Well, it has felt like forever coming around, but finally, over much last minute hammering and tidying away, we had people to visit the home we are so proud of. Both Nick’s and my mum were brave enough to pay us a visit. Unlike most mothers in law who don't know each other before their children get together, our mums have already travelled together and often catch up over coffee in our absence. Not the usual situation for most families, but then again very little is normal about my family and its set up.
Hoping for the best of what autumnal Morocco could show we were relieved when we checked and saw the weather would be fine. Not sure who wrote that forecast but they need to find themselves a job that they are more proficient at. It was blustery, cloudy and cold when we went to pick them up from the airport late on Thursday night and was only to get worse over thr course of the weekend. We were keen to be there on time to hopefully relieve some of the stress of arriving in Fes that we were greeted with when we arrived. The airport is okay, but you go from a chaotic flight (even by Ryanair’s standards) to an even more chaotic and cramped arrival lounge with suspicious customs men. To be fair they were far less suspicious of our mums than they were of us. Perhaps that had something to do with the fact that we were bringing an oversized odd shaped bag in and trying to get them to believe it was a snowboard when it was 40 degrees C outside.
Once through and safely ensconced in the car you would expect the worst to be over. Not in Fes. Blessed with not only some of the worst drivers on the road and the worst lit highways you have ever seen, or not seen as the case may be, Fes also has some of the most Kamikaze like pedestrians I have ever encountered. Wearing only black these suicidal people of all genders and ages wander aimlessly along the road with little regard for potential loss of life. They find the darkest spots or the least visible corners and decide that this is the perfect place to cross the road. Without street lights, cats eyes, road markings or moon, you only see people at the very last minute. This was not the best first impressions to present proudly to our mums.
Now, we were fully aware of the fear that this and the general chaos that usually ensues when navigating around Fes would cause to an unfamiliar driver who is accustomed to the relative order of the roads in the UK, outside of London at least. It was for this reason that we decided to head down to Fes early in our hire car and do a trial run to make sure we knew the route and could instil our guests with confidence that we were in control. Within five minutes we were lost. Within ten minutes we were completely lost, and within fifteen we were so lost I couldn’t even tell which way was north. This is about as lost as I’ve ever been and reduced me to near panic attack. People were everywhere, kids were rolling tyres down the middle of the road and we were surrounded by crazy drivers. What was worse was that finding an approachable looking person to ask directions from in a dark and run-down suburb on the edge of Fes took a bit of time and nerve. Eventually we were heading back to the airport and deciding to stick with what we knew… a route that we had found on our previous attempt to get around the city when we got very lost. Following maps here is a nightmare, they have so many new roads that are not on the map that you are instantly lost.
Thankfully we got our guests to the medina without too many wrong turns. Sadly this was not the end of our woes and our failings in presenting the best of life here. As with most riads, ours was one that was somewhere inside the medina. The Fes medina is home to around 350,000 people and is the largest car free zone in the world. It is a veritable warren of streets and houses. For those who were not born, raised and learnt the hard way how to get around, it is impossible to navigate, especially with two mums and wheely bags. Knowing this we had come prepared and had a telephone number for the riad. We parked up at the gate and called to have someone come out and get us. This plan didn’t quite work out. Nick was quickly told in aggressive broken French-Arabic that our booking wasn’t for that night but the one before and the day after. The kind man then hung up on Nick leaving him rather stressed and me trying reassure our increasingly concerned guests that all would be fine. At this point our solution arrived (as it always does in Africa), in the shape of a young man who for a not so small fee ran in front of our car to find us a safe place to park and then took Nick off in search of the riad. Nick was met there by a friendly young woman with perfect English who had been worried we’d gotten lost. Thankfully all was fine. We still have no idea who we phoned.
Thankfully, when there, Riad 53 was everything we had hoped
http://www.fes-ryad53.com/ . Three stories high surrounding a central blue tiled courtyard, it had enough ancient features to go with the ‘mod’est of mod cons. We even had sensor light switches. We arrived late and the table was set waiting with a small mince tagine and lots of warm fresh bread. Sadly they later tried to charge us 40 Euros for this small tagine. It should have only cost about 10. it was good, but not that good.
