An Imperial Sunset

            

            If Rabat is a sleepy little administrative city, then Fez is a demanding and exhausting tour de force that pries its way inside of you and tries to force you into submission.  But then at the same time, Fez is a city trapped in its past, unable to adapt to its lost status as Morocco’s political center, which has steadily been shifting to Rabat since the start of the French protectorate.  Now the city relies almost exclusively on tourism for its livelihood, which has the benefit of preserving one of the most incredible medieval cities in the world, but at the cost of restricting the ability of Fessis to adapt to a changing world.  Don’t get me wrong, Fez is still beautiful and stimulating city, both up close and personal when walking through the narrow streets of the old medina and a distance when watching the sun set over the city from a rampart on one of the hills overlooking the city.  To clarify what I mean, here is a brief summary of my encounter with Fez.

            After getting off the bus with the rest of my study abroad group and walking to the gate of the old medina, I quickly found myself about to enter a very different time, where the widest streets are just wide enough for two fully loaded camels to pass by and donkeys are still the most common mode of transportation within the medina’s maze of narrow streets and alleyways.  After just a few steps into the medina, merchants seemed to flock around us and began to call out in French, English, and Spanish (i.e. the languages of foreigners and tourists), trying to entice us to come into their shops to buy their products.  There is some harassment in Rabat, but it is nothing compared to Fez, where merchants will do anything and everything to get a response from tourists passing by to lure them into their shops to buy something.  While waiting for some friends to barter over a leather bag, I was trying to get some idea about the starting price for a leather briefcase from a leather merchant.  After asking him the price of a bag, the merchant quickly pressured me to make an offer of how much I would pay for the bag.  I had no intention of buying the bag, so I didn’t name a price (one should only name a price when serious about buying something) and tried to tell him no thank you and walk away, but he kept harassing me to name a price.  I would still be in that shop right now if it weren’t one of my friends who literally had to pull me out of the shop to get me away from the merchant.  As we were walking away, another Moroccan standing nearby called out, “If you don’t have any money, don’t come here.”  This one sentence encapsulates Fez’s grim future, which is dependent on Western tourists coming to the old medina and spending money – without the income flowing in from tourists, Fez would slowly crumble into ruin after surviving more than 1000 years as one of Morocco’s Imperial cities.  

            But at the same time, Fez is a city full of life, which I experienced firsthand when five friends and I took a taxi to Borj Nord, which was a fortress on the northern hill surrounding Fez and is now an arms museum, to watch the sun set over the city trapped in time from a crumbling rampart.  While walking back into the old medina we somehow got lost (Maybe I shouldn’t have relied so much on my hand-drawn map of Fez for directions), but eventually found our way to Café Clock in the old medina.  It happened to be someone’s birthday, so our waiter led us in singing “Happy Birthday” in four languages (English, French, Arabic, and Spanish) and at the end of our meal surprised us by bringing out a chocolate cake and leading us in singing “Happy Birthday” another few times.  The great food (the best I’ve had in a restaurant since coming to Morocco), the great service, and the great outdoor terrace, all combined to create the most enjoyable and relaxing evening I’ve had in the past 3 weeks.  And for the first time, I actually felt comfortable in Morocco. 

            Fez was a great city to visit, but after spending just 3 days in the former Imperial city, I have to say that I’m glad I’m living in sleepy little Rabat, which is quickly feeling like a home away from home.