One of my favorite shows when I was growing up (actually still one of my favorite shows thanks to the entire series now on Netflix), is Gilmore Girls. One of the early running gags of the show was lead protagonist Rory Gilmore's penchant for world travel. A frequently highlighted dream destination was the city of Fez - and when she casually mentions this to her grandfather, all his gifts from then on are envelopes of cash intended for her "Fez Fund."
Such is the ubiquitous, pervasive allure of one of the oldest cities in the entire world. I could list all of the solitary tidbits that distinguish it so singularly, make it so emblematic of any visit to Morocco. "Mecca of the West," "Athens of Africa," "largest car-free urban area in the world," "site of the oldest continuously functioning madrasa (Islamic school) in the world," "site of the oldest continually operating university in the world," and so on and so forth. It is a historic, culturally rich metropolis, but also a bold statement on the endurance of the manmade against the relentless passage of time.
If you'll remember in a previous post, I spoke briefly about my man Moulay Idris I, the first real "king" of Morocco. After establishing a small namesake town in the mountains, converting and rousing enough support from the numerous Amazigh tribes in the area, Idris I was elected their leader and founded Fes as his capital in 789. The city grew immensely after the Arab expulsion from Cordoba in 817 and in the 781 years of Catholic Reconquista that followed, as Muslim refugees from Andalusia in Spain poured into the Maghreb and settled in Fes. It changed hands multiple times, from family to family, dynasty to dynasty, each sultanate overseeing expansions and suffering destruction of the city's walls and fortifications. Under the Malvoravids and the Marinids however, Fes entered its golden age of both cultural and economic development. It became an important center of trade between Ottoman merchants in the east and the Portuguese and Spanish on the North African Barbary Coast. It built a reputation for Maliki legal scholarship and jurisprudence, flowering in its multicultural and interfaith heritage. Fes was also the capital of Morocco until 1925, when it was replaced by Rabat.
As it is winter in Morocco, our constant companion is rain. Fes was no different. It sits between two mountain ranges, the Rif and the Atlas. The medina itself is sunken deep in the valley, and exploring the massive old city was like descending into a dark, cavernous, labyrinth, especially with the cloudiness of the day darkening what little light we did have. The networks of secret passageways had me almost convinced that I would run into members of a secret revolutionary society passing clandestine messages through the narrow, streets. But then at times we would pass a neighborhood barber shop, alight with masculine laughter, hidden only by a curtain. Or hear that always familiar Meditel ad jingle from a not so distant television, hidden away in some dwelling. Or suddenly run into a schoolgirl emerge from the door of her house - a door we had no idea was even there. The idea that the medina was inhabited by conspiring revolutionaries melted away, replaced by the realization that it is itself a large, primarily residential town, with its own ecosystem of shops and schools and cafes. And unlike the other, more contained of Marrakech and Rabat, Fes's medina has separate communities within its walls - the mellah, a historically Jewish quarter, an Andalusian neighborhood separated from the Arab neighborhood by a river, all artifacts hearkening of Fes's multicultural and multiethnic past.
There is evidence like this everywhere, the oldest operating madrasa, the Bou Inania Madarasa, in the world is casually tucked away on a bustling shopping avenue - if you didn't know where to turn, you'd miss it. A guide is a necessity to navigate through all these living, breathing, relics. Similarly hidden in plain sight are the stairs to the famed leather tanneries of Fes - the sight that covers all the guidebooks and travel magazines advertising Fes. Climbing up three narrow flights of steep stairs, you're greeted by men with bunches of mint for your nose to mask the pungent odor of the dye and leather.
This is symptomatic of Morocco, the seamlessness of historical relic and modern, daily life. We encountered a similar fluidity in Marrakech, but of a less appealing variety. Perhaps because unlike Marrakech, almost all of Fes seems untouched, while its modernization seems organic, happening and yet leaving the history undisturbed. I actually loved Fes, a lot. After Rabat, it may just be my favorite city in all of Morocco. The craftwork capital of the country, it boasts of artisans of all kinds - weavers, metalworkers, and of course leatherworkers. Fes, to me, has everything one would want in a home - a fashionable ville nouvelle, or new city, with shopping malls and cafes. It is a cultural hub and positively dripping with legacy as an ancient capital. And it is stunning, particularly from the geographic vantage point of the forts overlooking the valley from the north and south.
I travelled to Fes with my family, which really was a completely different dynamic in relation to how I was used to exploring Morocco. A luxurious lifestyle of riad living, constant and reliable shower pressure, driving in a car, these were all things afforded to me by my family's presence. I'm quite lucky to have experienced Morocco in such a myriad of ways. Once again I was reevaluating my privilege and all the ways in which it is expressed and plays out.
Full disclosure, I am actually in the United States. I've been home for almost a week now, so these posts are coming from a place of distance and reflection. I wonder if that will change my quality or tone, whether imperceptibly or obviously. I'm also currently mulling over the question of whether to continue this blog once my travels (and reflections of said travels) are complete.
