Early in the morning, we had our coffee and were off to the train station via cab. Once we arrived, one of the cab drivers followed us into the station, trying to get whatever extra money he could. He hit us up individually, talking a good story in English, offering his help and asking for charity. We talked him down as best we could, and continued to our train.
On the train, we settled into standard compartments. I watched the landscape change into desert scenes and sea-salt fields. Camels passed by, ugly and angry, but still fascinating. The man who shared our compartment was a Fes businessman, eager to give advice. He recommended a hotel on the edge of the medina, the "pension dahlia". As we spoke, he surprised me by occasionally jamming his finger up his nose. Damn! It's hard to maintain a conversation when he's digging for nasal treasure...
After one change-over in the middle of nowhere, we arrived in Fes and took taxis to our newly chosen hotel. However, roads only took us to the edge of the medina (old town), so we had to schelp our bags the rest of the way. We could see our destination, as it was painted in lovely striped bold colors, a departure from the barren and beige concrete all around us.
Once we secured our rooms and left our bags, all seven of us dove into the medina for something to eat. Always take your passport with you! The roads had become alleys; far too narrow for cars. Men in turbans matched our pace in the winding corners of the ancient city. We followed Kevin toward whatever lay ahead, with the surroundings of an age 1000 years past. Jesus could have fit right in with the donkeys and sidestreet merchants.
We hit a bigger junction; shops lined both sides of a new street. It was the middle of the day, and the middle of the week. The sun beat down; trading took place all around us, but the crowds were not unmanagable. In our walk, Foltz and I saw a chicken vendor slicing the throat of one of his charges, by means of a hand-held knife. We shortly settled into a cafe next door.
This cafe was casual, to say the least. It was filled with smoke from the cooking fire, which was arranged BBQ-style. Florescent lighting reigned. We drank bottled water and ordered grilled chicken and salad. The language barrier was surpassed to the degree required. We had a bargain, and left happy, even though the place was fairly filthy. Due to the maze-like nature of the medina, I could never find it again. Never, with any amount of money or time.
------
