Small Town, Large Town and All In-between

Last week was a busy one, classes are now in full swing and if that was not enough I decided to get off campus for a bit. I had been on campus for two full weeks, with occasional trips to Ifrane which hardly counts as really getting off campus.

So it was about time to explore a bit more of the surrounding region, small towns, large towns, and countryside included.

Middle Atlas Mountains

Wednesday I went with a few friends to the nearby towns of Ain Leuh and Azrou. I must admit, I felt very out of place in these small towns. The markets were packed with people, men and women in their traditional garbs and donkeys and horses all competing for the same space. These were certainly areas where foreigners were not often seen, and I felt I was so obviously not Moroccan.

View of Ain Leuh

The experience as a whole was a pleasant one. We ate an amazing lunch from a, quite literal, whole in the wall restaurant with barely enough space for seating. And from Azrou we bought delicious cookies and explored some of the small market place.

Sweets shop in Azrou

While I may not have belonged, I appreciate being given the opportunity to experience an honest view of small town Moroccan life. It was very different than the resort town of Ifrane, and certainly different than any other large tourist destination city.

On Saturday I was able to spend a bit more time in the countryside, partaking in a pastime that Ifrane is known for; skiing. I had never been skiing before, so this would certainly be an experience. And an experience it was, for skiing in Morocco is nothing like anywhere else. I went to Michlifen, a well-known slope.

Now, as I said, I have never been skiing before. But I know if I ever go skiing in the U.S., my experience will be drastically different than the one in Morocco. To gear up I was taken to a stall full of skiing equipment and was fitted with boots and skis that were in no way matching. Nothing matched. But they worked! And that's the important part. Then my friends and I were taken to a bunny hill to be taught how to ski. Though our instructor spoke no English, and just a bit of French, I somehow managed to learn to ski and did not fall once for which I can be proud. Even got two thumbs up from my instructor!

So skiing in Africa? Didn't go too badly!

Then Sunday was Fez day.

Bab Boujeloud was my first introduction to Fez and would be my last sight before leaving. The blue gate was the entrance to a maze of a market place. The city was built on-top of itself, and in the alleys crisscrossing the city at times it seemed the sky far above was only a myth.

Bab Boujeloud

Within the market maze

My group was led through dark side alleys, and then up steep flights of stairs, to get a rooftop view of the tanneries. Large pools of dye spanned out before us, smelling strongly. These were old dye pools, a tradition kept alive at Fez.

We ate on a terrace, looking out over the city of Fez from above with the mosque and distant ruins on the hill acting as focal points in the vast sea of tan buildings.

Coffee and traditional cookies on a terrace

Fez is a mysterious city, circling back upon itself in a twist of alleys and side streets, and more than once we found ourselves somehow back at Bab Boujeloud. Perhaps I will return and attempt to discover more that Fez has hidden.