I feel like this post should be entitled I hate Marrakesh (and that is putting it mildly). Or, as I have heard from others, "The best part about Marrakesh is leaving." After saying goodbye to my friend, I prepared myself for the known chaos and ventured out of my riad. I wandered the medina and end up in the souk and am instantly hit up by aggressive salesmen selling mainly cheap junk available everywhere for far too much money. The teenage boys are following me around trying to give me bad directions and get me lost. I try to ignore them, but they are persistent. I duck in to small shops with business owners that seem nice and do not pester me. The streets are dirty and wider than in Fes, and filled with choking exhaust, as they allow motorbikes in the medina here and people are constantly zipping behind you (along with the usual hand drawn carts and donkey drawn carts). Sometimes the motorbike drivers are polite, but others will sometimes intentionally closely cut you off and laugh about it. I don't see much of anything I would really want to buy. The stuff mainly seems cheaply made and of lesser quality than the stuff I was seeing in Fes and elsewhere. I tire of the constant harassment from boys and men alike, making rude comments or sucking or kissing noises and occasionally attempting what they think is a subtle grope. And it appears any hint of a smile or eye contact is viewed as an invitation to be taken advantage of. But there are also terrible tourists about, wearing totally inappropriate clothing of bare shoulder tight half tank tops and shorty shorts stopping everywhere to take selfies for their perfect instagram shot. Or tour groups of 40 people being led about by someone waving a flag in everyone's face as the group meanders and blocks the way for all others in the narrow streets. I start heading back around 5pm as I know I will get lost and the sun sets around 7:30pm. I have been told by just about everyone that I should not be out alone after dark.
I grab a quick dinner at Jemma el-fnaa, the famous Marrakesh square with the snake charmers and people with monkeys and endless fruit juice stands and food stalls. If you take out your camera anywhere near the snakes or monkeys, someone runs up demanding for money. I have also heard some of the snakes have had their fangs removed or mouths sewn mostly shut and the snakes are often starved until they dance in response to the music. The monkeys are shoved in dirty little cages and pulled around roughly by a chain around their neck. No thanks. I got lost on my way back to the riad and am followed all the way back by a bunch of obnoxious teenager boys, leaving me in tears of frustration by the time I get back to my riad. A guy in the neighborhood tries to help me and a sweet, young girl who saw me earlier and knew where I was staying takes me back to the riad, allowing me to ditch the followers. The person in the riad is sympathetic, but speaks little English and can only say "Don't talk to boys." Luckily, I get an email from the American couples I met in Village Anguelz and they have us scheduled for a cooking lesson/demo with lunch the next day.I meet Carolyn, John, Glenn, and Alex (the people from Port Townsend who stayed the first night at my kasbah in Village Anguelz) at Cafe France in Jemma el Fnaa the next morning after a little walk around. Carolyn owns a riad about a 20 minute walk from the square. It is beautifully decorated, much stuff she says she bought at the junkyard. It seems most of the stuff I would want to buy is actually in the junkyards. Old wooden doors, large metal lamps, painted doors and furnishings, etc. But all too big to get home. We discuss the real estate in Marrakesh and there appears to be many foreigners buying old riads to rent out, displacing the many families there and making it unaffordable for locals to live in the city. Carolyn tells the fabulous story of how she came to buy the riad. She and her husband come for a few months every Spring and Fall and at least they try to help some of the local women and kids of the neighborhood. She used to offer a cooking demo, and has arranged for a trip for us to the local market to buy produce and then cook. We meet Fatima, who speaks no English. We plan to make a vegetable tangine, as Alex is a vegetarian. We head out shopping, as Fatima carefully picks out the produce from the many vendors and haggles the price. I can't imagine how exhausting it would be to haggle the price of ingredients any time I shopped. We head back to Carolyn's riad with shopping bags full of produce.
We watch Fatima work her magic in the kitchen, throwing in spices and cooking. Not much chance to help or learn other than by watching, as I know no Arabic and she no English. But I tried to smell the spices and watch how she prepared things. After a few hours, lunch is served. Beets, salad, and eggplant with pepper followed by the main course of vegetable tangine. 
