| The King
and I - Lost in Fez |
| Hopelessly
lost, unable to find my way through the maze as the light is becoming dimmer,
I search for a way out from amongst the ancient medieval structures that
seem to go on forever, perched along cobblestone streets. Houses have closed
their shutters, and the deserted alleyways are beginning to fill me with
a sense of intrigue mixed with awe; a bit of fear is admittedly beginning
to creep in. It is my first evening in the city of Fez.
I continue
to follow the narrow cobblestone paths, and am not finding a soul anywhere;
tension begins to grow and a feeling of excitement is mixed with apprehension.
It's easy to feel I have returned to the Middle Ages, wandering in this
cluster of ancient palaces and apartments, with their upstairs windows
once used for women of the harem to peek out at the passerbys, magnificent
interior and exterior tile work modeled after the craftsmen and architects
of the Alhambra. |
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The late afternoon
rapidly changes into evening, and it just keeps getting darker, and I continue
to feel more uneasy with my aimless wandering and not a soul in sight.
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A man in a
jelaba appears from nowhere, and sees that I'm lost. Although we
are unable to communicate in a common language, he is well aware that I
am a foreigner and knows the body language of 'I'm lost' only too well!
Nowhere is it easier to become lost than in the medina of Fez! |
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| He leads me
back to the spot where I had started from, up to the grand tiled arched
gateways that enclose the medina. I give him some change, and he is satisfied
with it after counting it, and disappears back into the maze, heading back
to his own destination after going out of his way to help me find my bearings.
The evening
rapidly becomes darker, since it is now late September and the days are
becoming shorter, and I am relieved to now find myself in a part of the
medina where there is activity, where I am surrounded by open shops, cafes,
the aroma of mint tea and steaming harriras simmering in pots and
a few isolated pockets of tourists, many of whom are traveling alone as
I am.
Aggressive
waiters try to commandeer me to patronize their particular café,
but for the time being I only want to savor this magnificent city and the
humanity that makes it such an unforgettable spot. |
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Offshore
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| Men and women
dressed in jelabas, and burnooses, wearing babushes, the typical slippers
worn as westerners would wear sandals, bustle through the shops and markets,
searching for fresh fruits and vegetables for dinner that evening.
Shopkeepers
do their best to attract anyone that looks like they might have some money
in their pocket to entice them to buy their wares. In fact, bronzeware
is a specialty of Fez, as well as Moroccan leather goods, and dye baths
known the world over, are to be found in this ancient part of the city.
Surrounded
by its magnificent walls, once a home to Sultans and harems and still a
home to Kings, Fez awaits the arrival of the new King, who after a three
month period of mourning for the death of his father, is now being reigned
in, and I have unknowingly chosen to come to play tourist here at the same
time!
It's an exciting
and skeptical time for the people, many of whom are impoverished. They
are hopeful that this will be the dawn of a new and prosperous era; the
general consensus is "We will wait and see." I’ve the honor of being in
the right place at the right time. |
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| Paper Moroccan
flags printed for this occasion are handed out freely, the green silhouetted
five pointed star proudly stands out from its background of red, and I
am offered a flag by a vendor. Larger versions are draped from windows.
Carpets have been laid in one part of the town, but unknown to the crowds
at this point, the King has chosen to arrive on the following day in yet
another part of the city in order to speak in a more open area.
Today, crowds
of people wait patiently, grandfathers with grandchildren perched on their
shoulders for at least two hours. Nothing happens and everyone finally
disperses and goes home. He just never showed up, and no one seems to know
why. All are disappointed, but it is the Moroccan way to never lose hope.
Enshallah, "It is God's will."
The next day,
late in the morning while I’m visiting a shop |
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| The friendly
young English-speaking shopkeeper tells me that he will be closing the
shop in ten minutes because the new King is arriving, and he wants to hear
him speak. At last, it's happening!
He invites
me to go along with him and his girlfriend to join the crowd of onlookers
and listeners, and I am delighted to take him up on his offer. I accompany
them both, but shortly afterwards, I am unable to find them amongst the
crowd. As I try to position myself to see the King, a friendly Moroccan
man warns me, again with body language, to watch my bag; there will be
pickpockets at such gatherings. I thank him, and having had that experience
before in other places I've traveled, I am careful.
The King arrives
with a motorcade, in an open car, dressed in a dark suit and tie, standing
in the back of the car, waving to the people. Cheers roar from the crowd.
I'm able to get a glimpse of him from a distance and a quick click of the
camera shows me later that I did manage to get one frame with the King,
a mini-view, smiling and waving to the crowds that have gathered for this
historic moment.
He is driven
to a podium where he openly speaks to the people in colloquial Moroccan
Arabic. No longer able to understand, I drift back to the medina where
I've booked a hotel for a couple of nights. I am told later on in the evening,
during dinner with others sharing their accounts of the King's speech with
me, that he has promised to bring more jobs, strengthen the economy, and
in general, improve the lot of the people. The philosophy of “We will wait
and see what happens” remains, but everyone is hopeful.
I realize that
I've seen only a small part of this country during this whirlwind trip
through Morocco,and I fully know I am covering only isolated bits and pieces
of Marrakesch, Meknes, Moulay Idriss, Fez, Asilah, Ifrane, Azrou
and Tangier, which only whets my appetite to experience it more fully.
I will have that opportunity, in fact, and will return in January to work
and spend a year here. During that time I will explore the country far
more than I've had a chance to on this trip, return to many of the spots
I've now spent a little time in, and explore new places that I didn't have
the time or opportunity to discover on my first round.
Traveling with
the people, the way I always travel, we share baguettes, tangerines, and
oranges on trains and buses and do our best to communicate. When I return
I'll have a chance to explore the country beyond even my own expectations,
due to an excellent infrastructure of buses, trains and inexpensive taxis,
but most of all, thanks to friendly, warm and welcoming people, who, once
they know my face, no longer regard me as a tourist, but in many cases
refer to me as a 'sister.' I heard it said once, 'You can leave Morocco,
but Morocco will never leave you.' True for me.
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