Loaded like pack mules, we made our way into the station. Since they already had tickets, we headed for the appropriate quay for our train to Fès/Fez. It was a pleasant ride of about two and a half hours. The train was late arriving, so we got into Fez later than expected.
The Medina was another experience. 3 of them went in Najib’s car and the other three went by taxi. It was getting a bit later than planned and it was hot. Inside the medina was the market that sells just about everything, typical of Morocco, as well as imported. We went into an old renovated mosque to see the woodwork and the construction. It was fascinating; the wood was intricately carved and laid in to make patterns. They were told that they used cedar to build in those days. The whole Medina is more complicated than the ones we visited in the other cities, this one
Finally, they got to a leather jacket merchant who is known to Najib. After quite a bit of haggling, they got what they wanted and started walking out. By then, we had lost the sense of direction and suddenly we were back on the lane where we started. Fascinating place.
The medina of Fez has been classified as a national heritage. Within its walls are numerous old mosques and madrassas as well as the tomb of Moulay Idriss. These are vastly decorated places: mosaics, woodwork, tile work, carpets etc. It is next to one such that we fell on this strange workshop making wedding 'equipment': palanquins, litters etc. Very glitzy and showy, in your face type of thing.
A light but varied lunch awaited us upon our return to Fatimah’s house. A few hours of siesta and they were all in the kitchen to prepare for the braai. Finally, after a few moments of panic the staple was sorted out, the salad was made and the meat was grilling on a brand new braai which Hans had helped Fatimah to buy earlier.
The company gathered around the tables and it was a merry evening for all.
The next day was Monday, no plans were made since there was some phoning and other communication to be done regarding the cars and the logistics. By 9h30 they had heard that the cars are likely to be in Casablanca on Friday, maybe Thursday afternoon. The habbibi’s were rather put off by this news.
By then Fatimah was home for lunch and had commissioned her maid to make harira for us for dinner. She was hard at work and finally just closed everything in the pressure cooker and the whole thing was ready about an hour later. The house had settled down into some siesta, blogging and other communication by then.
The harira was ample, they ate well. It was followed by some typical Moroccan sweets and green tea.
Dead on time, the hired vehicle was on the doorstep. We all fitted in. They discussed the programme with the driver who suggested that he would take them to Safrou first. An agricultural town developed by the jews of the time with a small waterfall in it. It was quaint, as a small town but the buildings were mostly without imagination as many of these rural towns go. The waterfall was not spectacular but it was well set up and must have been quite a 'promenade' in the 'good old days' too.
Then we were taken to a big lake outside Imouzzer, the water was clear even though there were loads of algae and other plants growing in it. They did not wade into this lake but tasted the water from a public fountain just off the lake. Next stop was the cedar trees of Mr Goudeau. The one that is famous is 800 years old but had been dead since 10 years.
They then drove up to Ifrane where we stopped and walked in the park and part of the town to get introduced to the Lion of Ifrane. This town looks a bit like Switzerland with its roofed houses of orangey-red tiles - it snows here. It is also a town where a private university has been established and the king has one of his R & R palaces. When we were there, the sun was still fierce and it was only marginally cooler than down in Fez.
Next stop was Afrou where they thought they'd visit a local market while the driver had lunch. Unfortunately the market had moved away from its usual location next to the mosque and the driver had to take them there on food. The walk was interminable, it was around midday. Coen's head was getting rather burnt too.
This market sells just about everything - Chinese junk, clothes, local water (which is ice cold), carpets, etc etc...... Elisme was looking for the traditional Galabia, in red. The people were desperate to sell but spoke very little English. We drifted from one tent to another under the scorching sun, looking. On the way, Hans found a small pressure cooker which he likes - we bargained a bit but the aunty was one of those who makes a price: local or foreign, same price.
Finally, Elisme found what she wants. The two lady vendors were nicely lying there chatting. They spoke no French and referred to the currency in its older terms: rials. They hit a satisfactory amount and walked off with the purchase.
