Morocco. Part II

October 31 – November 4, 2008

Souk El Arbaa

Rural Moroccan towns aren’t as wealthy as the cities, of course.

The gypsy has foretold no more than a hundred.

Make every effort to protect the forest—our national wealth.

Meknes

Some historical muck has been preserved next to the main city wall. It’s a shame you can no longer find such authentic surroundings next to other famous walls in different countries.

There’s a fairly boring mausoleum of the sultan who founded the city here.

The taxis in Meknes are a washed-out turquoise.

The streetlights with yellow lampshades are the city’s main item of interest.

The art of decorating pay toilet signs is alive and well here, too.

The light in November is infinitely more interesting than in the summer.

Together with rain showers, cyclones and unripe oranges, it makes for some incredible beauty.

Moroccan rap is excellent, by the way.

Khenifra

A city the color of dark brick, about five times redder than Marrakech.

Fez

The taxis are red here.

Meters and other equipment are serviced by a company called RADEEF.

Nowhere in the world have I seen more driving schools than in Morocco. They’re like pharmacies here—one on almost every block.

Antiquities can be found on every corner.

Even in the new city.

Fez consists of the old city and the new city. The new city was built by the French so as not to demolish the old one.

Parking in the old city.

Modern payphones have made their way here as well.

The streets are so narrow here that cars are completely out of the question. Trash is collected by a street cleaner in a fluorescent uniform. His equipment consists of a special garbage donkey with bags on its sides. The cleaner packs trash into the bags with the help of a tamping stick.

Fez is a touristy place, so the Arab pestering is at a maximum here (it’s on par with Luxor). Special agents on motorcycles pick out tourists in rental cars, and it’s extremely difficult to get rid of them. Night and rain don’t hinder them in the least (they pull up to you at every light to tout accommodations for a twenty).

There’s never a shortage of people who want to see the narrow streets of the old city.

Tourists enter the old city from the tourist side. But there’s also another side—the everyday one.

The everyday side isn’t displayed so much. Here’s a dried-up riverbed, for instance. The fence on the left conceals the unsightly view from shop and café visitors. In fact, the only way I was able to see this was by taking a photo with my arms outstretched.

If you walk around to the other side of the old city, however, you’ll find a proper full-flowing river.

There are no tourists in sight whatsoever here. This can best be explained by a quote from the novel The Perfumer: “There was no human activity, either constructive or destructive, no manifestation of germinating or decaying life that was not accompanied by a stench.” This is about Fez.

“Boys, I brought you some coffee pots!” A woman from the metal shop carries a new batch of wares that need to be scrubbed with river sand before being taken back to be sold.

You’ll also find craftsmen preparing leather for tanning on the riverfront. First, the hide needs to be de-haired.

Then there’s a whole other production cycle before it’s hung to dry.

Everything in sight is covered with a thick layer of some kind of crap.

The locals either wear rubber boots or go straight to flip-flops.

Half the tanners are standing knee-deep in various liquids.

They have to spend all day working bent over in a dark space.

The word “space” is the most accurate term to describe the workplace of the soaker and dyer.

The primary liquid used is horse urine. It’s no easy path for the sheep from field to bag.

There’s also dry work to be done: softening the leather with a special scraper all day long.

The technology hasn’t changed for many centuries.

But then again, neither has Fez.

And neither has Morocco.