FEZ
- Hannah McDonald
- Mar 17
- 6 min read
This morning marks the start of our tour around Morocco! Our driver and guide, Mouhssine, picks us up from the Keppler’s place, and we begin the roughly three-hour drive to Fez. Along the highway, lush, green fields stretch out, partly due to the rain from the past week.
The busy roads signal our arrival in Fez, and our local guide, Omar, hops in the car. The government requires a local guide in the cities, meaning Mouhssine can’t show us around.
Omar leads us into the medina, navigating narrow alleyways with uniform walls that seem impossible to navigate. He points out a hexagon tile indicating the street, explaining that hexagons mark dead ends, while squares signal through streets. Still, that's not enough to keep me from getting lost in here. I am thankful we have a guide. Omar gives us a quick rundown: Ask before taking pictures and watch out for large carts rolling through the narrow streets. And with that, we’re swept into the hustle and bustle of the medina. It’s hard to know where to look with so much happening at once. We are in the food section of the medina, and the stalls are filled with vendors selling all kinds of food. One woman rolls dough and bakes it on a sphere. We quickly pass through textiles, where vendors dye clothes and materials in steaming tubs. It almost looks like witchcraft. The sound of banging hammers grows louder as we enter the copper smithing area, where people craft pots, pans, and other kitchenware in an open workshop. As we admire the craftsmanship, donkeys loaded with supplies navigate the narrow alleyway. Within the medina, there’s more than just vendors. We also pass by the Al-Qarawiyyin Mosque and University, adorned with intricate tiles, and the Mausoleum of Moulay Idriss II, where the founder of Fez, Moulay Idriss II, is buried. We can’t enter, but we peek inside to admire its beauty.
Lunch is next, and Omar winds us through the medina until he ducks into what looks like a random door. It seems like a hole in the wall amid the narrow alleyway and solid, bland exterior walls. But once inside, we discover a large, beautifully decorated restaurant with a tall ceiling and multiple levels overlooking the center. You would never guess this place was here from the outside. We ordered the vegan options, and then the food just started coming—far more than we ordered. Small plates of beans, lentils, rice, veggies, olives, and more arrive, followed by a Tajine and couscous, and then some dessert. Finally, mint tea, a staple drink here, is served. Feeling full, our guide picks us up to continue the tour (it’s Ramadan, so he’s fasting).
Next, we visit the Bou Inania Madrasa, a stunning 14th-century Islamic school famous for its intricate tilework and exquisite wood carvings. The level of detail is remarkable. Inside, the teacher delivers lessons from beneath a large dome that amplifies their voice, carrying it throughout the space. Our guide shows us the stairs leading to the dormitories above, advising us to take our time. That might be dangerous because it’s easy to get lost in the beauty here—especially when we are away from the busy medina. The rooms are small but have windows overlooking the courtyard and the medina. It’s nice to see things from a different, less busy perspective, and we listen to the call to prayer as we take it all in.
Back in the hustle of the medina, it doesn’t take long before we duck into another hole in the wall. On our way in, Omar casually mentions that we don’t have to buy anything. A man wearing a New York hat greets us and starts telling us about the beautiful carpets on the wall. Next thing I know, mint tea is served, and carpets are being rolled out one by one in front of us, all handmade by Moroccan women. “What is happening?” I ask. “We’re getting sold a carpet,” Mom replies. And my goodness, does it turn into quite the ordeal. After a pile of carpets forms in front of us, the salesman instructs us to say “take away” or “keep” in Arabic for each one. I think, “We aren’t seriously going through all these carpets, are we?” But sure enough, we are. Joelle, the only one of us with a strong sense of negotiation, steps into the middle of it all. The carpets are beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t need one, and they’re not in our price range, even though they’re cheaper than what we’d pay in the U.S. After narrowing it down to two carpets, the salesman pulls out a pen and paper and walks Joelle through his pricing, then hands her the paper to write what she can pay. Having made her own handmade creations, Joelle knows she can’t pay anywhere near what the carpets are worth. She finally writes down a number, after relentless prompting from the salesman, and says, “please say no,” when she returns the paper to him. He looks at it confused, thinking she forgot a zero. In another attempt, he tries to bring out the “student” carpets, cheaper options for a student’s budget, but we look to Omar for help. He gets us out of the shop with no carpet in hand. Phew.
Weaving through the narrow streets again, we arrive at the Chouara Tannery, one of the oldest tanneries in the world. Leather goods are still made here using traditional methods passed down through generations. After climbing steep stairs, we are handed fresh mint leaves to mask the strong odor. From the balcony, we can see hides stretched out to dry and large vats filled with vibrant dyes where the leather is soaked and colored. A few workers are below, carefully dyeing the hides. After learning about the process, the salesman attempts to show us around the shop. To avoid another long sales pitch, Mom says, “We’re vegan.” The salesman pauses, scans us, and asks, “You’re all vegan?” When we confirm, he sighs in defeat, and we’re free to leave. Phew.
Next, we visit a local baker where residents bring their dough to be baked in an oven dug into the floor and wall. The baker, using a long wooden stick, carefully places the dough inside. He knows whose bread belongs to whom by the unique pans they bring.
Since the pottery store in Casablanca, we have been looking forward to seeing the pottery in Fez. Joelle, especially, is excited, as she recently took a pottery class. Mouhssine picks us up, and we head to the workshop. We walk past lumps of clay then carefully wheel-spun pieces. The tile work is impressive, and we are shown the hammer-like tool used to break the tiles. The tile artist makes Joelle and me each a heart-shaped tile. The intricate work that goes into making the tiling for mosques and other tiled pieces is quite impressive. We shop around, and Joelle buys a small cup that she plans to turn into a candle. Despite being advised to never take the first price, Joelle buys it at the asking price, relieving the shop workers to go home to break their Ramadan fast.
Our second-to-last stop is a view over the medina, where we get a real sense of just how vast it is. We have only seen a fraction. After a quick stop, we head to the King’s palace. There are 17 across the country, and they are not open to the public. No palace shopping for Joelle and me this trip. The gates are intricately golden, but the walls surrounding the grounds are solid and bland, much like the walls we have seen throughout Fez. Omar tells us about the palace, and one remark that stands out is when he points out how fortunate we are as Americans, able to travel the world with relative ease. He contrasts this with the process Moroccans must go through to visit the United States, given the complex visa requirements.
On our way to the riad (hotel), we pass the Mellah, or Jewish Quarters, and the Bab Boujloud, the Blue Gate. This gate is the main entrance to the old city, iconic for its blue and green mosaics. We also pass a game of football (soccer) in the street, just before sunset. Mouhssine gets us settled in the riad, where we are once again served mint tea. This is yet another “hole in the wall” experience. After winding through alleyways with solid, bland walls, we enter through a door that opens to a beautiful courtyard, with an open ceiling allowing us to see the sky above. Our room is beautiful, overlooking the courtyard. We crash for the night, not wanting to venture out into the confusing streets of the medina alone.
Tomorrow we start our long drive to the desert!
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