That evening, everyone was pretty much knocked out. They tried to get to bed early since the men were taking an early train to Rabat to do more visa procedures and then rolling down to Casablanca to find out about the cars.
The taxi that promised to be at the door to pick them up was there on time. They had sandwiches packed for them from the evening before and also carried water. After they left, there was peace and quiet in the house for a few hours until the rest of them were awake. A plan of the day was devised and Fatimah left for work.
They prepared lunch with some contribution from Mwe Batoul and just sat around the relaxed for most part. Ahmet, Fatimah's son was taking his driving exam that day, theory in the morning and practicals in the afternoon.
The ladies had decided to do the 'hammam' that afternoon. Fatimah would drop them on her way back to work after lunch and they'd come back by taxi. Then there was a change of plan: Fatimah wanted to be with her son after the practicals and it was ok with them at her work. So, she proposed that she does the driving exam thing, then fetches them for the hammam while she does her 'aqua gym' and then visit the Artisanal Centre on the way back.
After a good lunch of potatoes stuffed with ratatouille, they relaxed a bit more. They got some news from the men in Rabat regarding the progress of the 'démarches'.
Eventually, Fatimah pitched and they al drove to Nausikaa, the spa not far from her house. The receptionist was helpful but also talked a bit fast to explain how things worked for the hammam. They all settled on the mud mask after the hammam and Elismé added a pedicure.
It was quite hilarious: first they went to the (un)dressing room where they were given bath robes, black soap, shampoo, glove and a towel while their own clothes were kept in a numbered locker. The place was quite sumptuous, grand Moroccan decor, just enough for a place like this, good lighting and sober music playing in the background. They found women of all ages in there - from 8 years old to 60+, different shapes and sizes too!
After undressing they were guided to the steam bath where they had to rub on the black soap, sit in the steam for a bit then the 'girls' come to fetch them for a wash down and then glove scrub. That glove was a bit rough on the skin but they did not quite realise how round until afterwards.
After the scrub, the body was rinsed of all the dead skin (surely, alive skin too) and then began the rub down and massage with the clay. They left the clay on the body for a while then another shower, complete with shampoo before dipping in a Jacuzzi. This one was not bubbling satisfactorily but it was cold.
Another shower and they were done. Wrapped in the bathrobes again, Elismé made her way to her pedicure and the other two to a nice lounge with 'chaises longues', soft lighting and music. After this rest, they got dressed and went to wait with orange juice in the spa's café. Fatimah arrived with Ahmed who passed his exam and Elismé followed wearing funny sandals after her foot treatment. Another round of orange juice followed. Mariana told the girl behind the counter
that she wanted to pay and the other one who did not have a stitch of English understood 'paille' (which means straw), hence Mariana repeated herself a few times and found herself with 4 straws!
The Craft centre, in avenue Hassan II was a good discovery. It is set in the old Convention centre, no one hassles you, you can browse to your heart's content and then visit the small workshops set up in the compound of this centre. By the time we got there, many of the small workshops had closed for the day. We bought a few 'bricoles' and then went to visit the other workshops. Fascinating work is being done there: embroidery, weaving, woodwork, brass work and others.
Compared to the size of the centre, only a small part is occupied. They could develop the place more and advertise. It is safe, no so-called guides to press on you, no hassles from mendicants or cross shopkeepers. It is on a main road, the main road to the gate of the palace and the small souk of the old jewish quarter - it would get visitors for sure.
Another vegetarian concoction was on for dinner. By then, their men were in Casablanca. Fatimah also baked a chocolate cake for Ahmed. We had to wait for it to cool down before decorating it and eating it - it was past 11 in the evening by then but very much worth it.
They decided not to do the Medina the next day. There was some phoning around to find out where the cars were and what other paperwork had to be carried out before they can be cleared. Whatever admin that could be done prior to the arrival of the ship was being done by the men.
