Funky Fes Hostel. For the price I had paid, I was not expecting the spacious lobby and illustrious decor that greeted me when I stepped in. The furnishings were traditional and they created a lovely warm atmosphere for socializing. There was a large dining room, an accessible kitchen, a common lounge, upstairs patios, rooftop terrace, and services such as henna, massage, or shisha.







From the moment I arrived and hopped on a taxi, I could see the dramatic change from the action packed and tourist filled Marrakech to this historical and more traditional city. Instead of the numerous trendy cafes and lounges, you'll find quiet restaurants, a slow ambience, and sights sprawled throughout the city. I joined a morning tour of the medina arranged by the hostel and immensely enjoyed hearing about the past of the city and landmarks as well as cultural customs.


Wall of political parties and symbols below. The symbols are created for the benefit of the high number of illiterate individuals within the population.





Women weaving carpets, one single thread at a time.



Government-funded museum/shop of carpets and weaving.


A photo of the tanneries below. A very unique experience to observe authentic leather being treated but hang tight to the handful of mint leaves the tour guide offers and keep the mint leaves under your nose at all times (unless you'd like to enjoy the scent of dead skin).



An Unnerving Experience
During one evening, I ventured out with a fellow backpacker to the medina to explore our local food and dining options. I was excited to find a long aisle of various vendors selling vegetables, fruits, flatbread, onion pancakes, and baklava, just on the edge of the medina. We sampled various small snacks as we ambled down deeper into the medina. We finally realized that it seemed to be getting dark and decided to retrace our steps back out of the medina and towards our hostel.

This is when things took a disconcerting turn. Although we felt that we were following in precisely the straight line we had walked upon entering the medina, the street seemed to have morphed completely into a swirl of loud shoppers jostling about and completely different vendor stands of jewelry and traditional gowns (which we did not recognize to say the least). We realized that we had somehow gotten astray and began treading in different directions and seeking guidance from locals, uttering repeatedly "Où est la sortie?" People would either look at us with mild confusion and shake their heads and turn away or point in a random direction while articulating words and instructions that we could not make out. Every single turn we made, things looked less familiar and more secluded and run down. Every time we discovered this and tried to retrace our steps, we'd find that the streets looked different and that we were completely disoriented. Finally, a young man approached us and spoke clear English words, "Where are you from? Are you looking for the hostel? Funky Fes? I'll show you."

We were temporarily relaxed and eagerly followed him, expecting to soon step back out into the main streets outside the medina. However, as we traipsed behind him, he strolled faster and faster through winding back corners and alleys until we saw no shops or bystanders. There were crumbling walls, garbage piles, random beams, and narrow dark streets with no lights. I glanced uneasily at my travel mate several times as we struggled to catch up and we exchanged nervous whispers, wondering if we were to be robbed or somehow never heard from again, shrivelled in some unnamed alleyway, lost in this maze of over eight hundred streets behind the medina walls. It was an hour later when we finally rounded a corner and came to a magnificent archway exit and stepped out into freedom. I remember gazing up at the unconfined pitch black sky, feeling dizzy with relief.

While this was a highly alarming experience and the only time I truly doubted my safety in Morocco, I do believe that it is important for travellers not to underestimate these situations and how easily they could occur. Fes is a proud and majestic city but it is also far more difficult to navigate as a tourist due to the spread out nature and lack of other foreigners. Unlike the fashionable souks in Marrakech, rampant with tourists and young locals, the medina and souks in Fes are laid out differently and attitudes of locals appear more traditional. We had been warned earlier by the tour guide that the medina in Fes encompasses a few dangerous neighbourhoods that even locals would not frequent. With this knowledge and experience, I have to stress how important it is to stay within a group and be cautious during hours after dark.

(On a more positive note, the onion pancakes I had in the medina here were the best I've tried in Morocco.)



I hope that my story of that night does not overshadow the impressive history and culture preserved within Fes. My experience in Fes was memorable and filled with warmth by the fellow Canadians, Americans, and Australians I met and instantly bonded with at the hostel. Everyone was incredibly friendly and open about sharing their travel stories as well as news about current events at home. We stayed up long into the night, huddled on the Moroccan sofas in the common room (sipping fresh Moroccan mint tea), discussing where we had been, our hometowns, our studies, and the endless joys, annoyances, and fascinations that life brings everyday. Although we ultimately went our separate ways or returned home to pursue our goals, I can't help but feel that these people have left a significant imprint on my life perspective from the time we spent together.

This post is archived under Morocco, Travel