We lounged around the riad on our last full day in Fès until about noon. It was nice to catch our breath for a bit before heading out for another day of touring.
Duygu was excited to see the old Jewish part of Fès, so we headed back up to Bab Boujeloud and out beyond. We passed through Ensemble Artisenal and the Boujeloud Gardens before hunting for the Mellah. This was definitely a rougher and poorer area than El Bali. The touts were out in force here as well. After dodging the first two, we finally succumbed to a third who led us through an even denser warren of tiny streets to the old Hebrew cemetery and the Ibn Danan Synagogue. We were then lead to where Lalla Solika Hatchouel, a jewess that had caught the eye of Prince Moulay Abderrahman and refused to convert Islam and was subsequently imprisoned and killed for the affront, had supposedly lived.
After some more wandering we were at a shop overlooking an old waterwheel in the river adjoining the Mellah. We begged off of buying anything and rebuffed the attempts to get us into another overpriced restaurant for tourists along with an offer of a home cooked meal that evening. As we prepared to leave the area, our ‘friend’ the student who liked to help foreigners and practice languages turned on the guide demand for money, asking for close to what our official guide had gotten for double the amount of touring. We eventually gave him less than half, to his protestation and assuredly whining behind our backs to another gentleman lounging by the wall nearby.
We passed back through Bab Boujeloud and stopped at Chez Rashid, a little cafe at a shaded bend in the street. The waiter was friendly and they had some variant on pastilla, a local dish consisting traditionally of pigeon with figs and spices in a pastry dusted with powdered sugar and cinnamon. After getting rid of the excess sweet from the top it was quite delicious. The waiter helped guide us on to our next destination, the Medersa Bou Inania. The Koranic school was on par with the one we saw in Marrakech, but not in as good of shape. We lingered for a long while in the calm of the main courtyard, witnessing a bit of activity as the afternoon prayer was called.
We descended lower into El Bali on another one of the bigger streets. Duygu found a store selling argan oil and proceeded to go about making a purchase, getting a rose water and rose water infused mud masque in the course of the transaction.
Further down the street we happened upon an area we recognized a bit from our late night arrival into the city down by the Bab de R’cif. As we headed toward the riad, one of the boys loitering nearby recognized us and said the name of the riad and pointed up the street. We moved that way, slowly looking around. At he next intersection he was in front of us again showing the way. I recognized the next intersection and thanked him. He then pestered us with an offer to take us to a restaurant which we refused. As we neared the riad he demanded money for showing us the way. Duygu got upset and refused and we ducked into the riad, happy to be inside.
We relaxed in the room for a bit before deciding to venture out again for some last shopping. We had not made it very far on our way when we were accosted by another young man wanting to direct us to the medina. We refused and went on our way. He persisted in following us and soon had produced his ‘brother’ who had helped us before. He demanded we pay him and when I save him a coin for his small trouble, his English speaking companion demanded paper money, meaning far more than I ever intended paying. We were able to shake them with angry protestations and threatening them with taking the matter to the police.
Duygu was very shaken by the experience and was not at all interested in shopping after that we wandered back to Bab Boujeloud and down the other street in search of an old slipper shop keeper We had passed earlier. He was not to be found in the early evening, presumably having closed up shop for the night. We did manage to notice the old water clock. Only the wood parts are in place, having been restored 10 years ago. The metalwork is still being examined as no one can ascertain exactly how it works.
We headed back to the riad to beat the gathering dusk. Happily none of the young folks that had pestered us previously were around. We watched the tail end of the sunset from the rooftop. An overcast sky took some of the energy out of the evening as it god a bit chilly.
Over another dinner of harira soup, we talked to a Belgian woman who was traveling around Morocco on her own. She had been organizing activities for retirees before having to leave her position to deal with what seemed to be breast cancer. She beat it 10 years prior, outliving a younger sister similarly stricken. Her son was doing doctoral research on the effects of the climate on plants across Belgium.