That evening, they went to La Grillardière, a local chain of grill houses that serve excellent meat but also brochettes and pizza. This was also in celebration of Ahmed's licence. She had lamb chops which were served generously with veggies and chips. Ahmed ordered a T-bone steak. It was cute, about half the size of the serving they get in SA. It was a jolly evening which ended by Shahnaz getting the car to get more groceries from Marjane!!!
I was not there, the ballerines went. Ahmed was navigating but they went and came back in one piece with loads of shopping. It was quite creative I heard. The Moroccans are very impatient in the traffic and not very good at stopping at stop signs. That was her first taste of driving in this country.
For Friday, a visit to the Medina was ruled out because everything would be closed. Ahmed was recruited as a guide, translator and body guard to take us to the Artisanal Centre on Hassan II. That involved a long walk down the main road from the house then a wait. We were 4, so needed 2 taxis since the petit taxis take max 3 people at a time. The one who stopped first said he could take only two people since he was 'en rodage'.
So, two of them went and saw to it that the driver set the meter before starting. Ahmed and Elismé followed a while later after having witnessed a rather nasty traffic accident. At the craft centre, they spent a while finding what they want, haggling for discounts etc. Leaving the centre, they walked down to find an ATM and then proceed to the gates of the palace. On the way, in order to get watered and get a decent loo, we stopped at the local McDonald's. It was built a bit in the Moroccan style and water by the cup is free of charge.
By the time they got there, they learned that the market of the old Jewish quarter was also closed on Fridays. They walked further to see what was up and got accosted by some so-called guides. They were insisting on taking us to the synagogue and the cemetery. The point was the market first and the old buildings on the way. When they refused their assistance, there was some name calling which was not very nice. They walked off.
They were told that the Artisanal Centre was also closed for prayers, so they caught a taxi back to the house and did not go back there to fetch their parcels. It was lunch time by the time they got back. Fatimah was concocting something quick and they all sat down to a jolly lunch.
On their own in Casablanca, the husbands were coping as best they can. They had booked themselves in a hotel in the Medina which was correct but had little else to offer. They went hunting for food as per recommendation of other South Africans they met there. They got to a tagine made at you watch. After various visits to various offices they had done what they could, and decided to return to Fez. When they arrived they had to be watered and fed. They decided to come back because the containers had to be inspected and the procedures could not be done before Monday.
The plan for the evening was dinner of Thai green curry and moussaka for those who find the curry too hot. Fatimah phoned to say that she was coming back early and Ahmed should get ready to go for a walk with her. I was asked to go too. So, she quickly got the chicken curry on the way. We packed into the car a while later - Ahmed's nose was bleeding profusely. So, instead of a walk, we went for a drive up the hill, past the forest and then stopped by an old hotel with a natural source of water for orange juice. It was peaceful, cooler and different.
Saturday morning, Fatimah dropped us by a taxi and we went back to the Artisanal centre to fetch their parcels and get some more of these wonderful wares.
Lunch was composed of a grand couscous prepared by Mwe Batoul. She had a couscousière going and we were watching the procedures, helping when we could. Parsley was still missing to complete this whole procedure, so they went to a local market. On the way they ordered a Fez b'stilla and tasted some Moroccan sweets at the patisserie.
Fatima, Suleiman’s sister who lives here, said she would meet us at the station. She had rallied her husband in case there would really be no space for everyone and the luggage. It was hot when we arrived and a warm breeze was blowing.
We were all invited to shack up at Fatima’s until such time as they get the cars cleared. They did not want to impose but there was no saying when the cars would be at the docks and how much time it would take to clear them off customs. She had moved in her new house some months before and it was not finished. If we wanted to get some cheap mattresses, she said, we could settle in until we got the cars.
 |
| Fatima's house |
After a delicious lunch of ‘poulet fermier’; chicken with saffron and all the side dishes, every one crashed for a rest. Then, we hit the hypermarket, Marjane, to get what we needed to settle in: towels, mattresses and some food. After which we went for a long walk into the forest with Najib. It was still warm but walking and perspiring acted as airconditioning. It is dry season even though dark clouds were looming on the horizon.
