18 JUL
The old imperial capital of Morocco, Fes or Fez (1912-1956), is a 7hr train raid north-east of Marrakech. It's very much a different place from the hustle and bustle of it's big southern brother, but very much unique in it's own way. On my last visit to Fez back in 2008 I was told that the people of this city view themselves very much as intellectuals, they are the bright sparks of Morocco, or perhaps even the 'upper class' of a rich and diverse country.
On this day my parents, JJ and I, took a ride on the local Moroccan rail line and headed out on a new bearing. Whilst 7 hrs in confined quarters sounds like it may be a drag in all truth it past by relatively quickly. The air conditioning worked intermittently and the cabin that we were in never cooled down to anything that couldn't be regarded as warm but the ever changing landscape outside the window more than made up for that. Moving north from Marrakech you pass through a sparse and relatively arid country for something close to three hours before hitting the coastal city of Casablanca. Just for the record, for anyone that may have romantic notions about what Casablanca offers, recalibrate those thoughts. This city is the business and commercial centre of Morocco and other than a mighty huge mosque that juts out into the Atlantic, it's as boring as batshit. With all due respect, I'm sure it has it's high points, I mean every place in the world has something to offer, but relative to the rest of Morocco, well this is a piece of tofu in comparison to the exotic tagines of Marrakech or Fes.
Hitting Casablanca and heading in a more easterly direction rather than north we pass through the capital of Rabat, then through the town of Sale, and then some other smaller towns where the stops seem to be a little erratic, and then 'IT' happens!
A tallish Moroccan looking man then walks into our cabin, we've just stopped at a place called Sale. He takes the only seat vacant in this six seater cabin and looks around. He chats a little to the Moroccan girl that's sitting next to JJ and then engages us in some good natured banter. He tells us that he's been working in whatever town we've just stopped in and that now he's going back to Fes in order to see his wife and two children. All that this guy is carrying is a large folder which looks as though it's filled with errant pieces of paper, brochures and other paraphenalia. This strikes me as a little odd and immediately I put my 'game face on'. I disengage from the cconversation that he's having with JJ and my parents andstare aimlessly out the window.
The conversation conitunes for a little while and JJ notices that I've shut this guy down, although for the moment she doesn't know why. When the guy gets up and steps out of the cabin for a moment I tell JJ 'I'm not going to be buying anything from this guy', I'm not sure if at that moment she quite knew why I said that. The guys steps back in and then asks us casually, 'So, do you have a taxi from the station'....and now BINGO, his game has commenced. I respond by saying, 'All good mate, our riad has that covered'. He then launches into the facts and figures of Fes, something akin to the Fes Wikipedia lesson, he then asks if we have a guide for Fes and I respond that the riad has organised that also. This guy then pulls out brochures, timetables, tells us how is parents own a riad in the medina and how one day he will inherit it and how sometime in the not too distant past Bono had stayed there. He tells us that his cousin's grandfather is a guide and he can organise us a good tour - dude, not this time, I know your scam and this 'my brother' is not your day. The deal with these guys is usually this, they earn your trust and hook you up with overpriced 'everything', ripping you off from pillar to post. This method of searching out foreignors on trains is a well known scam and something that I'd read about before my last trip. A few minutes later the guy who had 'apparently purchased a first class seat' gets up and leaves - we don't see him again.
Just after Meknes, a place about 40 mins from Fes, another guy gets on, quickly scans our cabin and checks in. He sits next to JJ and whisper, 'Here we go again'. She responds by saying 'Surely not', but yes, another man and another attempt to dupe the tourist. This time a team of four who are alert to his deeds railroad the guy in an instant and he walks away with his tail between his legs. He makes the briefest of returns a little later only to be sent packing by another shady character who I think was trying was the 'good guy' in this 'good cop,bad cop' routine.
Finally after 7hrs we reach our destination of Fes. The searing sun and the accompanying heat are putting us through our own personal trials and tribulations, it had to have been somewhere in the mid 40's, easily. We make our way into the station and then a little while later into taxi's and onto our accommodation, Riad Zamane.
Riad Zamane - Fes - Morocco
Riad Zamane - Fes - Morocco
When we arrive at the riad we're met at the door by a man named Abdul. In the days to come he was to become known as either 'the man' or 'the Moroccan Manuel'. This guy was awesome, nothing was too much trouble, he could organise anything that you required in an instance but strangely also had identical mannerisms to Manuel, the butler in the TV show Faulty Towers. In any case, whichever way he did things it was always 100% on the money. In much the same manner, the riad that we had just walked into was actually better then the one that we stayed in whilst in Marrakech, I knew at that point that our stay here was just going to be a 'hell of a struggle'!
Fes from the roof of Riad Zamane
Sunset from the riad
