The blues and an unwanted admirer.
Beppe was there awaiting me at breakfast as he'd overheard my discussion about when I was leaving the next day. He never shut up! I was trying to enjoy my Moroccan fried donut, a non sweet puff of air that I had with jam that was full of big hunks of apricot and the soft cheese. He was going to Chefchaouen as well! Of course he was. He told me he'd be leaving at 11 so I thought I was safe. My driver/guide had arrived at 9 and Beppe suddenly appeared behind me. The manager said he had a brilliant idea - since we were both going to the same place, Beppe should come with me! I was incensed. My driver didn't look too happy either, he must have seen the look on my face as he said he'd have to ring his boss to see what he would charge him.
This is where I needed to have boundaries but I didn't know what to say. Omar, my driver, left a message for his boss and he took my bag and Beppe followed behind us, trying to keep up with his huge back pack and bag, dressed in camouflage pants, matching jacket and lime green scarf! If I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have been amused. I was close enough to my guide to whisper, I don't want this guy coming. He nodded and said he'd sort it. When we reached his car, his phone rang and he relayed an amount that astounded Beppe, he was incensed now. He said he would pay half of my fee but no more! The driver wouldn't accept. I was saved, almost. Beppe slung his backpack back over his shoulder and said: "I'll see you there, it's a small town. Ciao bella!" I got in beside Omar and breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him. He told me that Beppe wouldn't be there till late as the train took a long time.
It was a 3-4 hour drive through parched landscapes, palm trees and tiny communities clinging to hillsides. We stopped at a local market near the border where gourds hung from a stall, boys on donkeys hanging around waiting for a sale and having fun in between time. Baskets of pale pink pomegranates that we buy and try - so sweet. There's another little nut like brown seed with a thin coating that is good for the stomach. Omar takes a bit of everything for me to try and no one says anything. He buys some strung dried figs for our journey.
Then another market stop. This one blew me away. Women in traditional outfits with fantastic hats selling their produce, strings of dried figs surrounding them like jewellery, the odd chicken awaiting it's fate. Sardines grilling on a bbq, bunches of garlic, parsley, herbs fragrancing the air, their perfume released by the relentless heat. Dirt, dust, kids, melons, old men with canes and glorious moustaches and a parking area for donkeys.
Along the roads we pass men and boys with their donkeys attached to carts - they're on their way to get water as there's no water source here. I've stepped back into the time before tractors, men and donkeys plough the fields as we pass by dry arid zones to the lush greenery of fields of olive, orange and pomegranates. We're heading to the Rif mountains, chatting about my guide's life, his young son, the economy. Fez's economy is artisan based, with olive oil, figs, tourism and phosphates.
We arrive at our destination at two and I'm starving. We find a parking spot on the outskirt of the town and Omar gathers our bags and we drop his off at another hotel on the way and we eat at the hotel's restaurant. Lunch is so cheap! A chicken and olive tajine and mint tea for around $6 Australian. He's got a tiny room here for 7 euros, he earns 200 euro a month which is around $300. As we walk out I look down and in the stone floor is a huge ammonite fossil!
Then I'm dropped off to my accommodation which is 70's retro chic but clean and my room upstairs opens onto a terrace with an incredible view. I'm on my own with a few hours to spare before Beppe turns up. The colour of this city is mind blowing for me. The brightness of the whitewashed walls and the startling colour of the different, deep blues that frame everything.
It is so peaceful regardless of the tourist throngs. I see no one, I am attuned to the beauty of this place. No one knows the exact origins of the blue but there are a few theories, including blue being a mosquito repeller! or that it symbolises the sky and heaven and therefore has a spiritual significance.
The cats lazing, the old doors of such beautiful sun drenched hues studded with bronze nails, sacks of powdered coloured paints, craft and art shops everywhere, rugs and tapestries. People lining up at popular Instagram hotspots. If I want to take photos there, I'm going to have to get up early the next morning.
I meet up with Omar as he takes me on a circular walk around the town and up to where the main source of water comes from. People are dressing up in traditional outfits that are for sale to take photos. I want one of the hats but they're too big to take with me.
We wander through the Jewish quarter, past the fountains where people still access fresh water from, tiled and colourful and the centre of village living. We stop at a vegetarian restaurant and go for mint tea on the rooftop. I look down and see Beppe, wandering with a camera almost as big as him! Omar and I have a laugh and make sure when we leave that we go in a different direction.
We dine at Lala Mermousa that Omar has suggested and I ask him to join me as he knows the value of silence, unlike Beppe. This is a family run, old style restaurant in a cave-like dwelling. I have a chicken and prune tajine with cardoons and preserved lemon and a blackberry juice which is the drink to have here. I'm almost teetotal, for the time being anyway. Omar walks me home and I sit on my balcony, editing photos, the heat of the day softening around me.
The next morning, I get up early but the Instragrammers are there before me! Ah well, I find a person free place, hail a passerby and ask them to take a photo for me and then meet up with Omar again as we're moving on today, stopping at some places on our way back to Fez.
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