For now, Merry Christmas Eve, from North Africa and Naperville.
Such is the ubiquitous, pervasive allure of one of the oldest cities in the entire world. I could list all of the solitary tidbits that distinguish it so singularly, make it so emblematic of any visit to Morocco. "Mecca of the West," "Athens of Africa," "largest car-free urban area in the world," "site of the oldest continuously functioning madrasa (Islamic school) in the world," "site of the oldest continually operating university in the world," and so on and so forth. It is a historic, culturally rich metropolis, but also a bold statement on the endurance of the manmade against the relentless passage of time.
If you'll remember in a previous post, I spoke briefly about my man Moulay Idris I, the first real "king" of Morocco. After establishing a small namesake town in the mountains, converting and rousing enough support from the numerous Amazigh tribes in the area, Idris I was elected their leader and founded Fes as his capital in 789. The city grew immensely after the Arab expulsion from Cordoba in 817 and in the 781 years of Catholic Reconquista that followed, as Muslim refugees from Andalusia in Spain poured into the Maghreb and settled in Fes. It changed hands multiple times, from family to family, dynasty to dynasty, each sultanate overseeing expansions and suffering destruction of the city's walls and fortifications. Under the Malvoravids and the Marinids however, Fes entered its golden age of both cultural and economic development. It became an important center of trade between Ottoman merchants in the east and the Portuguese and Spanish on the North African Barbary Coast. It built a reputation for Maliki legal scholarship and jurisprudence, flowering in its multicultural and interfaith heritage. Fes was also the capital of Morocco until 1925, when it was replaced by Rabat.
As it is winter in Morocco, our constant companion is rain. Fes was no different. It sits between two mountain ranges, the Rif and the Atlas. The medina itself is sunken deep in the valley, and exploring the massive old city was like descending into a dark, cavernous, labyrinth, especially with the cloudiness of the day darkening what little light we did have. The networks of secret passageways had me almost convinced that I would run into members of a secret revolutionary society passing clandestine messages through the narrow, streets. But then at times we would pass a neighborhood barber shop, alight with masculine laughter, hidden only by a curtain. Or hear that always familiar Meditel ad jingle from a not so distant television, hidden away in some dwelling. Or suddenly run into a schoolgirl emerge from the door of her house - a door we had no idea was even there. The idea that the medina was inhabited by conspiring revolutionaries melted away, replaced by the realization that it is itself a large, primarily residential town, with its own ecosystem of shops and schools and cafes. And unlike the other, more contained of Marrakech and Rabat, Fes's medina has separate communities within its walls - the mellah, a historically Jewish quarter, an Andalusian neighborhood separated from the Arab neighborhood by a river, all artifacts hearkening of Fes's multicultural and multiethnic past.
There is evidence like this everywhere, the oldest operating madrasa, the Bou Inania Madarasa, in the world is casually tucked away on a bustling shopping avenue - if you didn't know where to turn, you'd miss it. A guide is a necessity to navigate through all these living, breathing, relics. Similarly hidden in plain sight are the stairs to the famed leather tanneries of Fes - the sight that covers all the guidebooks and travel magazines advertising Fes. Climbing up three narrow flights of steep stairs, you're greeted by men with bunches of mint for your nose to mask the pungent odor of the dye and leather.
This is symptomatic of Morocco, the seamlessness of historical relic and modern, daily life. We encountered a similar fluidity in Marrakech, but of a less appealing variety. Perhaps because unlike Marrakech, almost all of Fes seems untouched, while its modernization seems organic, happening and yet leaving the history undisturbed. I actually loved Fes, a lot. After Rabat, it may just be my favorite city in all of Morocco. The craftwork capital of the country, it boasts of artisans of all kinds - weavers, metalworkers, and of course leatherworkers. Fes, to me, has everything one would want in a home - a fashionable ville nouvelle, or new city, with shopping malls and cafes. It is a cultural hub and positively dripping with legacy as an ancient capital. And it is stunning, particularly from the geographic vantage point of the forts overlooking the valley from the north and south.
I travelled to Fes with my family, which really was a completely different dynamic in relation to how I was used to exploring Morocco. A luxurious lifestyle of riad living, constant and reliable shower pressure, driving in a car, these were all things afforded to me by my family's presence. I'm quite lucky to have experienced Morocco in such a myriad of ways. Once again I was reevaluating my privilege and all the ways in which it is expressed and plays out.
Full disclosure, I am actually in the United States. I've been home for almost a week now, so these posts are coming from a place of distance and reflection. I wonder if that will change my quality or tone, whether imperceptibly or obviously. I'm also currently mulling over the question of whether to continue this blog once my travels (and reflections of said travels) are complete.
For now, Merry Christmas Eve, from North Africa and Naperville.
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