John recognised the square from his trip with his Manurewa soccer mates in 1975. The horse-drawn carriages, or caleches, are still there waiting for the tourists in the baking hot sun.
In April this year a bomb exploded at the cafe behind this tarpaulined area. Several tourists were killed and now people are wary of visiting Morocco. As we have been in places with no English newspapers, TV, we had to quickly research the internet to learn about the killings. We expected there to be a lot of police around the square and some security checkpoints but there was nothing at all. The locals told us there were not as many tourists as usual but the main season for the European invasion is in July so maybe things will pick up by then. We did however see a few tourists including young families.
In the evening the square is busy with snake charmers, the water sellers in their red hats, men with trained tailless Barbary monkeys, acrobats, and story-tellers who all make money from you when you take photos of them. Groups of musicians play all kinds of instruments; metal castanets, brass pipes, tamborines, as well as traditional two or three-stringed guitars. Locals crowd around the story-tellers who have all sorts of props and costumes to enhance their tales, none of which we can understand as it is entertainment for visiting locals, but you are still asked to make a donation anyway. There are men with rows of teeth they have pulled from desperate and, afterwards, probably grateful victims. The second hand dentures they have will hopefully be sold to someone who needs them. There are stalls of natural therapists with herbs and concoctions to cure all ills. They have dried skins and bones as well as live tortoises, lizards, and chameleons that can mend broken hearts or keep husbands faithful.
Around sunset the mobile food stalls arrive to be set up to cook local dishes and in no time the charcoal grills cover the noisy bustling square in smoke. They compete with the orange juice sellers, dried fruit sellers, restaurants and cafes that line the periphery of the square.
Wrinkled headscarfed old ladies sit in small groups showing photos of their henna designs to all who pass in the hope they can make money from decorating your hands and feet. We met a young Australian girl whose arm was grabbed by one of the women and after a quick scribble to her arm demanded money for the service. We have seen several warnings about henna 'tattoos', as some women use a synthetic carcinogenic additive to make black henna and it can cause burns.
Our riad was in the Medina or old walled-city, a great location, a short walk from the square. We met several young Australian travellers who are doing their OE (Overseas Experience) in the UK and taking advantage of the cheap flights to Morocco.
The place was owned by an English lady and her Moroccan husband. This shot was taken from the top floor looking down to the lounge on the ground floor. It is traditional to have a central courtyard like this. Our room was gloomy with its dark walls trying to hide the moisture leeching behind the walls but it was obvious from the musty smell in the room when the doors were closed. However we only had one night here as we were fortunate to be invited to stay at an apartment owned by Anette from Sweden.
The narrow streets of the Medina.
Anette's apartment is a short bus ride from the square and she uses it to escape the Scandanavian winters that aggravate her arthritis. As she was still in Senegal we had the place to ourselves. Her neighbour is a mountain guide and we hope to be able to do some walking in the Atlas mountains with him later. We enjoyed being able to cook for ourselves and experience life in the suburbs. The local shop keepers were very helpful and seemed to give us a reasonable price for our groceries compared with the service you get in the tourist areas. We were able to give our camping gear a good wash as it will be inspected for bugs, seeds, or soil on our return to NZ. Such unwanteds threaten the bio security of our horticulture and agricultural exports.
The temperature on the day we took the train to Fes.
The beautiful main station building.
The train ride was our first long distance train since we left South Africa. The only other trains we have taken this trip were the ones to get to the fan park in Cape Town. This train was air conditioned and was so much more interesting than the buses as we met lots of different people who sat beside us. In the buses no one seems to chat to you, but in the train they face you or are next to you and it is easy to get a conversation going. These two sisters spoke very little English but we had a great chat. I carry some pictorial books on the Bay Of Plenty where we live and some others showing various places in NZ so they are always a good way to share when we have run out of all we can say and have a long time to spend together. I also have a map that shows where NZ is and it is surprising how many Africans don't know where Europe is in relation to Africa.
