out and different traders had different specialities. One guy only sold odd shoes (that is to say not 'pairs' of shoes just one or the other) and another man had a pile of rusty old hinges. There were some things that resembled shackles and old false teeth and bits of machinery and some tufty lengths of coloured synthetic string like materiel. There were some more expectable things on sale too but the locals seemed to be showing just as much interest in the oddments. Incidentally I think this may be one of the only shopping opportunities where no one actually bought anything, but I might be wrong; actually I probably am. As we set off again it was fairly overcast and the temperature stabilised at a refreshing 36C which lasted for most of the day. The landscape at this stage was fairly uninteresting with nothing much growing and lots of dusty yellow featureless land. Lunch was at a kasbah styled place in the middle of nowhere. It was medium swish and served a decent tajine but the dessert of sliced oranges sprinkled with cinnamon was a bit odd (and a bit chewy). They let themselves down a bit with the entertainment though as the resident musician was playing some sort of guitar which looked like I had been home made from a wooden box and a broom handle with a few bits of string loosely stretched down its length. The only good thing about it was that perhaps due to its poor construction it didn't make a very loud sound. Continuing on we passed (in no particular order) a small section of cedar forest where we were very lucky to see the barbary apes that live in it frolicking about in sight of the road. We passed through the crudely carved and rather short 'Tunnel du Legionnaire' which was once of such strategic military significance that it is still guarded to this day. I suspect however it is used as a punishment for soldiers as standing out in the sun all day next to a tunnel in the middle of nowhere can't be much fun. By this stage the terrain had become much more mountainous although they weren't exactly the soaring up into the clouds type of mountains but from a geological standpoint they did display some clear sedimentary rock features.
This may seem a slightly odd cutting off point for this issue but cut it off I shall otherwise this is going to get far too long. As you doubtless realise (or already know) this isn't by any means the end of the story so I hope to see you all back here for part three. TTFN.
David.