All of it was very delicious and it was a nice way to spend the day in a city I don't love for 250 dirham. After lunch, they walk me back through the medina to the square. On the walk back, a boy picks up a sleeping cat and threw it at Glenn's back for no reason. Who even DOES that?!? The local shop owners and nearby men just shrug and say "boys." Yup, ill behaved, disrespectful boys that grow up to be ill behaved, disrespectful teenagers, as no one here seems to have any desire to correct poor behavior. Did I mention I hate it here? It is over 100 degrees today and I head back to my riad, thankful to be greeted with mint tea and some chocolate bread. I thought I only had two nights here, but realized I had three and extremely regret turning down the chance to attend a Berber wedding for this place (my friend also sent me a message that his family wondered why I didn't stay).
The next day, I just explored Marrakesh, trying to find things I liked about it. There is supposedly a huge garden associated with Yves St. Laurent, but I decide against the trip as I usually enjoy architecture and history over gardens. First, I visited the Saadian Tombs, which were rediscovered via aerial photography in 1917, after being abandoned for centuries. Nice architecture, but crowded and long lines to see the main tomb room (even being there when it opens). 
I wandered a bit more and decided to go to the El Badi Palace. It was interesting place to wander with partial mud brick ruins, a museum, gardens, and of course, cats to play with. It was also large enough to not feel too crowded and I spent a few hours exploring it all. It was especially fun to watch all the large storks,
who make fun noises with all their squawking and flying overhead. There is a nice upper terrace with a view over to a nearby mosque and the storks lined up in their large nests. Afterwards, I wandered around again. Was going to go to Bahia Palace, but even the line to buy the entrance ticket was long, and I didn't feel like waiting in the hot sun.I set off through neighborhoods in the medina, wandering little markets and looking around, trying to avoid being hassled. But of course, some young boy singled me out and started following me, trying to tell me directions to things. I politely told him that I was not heading any where in particular. He continued following me and was becoming more aggressive and rude. Finally, I turned around and told him I was not interested in his "help" and to please stop following me. He gets in my face, hurling insults and calling me "crazy." Oh little boy, you have NO idea how crazy I am about to go on your @ss... luckily, a bunch of locals pulled him away and sent me in a different direction, as one older man gestured he was sorry. I realize I have to get out of this city. I was going to head to the photography museum for lunch at the cafe, but happen to run in to Carolyn, John, Glenn, and Alex on their way to lunch at a tangine place they had recommended the previous day. I end up joining them for a delicious lamb tangine. It is now hovering around 103 degrees, and I decide to call it a day and just be done with Marrakesh. I head back through the souk and head back to the riad. As I wander, I witness a bunch of teenage boys on their motorbikes side swipe an old man trying to sell little glass bottles and trinkets, sending his stuff flying as they laughed. I stop to help him pick everything up (some of which was damaged). He offers me one of the little perfume bottles and refuses to take no for an answer. I finally reach my riad and have tea and relax in my air conditioned room for a few hours and then head out for dinner. There is a woman in the residential area of my riad that always smiles at me and makes basic sandwiches on a grill that smell great every time I walk past. I stop in for dinner and there is another woman finishing up her meal that helps me order, as the owner speaks no English. I sit on the plastic table outside and enjoy my kefta and egg sandwich. On my walk back to the riad, a few girls run past me, playing hide and seek with some neighborhood boys. One of the girls tries to hide behind me, and once I figure out what she is doing, I hide her in my long scarf, as we time our walking together. The boys run right past her and she smiles and giggles in delight. Later, I help her cheat from the rooftop terrace of my riad, as I can see and then point to where the boys are hiding.
The next day, I can't wait to leave. I catch a taxi to the CTM bus terminal and get on the bus to Essaouira. It is mainly tourist and the bus takes 3.5 hours with one stop in a kitschy bus stop with overpriced food and drink and souvenirs. The stops by the CTM company buses are quite different, depending on the bus route (hanging goat carcasses at one stop, made-in-China plastic Morocco keychains at another). I watch for the famous goats that climb trees in such of argan nuts, but I hear they are really only out earlier in the day (unless chained to the trees as a tourist thing). On arrival to Essaouira, I immediately love the city. I walk to my hotel without getting lost, not because somewhere in Morocco finally decided to use street signs, but because I can navigate using the sea. I check in to my swanky hotel (only other hotel since Casablanca, which I booked since I didn't know if I wanted to lay out in a bathing suit at the pool).
