I did not want to leave the desert, but all good things...you know the rest. So we got back in what Mama B described as our motorized camels and reunited with the bus. I have never been less excited to get on a bus before...but I did and though I'm not the type to get motion sick, the ride to Fes sent my stomach to a not so happy place. It took forever for us to get there. And when we did we were instructed to have dinner at the hotel then get back on the bus to see the city by night. I couldn't do it. Neither could my roomate. Instead we repacked for the millionth time, took long hot showers and watched B movies on TV. We would have one more day and night in Morocco before being on our way...so it seemed like a waste, but after such a gruelling pace, we both needed the rest.
The next morning I was still feeling ill, but I dragged myself out of bed anyway, determined to see the Medina. Fes is sometimes called the second Jerusalem because it has more mosques / religious buildings per capita than almost any other place in the world. Several people woke up and early and went with Hamid to watch the sunrise over the city, but I just didn't have it in me. I'm still in awe of our guides who have done ever thing we've done only with no food or water and even less sleep because they wake up before sunrise to eat before Ramadan begins anew.
Our first stop was to a place where tiles and pottery were made. There we met artisans, and saw the process from melting bricks into clay, to shaping objects on a wheel then sticking them in a kiln that burns so hot that even once you remove the pottery and set it aside for a day, it's still warm. Apparently olive pits are the secret to achieving such a hot fire. Then we watched the artist paint various designs, many of which have been passed on from generation to generation through whole lineages. The pottery was gorgeous. There were plate and cups and tiled fountains and tables that they were happy to ship for us, but I didn't buy a thing. After a while I just went to sit back on the dreaded bus because I still felt blah.
Once that portion of shopping was complete we made our way to the Medina which is a maze of narrow alleyways that weave their way into the center of the city. I've never seen anything quite like it. It quickly became clear to me why Jauoad and Hamid were so insistent upon us all staying together. After two turns I felt lost. Jaouad by comparison was very at home, smiling and waving to friends he passed, gesturing to places he spent his youth.
"This is the school where I first started studying the Koran at age 6," he said pointing up at this building with a bridge that cut over the alley way. We made our way single file though the narrow walk ways passing little shops with clothing, jewelry, spices, nut candies, fruit...anything and everything. But we didn't have time to shop at the moment. This really annoyed some people in the group, (Hamid renamed the theme of our trip Eat, Pray, Shop) but we all managed to stay together.
The Medina is one of the only places where there are no motorized vehicles allowed. I was curious as to how Mama B was going to manage. She walks with a cane and not only were we moving really fast, but the Medina isn't flat. There are steps and hills and twists and turns...of course our guides had already figured out a solution: they put her on a mule. Mama B is about the same age as my Grandma and I'm having a hard time picturing her on a mule roaming the streets of Fes, but she was committed. So we went through together, Mama B leading the way, stopping first at a place that used to be a mosque / university. There we marveled at the beautiful traditional architecture (the doorways and ceilings all over the country are especially gorgeous with the carved geometric designs each bearing the mark of the people or families of the area. Dr. Lissa led us in a prayer around the fountain.
From there we visited the rug store and had some lovely mint tea while a fleet of high pressure sales people sold some of the members of our group some very gorgeous (expensive) hand made rugs. This particular store is a coop of women weavers, though the sales people seemed to be all men. They laid out rug after rug explaining the differences in the weaves and the designs. Some were modern, some were traditional. Some took up to a month to make. They came in every color. Some were woven with symblos that came from Berber tattoos. I didn't buy a think, but I certainly enjoyed watching other people shop. Kathy got a gorgeous floor rug. It's safron with a design that looks like bowls and bowls of spices in every color lined up against one another.
Then it was time for lunch. Our guides took us to a lovely spot with an indoor courtyard where I had the best lentils I've had in my life...coupled with an ecclectic salad and some chicken with onions and rice...delicious. I could eat my way through Morocco with a smile. As I was finishing, Jaouad hand signaled to me that if I wanted to go to the Hammam he would take me. My friend DD had told me I couldn't leave Morocco without visiting a Hammam...a public bath...and being scrubbed with a kis (which is a loofa mit). So Kathy and I snuck away from the group. Jaouad led us down the alley to a small doorway where a very large light skinned woman with broken teeth greeted us in arabic. Jaouad negotiated the price and the length of time and left us to figure out the rest with a promise to return for us in an hour.