Next day we were up fresh and sprightly for our morning tour of the medina. Nick and I had explored once on our own but had been so terrified of getting lost that we barely ventured off the main route. This time we wanted to do it properly with a guide. Whereever you go in the medina you are likely to be followed, called out to or harassed by young men helpfully trying to show you the way or act as an 'unofficial' guide. Needless to say they still want official payment. Following the advice of many we hired an ‘official’ guide. He arrived impeccably dressed and was incredibly well spoken. Neither Nick nor I are one for tours and find we quickly get bored. This gentleman gave us the perfect balance of walk and talk, providing us with just the right amount of information. The walls of the Medina are from the 9th Century. Most of the rest of it from the 12th. What is called ‘New Fes’ was added on during the 13th Century. It really is ancient. The oldest university in the world is in the middle and is today still used as a mosque. We toured around one old Islamic school with most of its original tile work and beams. Having spent so much time looking at the mosaic walls and thinking ‘my, aren’t they pretty’, we were astounded to find out the every part means something. From the base layer signifying the first level of schooling to university and further enlightenment of prayer, the walls are covered with representations that have lasted the test of time. Some of the most detailed work that has lasted is made from gypsum and egg white. Not something you would think would stand last the ages.
Having a tour guide was really worthwhile. We wound our way along narrow alleys, past traditional bath houses and even under some buildings along a path 4 feet high. Every so often you pass a leather tannery. You can’t see these places from outside but you can smell them a mile off. During the treatment of all the hide, which is pungent in itself, guano is used. When visiting a tannery you are provided with a sprig of mint to hold under your nose while you view the treatment pots from overlooking terraces high above. When walking near one of these places you are hit with such an onslaught of smell that you struggle to breathe until you remember to breathe through your mouth. It is a smell that seems to permeate the hair, clothes and skin. That’ll be that dreaded Bog of Eternal Stench again…
After spending two days back in time in the medina, driving back through Fes towards Ifrane is another onslaught of the senses. Back to masses of cars, bad drivers and crazy pedestrians. This is the side of Fes that I hate. The medina is a world away from the city that is pretending to be organized and modern. Thankfully driving up to Ifrane you quickly get away from the crowds if not the bad drivers. With rain and low clouds all the way we were quickly rethinking all our countryside appreciation plans. Thankfully the miserable weather can’t detract from how pretty Ifrane is and when we arrived the mums were shocked by just how picturesque it was. Autumn leaves, red sloping roofs and French mountain architecture look good in any weather.
Apart from getting home and starting a bid fire we did little the rest of the day. Much longed for supplies from home were unpacked and appreciated, and warm comfy clothes put on to ward off the increasing cold. We did tempt the mums out with the thought of hot chocolate. We took them up to Michliflin resort. Not expecting the grandeur and huge roaring fires of the five star resort that is owned by the King, they were both blown away and declared intention to stay there on a future visit no matter what the cost. Later that evening after some research, this thought was quashed by a $250 a night price tag for a room without a view. All of a sudden our sofa beds looked quite inviting again. Even our drinks were $10 a pop. The food menu is ridiculously expensive and not hugely appetising. I have no idea how the place survives stunning as it is.
The next day to our great surprise we woke up to snow. Due to the altitude here it snows at around 2 degrees C. This was definitely not what our visitors had expected. Defeat was finally admitted and sun cream was put away. We set off for our morning coffee well wrapped up and then instead of our planned walk we drove around and explored the area from the warmth of the car. Snow softens the landscape here which is admittedly very bleak in places. Snow also brings up what the Lonely Planet describes as the 'hoi polloi' from the warmer cities. Bus and car loads of people come up to play around on the slopes in the snow. When we drove past the ski area people were renting sledges to put on the tiny area of snow that remained and dragging each other over patches of mud and rocks and out into the road. Snow obviously goes to their heads even more than mine. On the way back to Ifrane we stopped off at our friendly carpets seller's shop. Hassan has run the shop for nearly ten years. Set in side a small riad it has head height piles of carpets in many rooms and other ancient artefacts dotted around. It is musty and a little dark but a great collection of history. As well as a bit of history on carpets, local language and tribes, he gave us tea and a desert saved for special feasts, all with no pressure to buy.
When we dropped our mums at the airport later that day it felt good that it will only be four weeks until we are back home for Christmas. Regardless of the nice apartment, small classes, fresh air and countryside here, that is one of the biggest perks of the jobs for me. Cheap and quick access to home. Probably the one and only time I’ll consider Ryanair to be a perk.
Despite the stressful start and bad weather, all in all I would say our guests left having enjoyed their stay and hopefully want to come back. Now, who's next...
