FEZ PLEASE

That's what the conductors used to say on the buses when I was a kid. Well, that's what it sounded like to me anyway. Along with "move to the back of the bus" and "you kids stop that" etc. Little did I know that one day I might actually be in the city of Fez, but here I am. The short 200km ride from that blue place whose name I find a lot harder to spell than Fez, was hot. Bloody hot. Most of the time 37-38 deg C, but with an occasional stint of 40. Doesn't matter if you're wearing vented riding gear, its still hot, especially when you're stuck in traffic. So at each stop, off it comes. But the riding, though still crazy dangerous, did get a bit easier. I guess we are getting a bit better at it. We finally rode into the Marriott at Fez, and straight away the parking wallah ran across and ordered everybody to park their bikes back end first up a slope.  What is it with these people? He got the same treatment as the last guy. We are here for two nights, so a chance to catch up a bit. And make the most of the facilities. eg

And do some laundry. I took a photo of that too but well, you know how it is. I'll post it if there's enough demand! Last night for the second night in a row, we arrived late, hot and knackered, and were taken out to dinner with only enough time for a quick shower and change. They eat late around here, and the service is mostly hopeless. So everybody was dehydrated, despite drinking all the water available in the room and my camelback. You have to beat someone to death before they bring you a bottle of water. My tongue felt like a roll of carpet, and I struggled to even speak. Anyway, we now know what to expect and will solve our own problems our own way. And forget beer. You're lucky to get a stubby a day at the rate they serve people. So despite the mass of food that finally arrived just when I was dreaming of breakfast, and the headbanging troupe of musicians (and I use the term very loosely), the belly dancer, and the magician, (who bore an uncanny resemblance to Groucho Marx crossed with Carlos Santana with his trilby hat) and the obvious enthusiasm of the other punters, all mostly whoopin and a'hollerin locals, we failed to get in the groove and sleep was never more appreciated than when we finally got back to the Marriott.

This morning didn't start all that well either. First it was no coffee, then it was the lukewarm dregs of several older pots of the stuff, followed by removal of cups, followed by fresh coffee but no cups. Again, we now know what we're dealing with, so we hope for improvement. 

Later we spent the morning in the labarynthine maze known as the medina, This is the oldest part of the city, and a market, and people live in there. This was freaky, claustrophobic and revolting all at the same time. Especially the meat and fish stalls! You could go in there and never come out, I'm not kidding, if you were crazy enough to go in  there by yourself. Photos to follow later,

The other thing they do in there is treat animal hides for tanning into leather. I had heard of this, and seen photos, although I have to confess I thought that happened in Marrakech. Nothing can prepare you for the stench of this part of the place. As we went in, a guy waved a fistful of foliage in my face. I thought it was just some guy trying to sell something, but it turned out they give every visitor a handful of mint leaves to stick under your hooter. It helped, but nowhere near enough. It was sickening.

The white vats on the left contain limestone. Hides are dumped in there to remove the hair, and then the rancid putrefying residue is scraped off by hand. Then they start the dyeing process using such natural organic materials as urine, pigeon shit, and I can't remember what else. There are guys who stand in these vats all day long dipping their arms in it to move the hides around. But its ok, its all natural they kept saying. The used liquid goes into the river outside, but its ok, its all natural. I think this is the most disgusting thing I've ever seen or smelt. But I've never been to the FBI Body Farm in Tennessee or wherever it is. We were then taken to lunch, but having a fair idea of where they shop, I abstained. (Ok, so I ate some olives).

Oddly enough, the leather products they sell are actually pretty good. Cas even bought some stuff. But it does make you think. I'm starting to like plastic. That's made from really old decayed crustaceans and plant matter. So where's the harm in that? Its ok, its natural.

I took these photos from the vantage point overlooking the vats. Check out the satellite dishes. Also, some of the adjoining buildings. Thank God there was no earthquake today.

Oh, ps. The hotel lost my laundry and sent me a pile of female intimate apparrel in lieu thereof. I'm keeping it. It's never too late!