I head out for a walk along the beach to the walled part of the city and medina and everyone is nice again, with smiles and bon jours without wanting anything in return. The sea breeze washes all the Marrakesh negative energy off me and I immediately feel relaxed. There is street murals and little artistic things all around. I am getting hungry, so end up at a fish stall (#11) by the port for a little snack. I pick out six sea urchin for 30 dirham. 
I chat with one of the guys that works there who grew up in Essouira as I watch people fishing along the jetty wall. He takes me on walk through the port and shows me all the seafood being sold, anything from shark to eel to sardines. We stop and chat with people and then head back. He goes back to work and I go off wandering again, exploring the medina. 
The medina is small and easily manageable, but surrounded by 18th century seafront ramparts that are fun to walk around. There seem to be two main streets full of stuff you see all over Morocco (lamps, shoes, rugs, pottery, argan oil, etc.). But there are all kinds of little side streets full of good stuff like little book stores, artists painting, wood carvers, antique stores, and independent art galleries. 
Store owners aren't aggressive, but seem to just be proud of what they are selling and want you to look, whether you buy or not. It is nice that you can browse without being hassled. I choose a restaurant to eat dinner because an eager cat brought me in, purring and jumping up on my leg. The cat was right, the food was delicious! I had squid stuffed with ground meat in tomato sauce with couscous. The cat comes and tries to sit with me, but the owner shoos him away, saying he will try to get on the table. When I ask if it is his cat, he says "no, I fed the cat 7 years ago and he never left." Ha! He tries to seem annoyed by it, by I see him giving him pets and food here and there.... totally his cat. I walk back to the hotel in the dark and it feels nice and safe.
I wake up early the next morning and walk around the medina again. I check out the food and produce market. There is also an indoor fish market, for those not shopping at the port. Again, people are friendly and nice, and the town is so small, I start running in to people I saw the day before. A cat at a store jumps on my lap and goes to sleep. So I sit and chat with the owner a while, because the cat just looks so comfy and content. I get a quick lesson on spices from another shop owner before he sends me to a nearby spot for cheap coffee and breakfast (not included at hotel). I had heard about a cheese place called La Fromagerie about 20 minutes out of town, in the countryside with a farm that makes their own cheese and has a price fixe lunch. I see a taxi driver, who wants 150 dirham to take me there. I know I can get it cheaper. Walk to the other side of the medina and get a taxi for 50 dirham. 
There is nothing else out there. I save the taxi the trouble of driving down the rough dirt road and volunteer to just get out and walk. I arrive and the place is empty but beautiful! The owner comes out and chats with me for a few minutes before I settle in for a delicious lunch. I decide to splurge, as I am down to just a few more Moroccan meals, and get the lamb. There are cheese and olives to start and then some sort of fried cheesy bread with something that is like toasted alfalfa sprouts. Then comes a small eggplant dish with tomato sauce and cheese, followed by a huge salad of butter lettuce with apples, nectarines, pomegranate and goat cheese in rosemary vinaigrette. And then the main course of the most tender, falling apart lamb with green beans and zucchini spiced with salt and cumin.
And then the finale, a cheese plate full of several kinds of goat, cow, and/or camel cheese. Sufficiently stuffed, I contemplate how to get back to the city. They could have called me a taxi, but it would be anywhere from another 50-100 dirham. So I walked back to the main road, and then headed towards the busier traffic circle I had seen on my way there. Figured I could use the walk and I might luck out and see some goats in trees. Sadly, all I saw along the walk were a few cars and a VERY large bull on the unfenced side of the road that stared me down. As luck would have it, as soon as I made it to the traffic circle, a shared taxi passed and I flagged them down. Paid 10 dirham back to the gare routiere and then walked back to the medina. The enjoyable half day experience was around $35, and totally worth it. Wandering around again in the walled medina, I stumbled across Cooperatives Artisanal near the south bastion. I walked in because it was a nice, quiet courtyard. There were a few workers in there and they showed me an old tree (over 250 years old I think is what they were trying to tell me?). Towards the back, a guy was hand painting the wooden doors that I love. Impractical for me as the colors wouldn't match my house and a door would be almost impossible to get home. But after talking to the guys, they told me to wait and went and grabbed a piece to show me. It was what looked to be a wooden shutter, painted in more muted browns, burgundies, and golds. It was long, but I thought it just might fit in my big backpack. He asked for 300 dirhams, which I thought it was well worth, but I didn't have the cash on me after my afternoon cheese adventure. He dropped it to 250, to which I kept trying to explain I really was out of cash (I rarely carry a lot of cash on me). He asked how much I had on me and I opened my little fox purse. All I had left on me was 120 dirham and some coins. He said he really wanted me to have it and sold it to me for 130 dirhams. 