That evening we had left-overs and planned the next day: visit to the Medina and braai would be the two main events of the day. However, in the morning, when they finished breakfast earlier than expected, Fatimah took them to the local markets and the butcher too. The market was not fully opened but the few vendors who were there had wonderful fruits and vegetables, and fish too.
I got promptly cleaned before the next outing since the walk had rendered me quite dusty and grubby. She did not want to be accosted by these shoe-shine guys who are to be found everywhere in these public places.
The Medina was another experience. 3 of them went in Najib’s car and the other three went by taxi. It was getting a bit later than planned and it was hot. Inside the medina was the market that sells just about everything, typical of Morocco, as well as imported. We went into an old renovated mosque to see the woodwork and the construction. It was fascinating; the wood was intricately carved and laid in to make patterns. They were told that they used cedar to build in those days. The whole Medina is more complicated than the ones we visited in the other cities, this one seems to be older too and parts of it had burnt down and been refurbished.
They got hassled by people who insisted that they be hired as guides to us and at one moment one tried to hijack a transaction they were doing for the purchase of hats and head-dress. He tried to stick to us but eventually disappeared into the crowd.
Finally, they got to a leather jacket merchant who is known to Najib. After quite a bit of haggling, they got what they wanted and started walking out. By then, we had lost the sense of direction and suddenly we were back on the lane where we started. Fascinating place. The medina of Fez has been classified as a national heritage. Within its walls are numerous old mosques and madrassas as well as the tomb of Moulay Idriss. These are vastly decorated places: mosaics, woodwork, tile work, carpets etc. It is next to one such that we fell on this strange workshop making wedding 'equipment': palanquins, litters etc. Very glitzy and showy, in your face type of thing.
A light but varied lunch awaited us upon our return to Fatimah’s house. A few hours of siesta and they were all in the kitchen to prepare for the braai. Finally, after a few moments of panic the staple was sorted out, the salad was made and the meat was grilling on a brand new braai which Hans had helped Fatimah to buy earlier.
The company gathered around the tables and it was a merry evening for all.
The next day was Monday, no plans were made since there was some phoning and other communication to be done regarding the cars and the logistics. By 9h30 they had heard that the cars are likely to be in Casablanca on Friday, maybe Thursday afternoon. The habbibi’s were rather put off by this news.
When Fatimah phoned to seek some news, she said that they could use these additional days to visit other places around Fez and make the most of it. The mood got better from then on but there was still some uncertainty about the whole organization of the next few days.
By then Fatimah was home for lunch and had commissioned her maid to make harira for us for dinner. She was hard at work and finally just closed everything in the pressure cooker and the whole thing was ready about an hour later. The house had settled down into some siesta, blogging and other communication by then.
The harira was ample, they ate well. It was followed by some typical Moroccan sweets and green tea.
Dead on time, the hired vehicle was on the doorstep. We all fitted in. They discussed the programme with the driver who suggested that he would take them to Safrou first. An agricultural town developed by the jews of the time with a small waterfall in it. It was quaint, as a small town but the buildings were mostly without imagination as many of these rural towns go. The waterfall was not spectacular but it was well set up and must have been quite a 'promenade' in the 'good old days' too. 
Then we were taken to a big lake outside Imouzzer, the water was clear even though there were loads of algae and other plants growing in it. They did not wade into this lake but tasted the water from a public fountain just off the lake. Next stop was the cedar trees of Mr Goudeau. The one that is famous is 800 years old but had been dead since 10 years.
They then drove up to Ifrane where we stopped and walked in the park and part of the town to get introduced to the Lion of Ifrane. This town looks a bit like Switzerland with its roofed houses of orangey-red tiles - it snows here. It is also a town where a private university has been established and the king has one of his R & R palaces. When we were there, the sun was still fierce and it was only marginally cooler than down in Fez. Next stop was Afrou where they thought they'd visit a local market while the driver had lunch. Unfortunately the market had moved away from its usual location next to the mosque and the driver had to take them there on food. The walk was interminable, it was around midday. Coen's head was getting rather burnt too.
