Greetings from Fés

I spend the evening wandering through the medina at Fés (aka Fez). Food stalls, clothing salesmen, brassware, and even a blacksmith, all in miles and miles of medieval passageways too narrow for a truck (only a burro can bring goods in and out, and many do.) In the maze of Fés’ medina, everything is available, from bootleg music to people. It’s not hard to see how the slave trade flourished here. Earlier today we visited the roman ruins of Volubilis, and Fés is basically the same type of city, but still functional.

radio shack / fes, morocco

dentiste / fes, morocco

We get lost for a while in the medina, and it’s easy to imaging how some visitors choose to remain lost, never leaving the narrow alleys of Fés.

Just now I used the turkish toilet for the first time… now I’m only typing with my right hand. Thank god for American toilets, American toilet paper, and flushing. Here it is a pit in the floor, a bucket of water, and your left hand.


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