I LOVE it and it just BARELY fit in my backpack if I unzipped the bottom divider. I went back to see my cozy cat from earlier that day and had some tea. The shop owner invited me to dinner, but I was still full from lunch. I stopped by fish stand, had a coke and watched the sunset. The guys at fish stall #11 seem to know all the nearby cats, feeding them and knowing what each ones favorite seafood snack is (one loves mussels, another sardines, etc.). It gets windy and kind of cold after the sun sets, and i head back to the hotel.In an update to my previous travel note from Fes, I received an email from the dar I stayed with, apologizing profusely for the overly aggressive night employee. They stated the employee had only been there two months and they showed the owner my review and the employee has now been fired. She also mentioned that as a female, she would also would not have appreciated it and did not like that it happened to me, apologizing yet again. I found the email to be sincere and heartfelt, and would not hesitate to recommend Dar Al Kadima for anyone heading to Fes.
Sadly, it is my last full day in Essaouira. I had heard about the ruins, both of an old lighthouse/watchtower and an old palace, about 3 km toward Diabat down the beach which is visible at low tide. It is argued that this is the namsake to Jimi Hendrix's "Castles Made of Sand". I look at the tide table and see that it will still be low tide around 8am or so. I set out early and enjoy the nice walk along the beach, as a few people exercise or walk their dogs. At the south end of Tagharte beach, I find the ruins. Clamber around on them for a bit and then set off to try to find the other ruins of a palace called the Dar Sultan or the White House.
I am not exactly sure where it is, so head up over some sand dunes and wander around. There are a few packs of dogs, which I avoid (and maybe bark back at a few of them, making them run off). I start to see ATV tracks and figure they have been to the ruins, so follow the tracks and play with scarab beetles along the way. Sure enough, I find the old palace.
It is mostly covered by sand with some areas still peeking out to run around on or on top of. I also take a quick peek around the nearby town of Diabat, but it is still early and most everything is still closed (including the Jimi Hendrix cafe). I head back, passing the people who rent camels setting up on the beach and windsurfers ant ATV drivers heading out. I had plans to meet up with Mourad from the fish stall for coffee before he starts work, but I am a bit late. He had offered to show another tourist around and take them to buy spices. I join them and we go to a spice store. They sell both spices and herbal medicines, and even have a little glass jar with leeches. The spice guy makes me his own blend of Berber coffee (coffee with cinnamon, nutmeg, and other spices blended in). They are taking a while longer, so I go off wandering on my own. I walk around the old Jewish quarter and down the little maze of streets, doing a little more shopping. I recognize several people at this point, and find myself stopping to talk to everyone I have met over the last few days. I go back to one of my favorite little stores full of hand picked art, antiques, and art painted by one of the owners. I purchase a little painting of the hand of Fatima for the woman cat sitting for me at home. I wander back to the fish stall and we make dinner plans with Mourad and one of his co-workers for fish tangine. Mourad and I shop for supplies, getting a fresh fish from the sellers at the port and then heading to the produce market for vegetables and supplies. Mourad knows people at a restaurant and they take the supplies to cook our dinner. Later that evening after the fish stall closes for the night, I meet up with them and head to the restaurant. They took the ingredients and baked them in to a fabulous dinner, which we all share in the closed bar area.My last morning, I set out for my last wander around Essouira and say my goodbyes. I head back on the CTM bus to Marrakesh. And once I arrive in Marrakesh, the scams start right back up again. The taxi drivers all work together at the CTM bus erminal, and they want 200 dirham to take me back to my riad, the exact distance that cost me 20 or 30 dirham a few days ago. They yell at each other not to take me when I refuse. Luckily, I get several others I met on the bus who speak French to negotiate for all of us, and my portion of the shared ride comes out to around the 30 dirham it should be. I drop my stuff back at my riad and pick out a restaurant for my last real meal in Morocco. I choose a nearby restaurant called La Table de la Kasbah with a rooftop deck overlooking a mosque. There is bread with delicious tapenades made with a variety of olives to start (spicy, black with rosemary, green with garlic and lemon). I first order the seafood tangine with coconut milk, which they say has mussels, calamari, shrimp, and other seafood, thinking I can just eat around the mussels (I am allergic to them). Sadly, it comes out and it is almost all mussels. The server sees me picking at it and realizes the issue (I had asked about the mussels before ordering). He is super accommodating and lets me pick something else out instead and I chose the lamb with artichoke tangine. The food was spectacular, as was the service. Head back to finish packing and take an early flight back home in the morning, with stops in Amsterdam and Salt Lake City.
