I'm a little worried that you're going to think I'm some sort of uber-Star Wars geek, with yet another reference, but I do have to tell you that we have spotted Obi-Wan Kenobi in the tiny streets and alleyways of Fez.
In fact, we spot him about every minute or so.
The "djellaba " is the traditional hooded robe worn by many Moroccans, and it gives everybody (men and women alike) that distinctly Obi-Wan Kenobi look. It also gives us constant false hope that by following this person, in whom the force is obviously strong, we might actually find our way out of Fez. Eventually. It is the most labyrinthine place I have ever been, and the number of streets/alleys (frankly, there's no distinction between the two here) has been numbered at anywhere between 8,000 and 16,000. It is such a maze (and so amazing) that the impossible finally happens: Even Anthony's innate GPS does not function here. Within minutes, he is just as hopelessly lost and turned around as the rest of us. Which makes the 400 dirhams (about 40€ or $55) we spend on hiring a personal guide for a day and a half very, very worthwhile.
Fez is the largest pedestrian-only city in the world. No wonder, since between the hills, the steps, the cobblestones, the tiny alleys, the shortened doorjambs, and the 90° turns in the streets, it would not be feasible to ride a vehicle here even if you were allowed. The only things that threaten to run you over here are donkeys, mules, and pushcarts.
The girls take a mule ride; they do the same convoluted loop of alleys four times and never notice they are going in circles. And I think this garbageman, making his rounds through the "streets" with his garbage "truck", also proves the point nicely. Amazingly, Fez is quite clean. I shudder to think what a place this convoluted and narrow would look like if it were in India.
Hiring a guide proves to be an especially excellent move not just because of logistics and safety. It also accomplishes two other really important things: 1) it prevents other people from hassling us all day to hire them as guides and 2) it allows us to explore dark nooks and crannies we would never have felt comfortable exploring without him. By our last evening, we feel comfortable enough to venture out on our own (of course, we still get lost), even at night in well-worn paths. I spend most of my time in Fez actually, literally giddy and skipping lightly, because it feels so intensely exotic and so much like being in the most stereotypical, Disney-esque Arabian city. Except more so.
Our lovely guide, Azdin, shows us the door of the house where he was born and raised. No wonder he knows these streets like the back of his hand. He is also scrupulously honest, very kind, fluent in English, and extremely knowledgeable, and well worth the extra cost of hiring an official and licensed guide. For example, we learn that these short doorways are not a sign of a poorer family, as we would suspect, but just the opposite: high-status, wealthy, and important people built these low-door entryways so that people would be forced to bow down as they entered.
Nestled among the alleys are some beautiful spots, including one of the most picturesque (yet malodorous): the leather tannery. Here I buy a leather jacket -- a splurge I make about once every decade when I throw caution to the wind. The first time was in Indonesia after being attacked by a swarm of wasps and spending a few days in a hospital and deciding to live it up with a big purchase. The second time was while shopping for a wedding dress with my mom. And now, here in Morocco, because Anthony has just bought four Oriental carpets and can't possibly object. Still, throwing caution to the wind is not, in my case, the same as throwing cash to the wind, and when the seller originally quotes me 450€ (about $600), I accidentally snort with laughter. Once he realizes I work on a completely different price point (a Goodwill shopper at heart), I get him down to 120€, and then he tacks on an extra 10 for using a credit card.
Other spots include the many lovely gates, the mosques that we can only peer into, and the surprisingly airy courtyards hidden behind the plain facades and tiny alleys. The courtyard pictured below is actually a musuem, so particularly lovely and well-renovated.
Outside the medina (the ancient quarter), we see the doors of the palace, one of many of the King who we at first think is named "Mohamed Sex" until we realize it's just "Mohamed the Sixth" with an accent. Interesting fact about Mohamed VI: he's the King who outlawed polygamy in Morocco, about twelve years ago. Yes, he himself has just one wife. We also see the Jewish cemetery, which is just about as labyrinthine as the medina itself, and quite lovely. Moroccan Islam seems to be a very open, rather tolerant version, with local women dressed modestly, but in everything from tight jeans and long-sleeve shirts, to djellabas, to head-coverings, to full-on burkas, all sharing the streets. Another interesting factoid: In the 1940s, Morocco was still a protectorate of France. When Hitler asked Morocco's then-King, Mohamed V (grandfather to Mohamed VI) to give up its Jews, he was told "We don't have Jews. We have Moroccans." Not one of the approximately 200,000 Moroccan Jews went to a concentration camp or even wore the yellow stars that would mark them as Jews.
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