This market sells just about everything - Chinese junk, clothes, local water (which is ice cold), carpets, etc etc...... Elisme was looking for the traditional Galabia, in red. The people were desperate to sell but spoke very little English. We drifted from one tent to another under the scorching sun, looking. On the way, Hans found a small pressure cooker which he likes - we bargained a bit but the aunty was one of those who makes a price: local or foreign, same price.
Finally, Elisme found what she wants. The two lady vendors were nicely lying there chatting. They spoke no French and referred to the currency in its older terms: rials. They hit a satisfactory amount and walked off with the purchase.
That evening, everyone was pretty much knocked out. They tried to get to bed early since the men were taking an early train to Rabat to do more visa procedures and then rolling down to Casablanca to find out about the cars.
The taxi that promised to be at the door to pick them up was there on time. They had sandwiches packed for them from the evening before and also carried water. After they left, there was peace and quiet in the house for a few hours until the rest of them were awake. A plan of the day was devised and Fatimah left for work.
They prepared lunch with some contribution from Mwe Batoul and just sat around the relaxed for most part. Ahmet, Fatimah's son was taking his driving exam that day, theory in the morning and practicals in the afternoon.
The ladies had decided to do the 'hammam' that afternoon. Fatimah would drop them on her way back to work after lunch and they'd come back by taxi. Then there was a change of plan: Fatimah wanted to be with her son after the practicals and it was ok with them at her work. So, she proposed that she does the driving exam thing, then fetches them for the hammam while she does her 'aqua gym' and then visit the Artisanal Centre on the way back.
After a good lunch of potatoes stuffed with ratatouille, they relaxed a bit more. They got some news from the men in Rabat regarding the progress of the 'démarches'.
Eventually, Fatimah pitched and they al drove to Nausikaa, the spa not far from her house. The receptionist was helpful but also talked a bit fast to explain how things worked for the hammam. They all settled on the mud mask after the hammam and Elismé added a pedicure.
It was quite hilarious: first they went to the (un)dressing room where they were given bath robes, black soap, shampoo, glove and a towel while their own clothes were kept in a numbered locker. The place was quite sumptuous, grand Moroccan decor, just enough for a place like this, good lighting and sober music playing in the background. They found women of all ages in there - from 8 years old to 60+, different shapes and sizes too!
After undressing they were guided to the steam bath where they had to rub on the black soap, sit in the steam for a bit then the 'girls' come to fetch them for a wash down and then glove scrub. That glove was a bit rough on the skin but they did not quite realise how round until afterwards.
After the scrub, the body was rinsed of all the dead skin (surely, alive skin too) and then began the rub down and massage with the clay. They left the clay on the body for a while then another shower, complete with shampoo before dipping in a Jacuzzi. This one was not bubbling satisfactorily but it was cold.
Another shower and they were done. Wrapped in the bathrobes again, Elismé made her way to her pedicure and the other two to a nice lounge with 'chaises longues', soft lighting and music. After this rest, they got dressed and went to wait with orange juice in the spa's café. Fatimah arrived with Ahmed who passed his exam and Elismé followed wearing funny sandals after her foot treatment. Another round of orange juice followed. Mariana told the girl behind the counter
that she wanted to pay and the other one who did not have a stitch of English understood 'paille' (which means straw), hence Mariana repeated herself a few times and found herself with 4 straws!
The Craft centre, in avenue Hassan II was a good discovery. It is set in the old Convention centre, no one hassles you, you can browse to your heart's content and then visit the small workshops set up in the compound of this centre. By the time we got there, many of the small workshops had closed for the day. We bought a few 'bricoles' and then went to visit the other workshops. Fascinating work is being done there: embroidery, weaving, woodwork, brass work and others.