And now, my Moroccoan adventures are over and I am back home. Started my new job as a jail nurse two days after I returned, so this last email is late getting out. I did manage to go through my thousands of pictures and Trip Photos are up online.
Love,
Betsy
Arriving in Ait Ben Haddou around mid day, it is crawling with big tour buses that make a stop here on the way to or back from the desert. I had decided against a trip to the desert as I have already done deserts in Egypt, Jordan, and Namibia and have never stayed in kasbahs. So this leg of my trip was focused on staying in kasbahs. My kasbah, Kasbah Tebi, was inside the mud brick Ait Ben Haddou, a place where apparently some filming of Game of Thrones and Gladiator occurred. The kasbah has electricity in the kitchen/dining area, but the rest is lit by candle light. While it was worth stopping to see, I have to say, I do not much like Ait Ben Haddou. 
It is super touristy with very aggressive sales people and less friendly people than I have met elsewhere. Everything is overpriced, nearly double what I have seen elsewhere. I find a sandwich shop with reasonable prices and play with a friendly cat. I did find a very nice man named Mohammed in the village who runs a small tour company called 
The next morning, I get up at sunrise when it is still cooler and chase a bird of prey along the dry river bed, avoiding the territorial, aggressive wild dogs that seem to occupy the river bed. The surrounding mountains do not make for a very good sunrise. I walk around before the shop owners set up and all the tour groups arrive. 
I climb up to the top of hills and enjoy the desert views. And then I watch a few shop owners arrive to set up shop, play with a few of their cats while they are working, and then head back to the kasbah. I eat a quick breakfast (not one of the better breakfasts I have had) and notice some adorable kittens to play with. 
I am nervous about getting to my next destination, as the hotel tells me I will have to catch a private taxi, which would likely be pretty expensive. Mohammed had mentioned that was not true, and that minibuses takes villagers back and forth to Ouarzazate and stop in front of his house/shop around 11am or early afternoon. The first few are full by the time they hit Ait Ben Haddou and head towards the villages. So Mohammed, being as helpful and friendly as always, calls one and reserves me a spot to my next kasbah accommodation.
The minibus is packed full of people, filling the seats and then filling plastic stools placed between the seats. These minibuses run back and forth through the main road through the mountains, making lots of village stops along the way. As we drive up in to the mountains, we pass many goat and sheep herders and people carrying loads by donkey. There are no tour buses, few cars, and occasional groups of tourists on motorbikes, enjoying the curvy road. 
I am pretty sure that movie Babel was filmed on this or a similar, nearby road when Brad Pitt's wife gets shot. Spoiler alert... I did not get shot. Oh, and if you haven't seen that movie, don't bother. It starts getting cooler as we head up and I finally reach my kasbah. I couldn't have been happier. It is basically a little slice of paradise. 
The room is huge with an entry way, bathroom, large room with desk and old books to read, beautiful art sketches hanging on the wall, and a few paintings of a famous Moroccan artist Marjorelle who apparently used to stay in this kasbah to paint many of his paintings of the villages in the High Atlas Mountains. I can see why, as the mountains look like a painting with red, green, and white rock and little mud brick villages. The owner does not speak English, but is such a kind man. There are only a few rooms, as he is working on fixing up his family kasbah. 