Inside up a few steps and to the left was a small room with some wooden benches and hooks to hang clothes on. The building itself looked like it was centuries old. The ceilings were high like a cathedral, and light came in from small windows from above. Of course my French is limited to ordering fish or chicken and my Arabic is even worse so I had no way of really asking questions, but somehow through a lot of gestures Kathy and I figured out that we were supposed to strip down to our panties. So we did and so (to my surprise) did the large lady. We followed her into the next room which was remniscent of a Japanese onsen (bath) except there was only one small pool and no one was in it. Instead there were two Asian women laying on the floor with a Moroccan woman pouring water on them and scrubbing them. In my head I had envisioned something simmilar to Olympus Spa...the one in Tacoma not in Lynnwood. While the Lynnwood version is all swanky and high end the Tacoma one is more no frills, however even in Tacoma they have massage tables. Still, when in Morocco...
So I asked to used the restroom which was little more than a squat toilet behind a wooden gate in the corner. There I met many large cockroaches which definitely gave me a sense of exactly how old the Medina and the building really were...old, old. I tried not to think about it, but it did kind of gross me out. Meanwhile Kathy was in bliss. When I came back she was seated on the floor grinning away. The Fat lady (I feel weird about calling her that, but I never could figure out her name) motioned for me to sit, so I sat and then she dumped a bucket of water on me and handed me a sticky handful of amber colored soap and motioned for me to soap up...which I did. Kathy followed suit. Then the lady grabbed my arm and started to scrub me. I don't think anyone has bathed me (other than me) since I was little kid, so it was a little awkward at first, especially since she was mostly naked too, but it did feel good to get some of the desert off me. The lady scrubbed and scrubbed me, panting the whole time and talking to me in incomprehensible streams of Arabic. After a while she gave up the chatter, but she continued to pant as if she were running a marathon. Afterwards she dumped more water on me, some hot some cold. She had this whole system of various buckets. The same process was repeated for Kathy. While I waited I sat crosslegged beneath a skylight and breathed in the steamy heat of the room. At one point I breathed out a long OM, just to hear it echo off the walls. The lady though this was very funny and laughed for a long time.
Then she motioned for Kathy to lay down and proceeded to give her a full on massage. I kind of thought the scrub was the main event, but I was wrong. After Kathy thoroughly, and very vocally, enjoyed her massage I layed down (directly on the tile) and got one too. And then it was time for more soaping and scrubbing and having buckets of water dumped on me. Though it was strange, it was really cool to be in a place where so many women over the years must have come to refresh. And it was effective. After drying off on a robe (neither of us had towels) we got dressed and Jaouad's friend Halid came to pick us up and take us to rejoin to group. I did feel refreshed. In fact I felt better than I had since that terrible bus ride.
We rejoined the group at the tannery. Everyone was cranky and annoyed. There was a very strong smell, so people were holding verbena to their face and begging to leave. I had no intention of buying any leather goods. My mission was to get some earrings for my friends and maybe a lightweight tunic, but instead I spotted a gorgeous turquois bag...I knew I was a goner then. My own personal salesman was a young Moroccan man name Mauhsin. He was a cheeky, shameless flirt, who tried to overcharge me, but did eventually come down to a reasonable price.
"I like you," he told me.
"You like people who spend money," I told him.
"Let's go upstairs, there's some clothes I want to show you."
"Alright but I'm not buying another thing. I'm a teacher and we don't make much money."
"I really do like you, and you've got money, I can tell," he grinned.
I followed him past the walls filled with gorgeous handmade leather purses in every color from saffron to fuscia to lavender, up a narrow staircase to a whole other room filled with leather coats and dresses all of which said "I'm very expensive...buy me, buy me."
"You should try something on. Trying is free," Mauhsin encouraged me. So I did, thinking I don't have any money so I can't possibly spend any money. I tried on a short red leather coat which was gorgeous and then a long black leather coat. As I was sliding this on, Kathy came up the stairs and caught her breath...and exclaimed "Oh yes. That is so you."
Mauhsin was all over it.
"This doesn't even fit me right," I told him. It was a little tight in the bust to which he replied.
"This is nothing. I'll fix it for you. I'll take your measurements. Moroccan men love women like you," he said eyeing my boobs.
"Go eat," I told him. "You're breaking Ramadan." (Hamid says another part of Ramadan is fasting from sex and sexual thoughts so if you're fantasizing about a woman you might as well eat).
Mauhsin just laughed. "I'm only breaking a little. I am a man after all. You need this coat. Do you want it in red."
And then he worked on me for the next hour trying to get me to pay $600...I payed $200 (though he told me to tell everyone else I paid $300)...they take visa. And true to his word the coat fits me like a glove...a very soft Moroccan red leather glove. He dropped it off around 10:00pm ish at my hotel at which point Tiffany decided she wanted to buy some leather bags, so back to the Medina we went where she bought 4 gorgeous bags and set up a contact for her newest business, a Moroccan leather import store...coming soon to NYC.
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