Longer article - quick overview:
We stroll through the lively medina, which is right on our doorstep - or rather, on the doorstep of our car. The winding alleyways are a veritable labyrinth where getting lost is part of the programme. But the best thing is: At some point, the medina ends and you simply turn back. Sooner or later we recognise something familiar and find our bearings again. In an emergency, Google Maps also helps, which works surprisingly well here.
Medersa Bou Inania
Suddenly we are standing in front of the Bou Inania and experience a moment of silence. in the middle of the chaos of the medina. This medersa, a Koranic school, is the only one in Morocco that was also allowed to be used as a fully-fledged mosque, including the call to prayer from its own minaret. The Bou Inania was primarily used to study Islamic theology and jurisprudence, but philosophy, grammar and astronomy were also part of the curriculum. It is fascinating to see what was considered important back then, in contrast to today. It was accommodation, a school and a place of prayer - a spiritual microcosm in the centre of the lively old town of Fès.
We step out of the hustle and bustle of the medina through an inconspicuous gate and suddenly find ourselves in a quiet, almost timeless space: the inner courtyard of the Medersa Bou Inania. The marble slabs beneath our feet gleam in the light, in the centre is a rectangular pool of water that captures the ornate facades around us like a mirror.
Our gaze wanders over the artistically decorated walls: carved cedar wood, filigree stucco and colourful Zellij mosaics in floral and geometric patterns. Every surface appears well thought out and full of meaning - nothing seems random here. Between all the ornaments, we discover calligraphic inscriptions: verses from the Koran that quietly remind us of the spiritual function of this place.
A little later, we enter the prayer hall. The room is simple, quiet, almost cool. Somehow restrained. The contrast to the lush inner courtyard has a calming effect. It's nice that we are alone here, because this place demands silence. When we step back into the courtyard, we wonder why we are all alone: The muezzin was calling and we were quickly let in, no one else came after us. So for a brief moment we are all alone in this beautiful place. Once again a gift from this trip.
However, when the worshippers enter, we also have to leave the place and - boom - we are back in the hustle and bustle. Every corner is teeming with sugar-soaked sweets. Lent is probably the time of year when the most sugar is consumed. Even a sweet tooth like me can't eat so many sugar-syrup-soaked baked goods en masse. And that's saying something!
Tanneries and dye works
At some point, we arrive at one of the largest tanneries and dye works in the city of Fez, which is famous for its leatherwork. They are among the oldest of their kind and offer an insight into a centuries-old craft that, we are told, has hardly changed to this day.
We climb a narrow staircase, past carpets and leather bags, and step onto one of the terraces above the tanneries. It's already complicated on the way there: Of course, we are also intercepted here by self-appointed guides. Who is official? Who is allowed to enter? No idea - and it's all pretty confusing. At some point, we just go along.
Our guide hands us each a bunch of fresh mint - which we later hold under our noses, as the smell from the pits below is really hard to bear. We immediately explain that we don't want to buy anything and don't want to visit the salesrooms. He accepts - and later actually complies. Instead, he calmly explains the leather processing procedure in detail.
Below us lies a wide field of round stone pools. Men stand knee-deep in the pits, stamping the hides, turning them over, working intently. First, we learn, the animal skins are cleaned and softened in a mixture of lime, water, pigeon droppings and other natural agents - a process that requires patience and experience. Then they are placed in the dye vats, filled with natural dyes: saffron for yellow, poppies for red, indigo for blue, mint for green. The colours are strong, rich and, when the sun comes out, bright.
The leather from Fès is famous - for its quality and the meticulous craftsmanship with which it is produced. This has been the case for centuries, and yet something is changing. Attempts are now being made to reduce the environmental impact. Some work steps have been moved out of the old town, others are being adapted. For now, however, we see a craft that has survived in its original form - raw, strenuous, but impressive.
Hammam
Now we are tired. So many impressions, so many sounds and smells. We are thirsty for relaxation. And yes, this time it has to be a hammam. We still want to try it once.
We enter the reception area of the hammam and are greeted in a friendly manner. We swap our street shoes for bathing slippers and head to the changing room. A bathrobe that is far too short covers the most important things. (Somehow they don't cater for people around 1.80 metres, we look like we're wearing children's bathrobes, sleeves are too short, well, the rest is definitely designed for small people).
Everything is quiet, subdued and pleasantly warm. Then we are led into the warm steam rooms. Gerd into the men's steam, I into the women's steam. The humid heat hits us gently - my glasses fog up and I can no longer see anything, with or without my glasses. From now on it's all about trust! The heat settles on our skin and breath. We sit down on the preheated stone benches and let the warmth take effect.
A member of staff comes and rubs me with black olive oil soap - Savon Beldi. The soap smells very light, but I notice how it softens my skin. After a short break, the scrub begins. Using a rough glove - the Kessa - the old skin is rubbed off, vigorously and unfortunately also very unpleasantly. Later, Gerd reports something similar. I have the feeling that my masseuse is already suffering from the hunger of fasting and is taking all her grumpy mood out on my body. The more sensitive parts in particular are scrubbed and tossed back and forth. I'm still thinking, hey, you're a woman too, you don't want people to be so rough with you, do you?
However, my skin feels super smooth afterwards, almost like new. I now head to the pool and get several loads of warm water poured over my body to rinse it off. Hair washing included. And I really like that!
Now we come together again, wrapped in a towel and resting on cosy armchairs in the relaxation room. We miss the sweet mint tea, it seems a bit like mass processing here, but what the hell. I can't see anything anyway, so I dream myself into another world.
Finally, we decide to have a massage. Warm argan oil is applied in a separate room, the massage is powerful and wonderful - Gerd will moan for days later, his massage was more like a torture stake - but it was soothing for me. Afterwards we feel heavy and light at the same time - clean, warmed through, relaxed.
We now stroll through the deserted medina, clean as a whistle and relaxed. It's sunset and time to break the fast. People are at home, all the doors are closed. And we stroll alone through winding alleyways to our Felix and fall into our nest, dead tired.
Merci for "travelling with us
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