There is a wonderful terrace to enjoy the clean mountain breeze and look out over a green oasis of crops, the mountains and other villages. Donkeys bray, chickens ran around, and sheep bleat in enclosures of nearby mud houses. I go for a walk down the road in to the village and beyond for a few hours and everyone smiles and says bonjour. Kids play by the road and shake my hand and giggle. Women wave as they are washing their clothes in the river. I find a soccer field surrounded by mountains where I am passed by several men and kids on donkeys. One stops and mainly speaks french (along with Berber and maybe Arabic) but asks where I am staying. He seems to be going slowly ahead of me, making sure I am okay. Eventually he stops and offers me a ride on the donkey back to the hotel, but I thank him profusely and gesture that I will walk. When I get back, the kasbah owner is very excited. "Two couples from Seattle are here!!" As luck would have it, two couples just arrived and saw my name before theirs in the registry (they are actually from Port Townsend). They are doing a project with a woman who lives in the village.
The next morning after breakfast, the kasbah owner is also heading to Telouet for the weekly market. He calls us a shared taxi and shows me the way to Kasbah Glaoui, also known as the Palace of Glaoui or Telouet Kasbah. When I arrive, the Palace is still locked, but someone opens it up for me. It is only 20 dirham to enter, and they try to get you to go with a guide, but I was told by my kasbah owner not to use a guide. 
It is fantastic inside! It was built in the 18th and 19th centuries as a home to the Glaoui family, on the caravan trade route from The Sahara to Marrakech and near the salt mines. The family fell from grace after helping the French and is considered a traitor to Morocco by some. Parts of the palace have been ransacked, but the tile work and space is still breathtaking. 
After about an hour in it alone, small private tours arrive and then big tour buses, when I make my exit. I walk down to the town of Telouet to check out the weekly Berber Souk. It is small but chock full of anything you could need. Clothes, shoes, housewares, electronics, produce, and butchers (with little goat hoofs on the ground). Walking around, I hear "Elizabeth!" and see my kasbah owner and we catch a taxi back. In the heat of the day, I read my book and take a little afternoon snooze. i am woken up by "Elizabeth! Come." I follow and am greeted by his wife and village woman who helps cook and clean. We all sit down and share a meat tangine for lunch, scooping it out of the large communal tangine dish using pieces of bread as forks. They speak berber (there are three berber dialects, one in the Rif Mountains, one in the Atlas Mountains, and one in the Sahara). I am constantly reminded "Elizabeth, eat" when too preoccupied by the television (haven't had one on in weeks). Their kindness and hospitality makes me feel like family. He phones his daughter, who speaks English, and she translates for us about public transportation options and approximate costs and times for the next day to get to Marrakech, saying to let him know which works best and he will arrange for me. A private tour of four people from France check in, but they don't seem all that friendly. Heavenly smells start emanating from the kitchen below my room and I join the wife and cook in the kitchen, and they pull up a chair so I can watch them prepare my chicken tangine for dinner. While we can't understand each other, there is much gesturing and giggling. I enjoy my delicious berber tangine with chicken, onions, tomatoes, olives, and preserved lemon. I go tell the cook it was wonderful and she hugs and kisses me on the head. I get a message from Mohammed in Ait Ben Haddou that he and a friend are driving to Marrakech in the morning and they can come pick me up and take me instead of me fussing with shared taxis or buses at 6am. There are no stars that night, as storm clouds roll in, but beautiful to watch the far away lightening storms in further mountains as berber music plays from a village across the oasis.
Two sweet women help me translate the Arabic to know when to be back at the when we make stops (they were grateful as I switched seats so that they could be together). Another stop was made in a town called Ouazzane. We drive through many farming areas with goat herders and donkey carts and people selling produce such as tomatoes and pumpkin like squash. Head through the Rif mountains and arrive around 8pm. Take a taxi to Bab Souk, where my Dar owner meets me and walks me to the place I am staying. Much safer than the cities, I can walk around after dark. 
The city is beautiful in all of its colors of blue, even at night. The streets are cleaner and there is a faint smell of jasmine. Cats and kittens are everywhere. Some look sick, and I am afraid they don't look long for this world. But most people leave dishes of water outside their houses for them and food (although often it is bread, which I don't think is likely good for cats).
I wake up early the next morning (accidentally waking my Dar owner, as I didn't know he sleeps outside my room on a couch) and walk the mostly empty streets. The blues change hues with the light. Soon, the kids all start walking to school. A dog starts following me around and scares the cats. I finally have to walk him back and find his owner so he stops following me. Head back to my Dar for a delicious breakfast. 
An omelette, fresh local goat cheese and olives, crepes with local honey and butter, and bread with jam and nutella butter. And of course, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. The selfie stick tourists start arriving in full force. Thursday is market day and Bab Souk is busy. People are very against photos, so I don't take many. 
