Day 11 - Jay and I took a walk. We were this city in 2010 but, given our age, we're pretty confident we may never return. For our second and final day in Fes, we started with a highly ambitious, completely exhausting 110-meter stroll from our riad to the Bou Inania Medersa. Built in the 1350s by a Marinid sultan who clearly wanted to show off, it is a theological college masquerading as a full congregational mosque. Because the central courtyard is open to heathens like us, we were actually allowed inside to inspect the 14th-century wealth. We spent a good amount of time craning our necks at massive cedar doors dragged down from the Middle Atlas, dizzying geometric zellige tiles, and walls covered in carved stucco that effectively resembles petrified lace.
Down we went. Feeling sufficiently cultured, we surrendered entirely to the medina's gravity well and plunged straight down Talaa Kebira, shuffling past the donkeys and navigating a retail gauntlet that absolutely defies all modern zoning concepts. You transition seamlessly from dodging stacks of artisan soaps and being deafened by the rhythmic hammering of brass and copper vendors, right into dark little plumbing supply stalls. This naturally gives way to overflowing vegetable carts and, eventually, the chaotic squawk of a live chicken exchange. We marched through this entire sensory overload all the way to the bottom of the hill to peek through the massive doors of the Al-Qarawiyyin mosque.
We cheated. Having successfully reached the absolute floor of the ancient city, Jay and I had a startling realization that hiking back up a medieval slip-and-slide in the Moroccan heat, where the maximum temperature today hit a dry 35°C, was a terrible idea. We promptly flagged down a red petit taxi, completely bypassing the internal gauntlet, and enjoyed the perimeter scenery as internal combustion hauled us comfortably back up to the Bab Boujloud gate.
Jay and I miscalculated. Safely back at the top, we confidently returned to the exact same joint that served us a gloriously cheap meal yesterday. Having flagged us as returning patrons, they immediately upgraded us to royal status. The hospitality was aggressive, the spread was vast, and when the bill arrived, we had somehow dropped nearly as much on a medina lunch as we would back home in Canada. It felt fundamentally wrong, but I suppose that is the tax for becoming VIPs in Fes.
We must pack. Now, we must enforce strict backpack discipline and get our gear sorted. Tomorrow at the entirely uncivilized hour of 7:10 AM, we are scheduled to be standing out in front of the Bab for our departure. We are officially leaving the labyrinth to begin our push into the Atlas Mountains and down to the edge of the desert, culminating in a Thursday drop off at a Riad in Marrakech.