Compared to the size of the centre, only a small part is occupied. They could develop the place more and advertise. It is safe, no so-called guides to press on you, no hassles from mendicants or cross shopkeepers. It is on a main road, the main road to the gate of the palace and the small souk of the old jewish quarter - it would get visitors for sure.
 |
| Chocolate cake being prepared |
Another vegetarian concoction was on for dinner. By then, their men were in Casablanca. Fatimah also baked a chocolate cake for Ahmed. We had to wait for it to cool down before decorating it and eating it - it was past 11 in the evening by then but very much worth it.
They decided not to do the Medina the next day. There was some phoning around to find out where the cars were and what other paperwork had to be carried out before they can be cleared. Whatever admin that could be done prior to the arrival of the ship was being done by the men.
That evening, they went to La Grillardière, a local chain of grill houses that serve excellent meat but also brochettes and pizza. This was also in celebration of Ahmed's licence. She had lamb chops which were served generously with veggies and chips. Ahmed ordered a T-bone steak. It was cute, about half the size of the serving they get in SA. It was a jolly evening which ended by Shahnaz getting the car to get more groceries from Marjane!!!
I was not there, the ballerines went. Ahmed was navigating but they went and came back in one piece with loads of shopping. It was quite creative I heard. The Moroccans are very impatient in the traffic and not very good at stopping at stop signs. That was her first taste of driving in this country.
For Friday, a visit to the Medina was ruled out because everything would be closed. Ahmed was recruited as a guide, translator and body guard to take us to the Artisanal Centre on Hassan II. That involved a long walk down the main road from the house then a wait. We were 4, so needed 2 taxis since the petit taxis take max 3 people at a time. The one who stopped first said he could take only two people since he was 'en rodage'.
So, two of them went and saw to it that the driver set the meter before starting. Ahmed and Elismé followed a while later after having witnessed a rather nasty traffic accident. At the craft centre, they spent a while finding what they want, haggling for discounts etc. Leaving the centre, they walked down to find an ATM and then proceed to the gates of the palace. On the way, in order to get watered and get a decent loo, we stopped at the local McDonald's. It was built a bit in the Moroccan style and water by the cup is free of charge. 
By the time they got there, they learned that the market of the old Jewish quarter was also closed on Fridays. They walked further to see what was up and got accosted by some so-called guides. They were insisting on taking us to the synagogue and the cemetery. The point was the market first and the old buildings on the way. When they refused their assistance, there was some name calling which was not very nice. They walked off.
They were told that the Artisanal Centre was also closed for prayers, so they caught a taxi back to the house and did not go back there to fetch their parcels. It was lunch time by the time they got back. Fatimah was concocting something quick and they all sat down to a jolly lunch.
On their own in Casablanca, the husbands were coping as best they can. They had booked themselves in a hotel in the Medina which was correct but had little else to offer. They went hunting for food as per recommendation of other South Africans they met there. They got to a tagine made at you watch. After various visits to various offices they had done what they could, and decided to return to Fez. When they arrived they had to be watered and fed. They decided to come back because the containers had to be inspected and the procedures could not be done before Monday.
The plan for the evening was dinner of Thai green curry and moussaka for those who find the curry too hot. Fatimah phoned to say that she was coming back early and Ahmed should get ready to go for a walk with her. I was asked to go too. So, she quickly got the chicken curry on the way. We packed into the car a while later - Ahmed's nose was bleeding profusely. So, instead of a walk, we went for a drive up the hill, past the forest and then stopped by an old hotel with a natural source of water for orange juice. It was peaceful, cooler and different.
Saturday morning, Fatimah dropped us by a taxi and we went back to the Artisanal centre to fetch their parcels and get some more of these wonderful wares. 
Lunch was composed of a grand couscous prepared by Mwe Batoul. She had a couscousière going and we were watching the procedures, helping when we could. Parsley was still missing to complete this whole procedure, so they went to a local market. On the way they ordered a Fez b'stilla and tasted some Moroccan sweets at the patisserie.
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