I run in to the woman from bus, who greets me warmly and has now joined her husband and son. I find a painter who invites me in and lets me watch him paint. In the afternoon, I walk to the Old Spanish Mosque and sit with many others, awaiting the sunset. Along the way, someone picked fresh, delicious figs from a nearby tree and shared them with me. It is a great view of the city and the sunset did not disappoint! 
Wander to the main town plaza and listen to a bit of music before heading to a new restaurant that opened two weeks ago and have delicious kefta tangine. Little meatballs with spices swim in a tomato sauce with an egg soft boiled in the sauce, served piping hot with fresh bread. It may be my new favorite meal.
The next morning is Friday, the religious day. I am also excited, as I was told by Jalal in Casablanca that Friday is for couscous. You can get it any day in restaurants, but Fridays are when people make large batches in their homes for sharing after prayer. And supposedly, you need to try couscous from someone's house, not in a restaurant. I had anxiously been counting the days down to Couscous Friday! But I had no leads on how to get an invite to someone's house for couscous. After another delicious breakfast, I head back out to wander. I roam from near the top of the town, down to the bottom around the commercial district full of clothes for locals. 
There are cute little town squares to stop in, each with their own decorated tile spot for people to get water. I head back around the kasbah, where I had spoken to a Berber from the desert that sold gems, rocks, and minerals. I watch his shop for him as he goes for prayer and we sit and chat for quite a while. And score! He invites me for couscous, as he is friendly with many of the neighbors and a woman sends over a heaping plate when it has is done. 
It is delicious cooked with well seasoned broth and topped with a bit of meat, potato, carrot, cabbage, and a zucchini like vegetable. We share the huge plate of couscous using a makeshift table on top of the rocks, gems and minerals. Unlike instant, fast cooked couscous, the couscous here is slowly steamed on top of the ingredients while occasionally hand rolled in olive oil to keep it from sticking. A teenager pops in to the shop and sheepishly joins us for the woman's couscous. Apparently, his mom also made couscous, but he likes the neighbor lady's better. Ha! With my Friday goal achieved, I wander around more. 
Had thought of going to nearby hikes and Akchour waterfalls by shared taxi, but I heard it has been so dry lately that it was not as impressive right now. So instead, I end up playing with a mom cat who purrs with chin rubs and her two kittens at a rug shop. I head to a restaurant for lamb and prune tangine for dinner and head back to my Dar, where the owner is always there to greet me with a big smile and see if I need anything like coffee or mint tea.
The location is also great, as it is close to the Blue Gate and the Batha Poste entrance of the Medina. I wander the streets, and surprising only really get slightly panic lost once (there are reportedly over 9,000 streets in the medina). It helps that my accommodation is near the entrance that is at the highest point, so when in doubt, "head uphill" on one of the main streets. It is chaotic and amazing. 
I was nervous for Fes as I had heard horror stories that women shouldn't travel alone here and kids constantly hassle you and give you wrong directions and get you lost. It is a little unnerving walking through this narrow, single wide, unlit alleys. But I just try to appear confident and walk close to women if I get nervous. But everyone I met was kind and helpful, offering all types of information about the history and area and never asking for money. The shop owners kid around, but are not pushy. "Come have a look! Where are you from?" I laugh and say I will come look if they can guess where I was born. "China? Japan? Korea? Uh, Mexico? Morocco? I don't know." 
Ha! I was going to save most of the sightseeing for the next day, but run into a guy from Australia that imports goods and he is going to the Chouara Tannery to pick up a leather jacket to mail so he takes me with him. They let me look over these expansive vats, and tell me all about the process. Square vats of white and greys that have pigeon poop that people collect and sell to them to break down the leather with its ammonia. And then various colors of dye. It is a bit stinky, but really beautiful. 
They show me the shop, but don't push me to buy anything or charge me an entrance fee like I had heard. Not sure if they are just worn out by the end of the day, or the stories I heard were incorrect. I was told there was a widowed women coop owned by the government that was worth checking out the next day, as it was closed for the day. But I happened to wander past it and they invited me in. Inside was a huge, old palace with many rooms for his four wives. They let me up on the roof for a spectacular view. Even invited me to stay for dinner, but I didn't want to impose.
The next morning, I get up early and watch the sun rise over Fes. I start wandering when most things are closed and the streets and alleyways are far less busy. As things open, it is magical. Shop owners come and open the unassuming wooden doors and all kinds of treasures are behind the doors. Lamps, antiques, jewelry, rugs... and some souvenir type junk from China. 
I visit Al-Attarine Madrasa when it opens and it is beautiful! Built in 1325, the tile work, plaster, and wood work is amazing. There is a fountain in the center courtyard and I have it all to myself. 
They gesture that I should go upstairs which was the living quarters of the students, and just let me explore everything on my own. Beautiful dark wood with sunlight streaming in from openings in the roof and big metal hanging lamps set the mood. 
There was also a great view of the nearby green tiled rooftops and mosque. Then some guy came and set up a tripod and to do some kind of "model-esque" catwalk photo shoot of himself posing, and it ruined the mood. I walked out in to the spice and perfume market and wander some more. 
I had no plans other than to wander, making way on the narrow streets for horses, donkeys, carts, motorbikes and people. This behavior of not having any destination appears concerning, as people keep trying to be helpful by taking me back to see the tannery. 
It is easier than arguing and trying to explain with their limited English and my almost non-existent Arabic and French that I have already been multiple times and I know where it is. Luckily, I really like the tannery and it looks different in the different times of day. Everyone at the tannery laughs on each arrival, especially by my third visit. But I get mint tea and a chat each time, with no pressure to buy or give any one any money. 
They also let me in to my own little viewing area deck (as well as threatening me that if I came back a fourth time in one day, they were putting me to work in the vats). As I am wandering, people keep inviting me into this unassuming doors, behind which are these ornate, multi-storied family houses with terrace views over the medina. My legs and calves are burning from all this hill and stair climbing. Wandering around in Fes really is a treat. I find dried apricots, mishmish, one of my few arabic words. I buy a kilogram for my long bus journey and atlas mountain adventure. I try a chicken pastille for dinner, a pastry of sweet with cinnamon on top and savory. I sit in the square outside a kasbah and enjoy sunset with all the local neighbors, thousands of birds coming out at sunset that live in the old wall behind us (starlings I think) and watching the kids play soccer and boys teaching their sisters how to ride a bicycle. Back to my dar, I have my first uncomfortable experience as the night employee seems too touchy for me and keeps trying to hold my hand and touch my face and wants to know what room I am staying in and trying to come to Meknes with me the next day. I end up slapping his hand away from me and smile and show him the next will be a closed fist. He leaves me alone and I quickly go upstairs and double lock the door, putting my big backpack in front of the door so I will hear if it gets opened (there is an update to this story in the email from Marrakesh).
He also gives me all kinds of info and tips on what to see when I get there, saving me from getting a guide. Volubilis (so hard for me to pronounce for some reason, but the Arabic version of Walili rolls off my tongue way easier) is beautiful with preserved tiles, arches, and columns, surrounded by farmland. It is hot at around 90 degrees, but well worth several hours and the money. 
It is a lot bigger than I thought, with many sections to explore. I probably could have maybe spent another hour or two there. I spend the rest of the afternoon wandering Meknes and the covered market with butchers and shops full of spices and olives and preserved lemons. Most everyone seems super nice, inviting you to take photos and ask questions, without asking for money or anything. 
I watch the special art of Meknes with silver wire designs hammered in to black metal. I spend the late afternoon at a cafe in Lahdim Square into night, awaiting my bus. The square is somewhat empty during the day, but at night, it fills up with vendors and people and comes alive. Food, clothes, sunglasses, watches, music, kids playing, little motorized cars driven by kids zipping around the square, cotton candy, balloons, everything is bustling. 
But it feels pretty safe, even at night. I needed a little help catching a taxi, but my trick is to look for the guys in the neon vests who handle street parking. They seem to always be helpful and friendly, and speak a bit of English. One helps me get to the right spot to catch a petite taxi, and I can see him watching from across the street and traffic circle, and eventually after I am waiting for a little bit, he flags one down and sends him over to come pick me up. And, it was the first taxi driver who uses a meter, and without me even asking it was already turned on!) back to the CTM station and now await the bus for my kasbah adventure. Not looking forward to an overnight bus with a wait and change of buses at 4am in some small town of Errachidea. Not sure of phone/internet for the next four days until I reach Marrakesh.