The Mellah (Jewish Quarter) of Fes. It is so named for the word for Salt— the jewish community had an important role in the Salt trade.

Much of the Jewish community in Fes were emmigrants from Spain. At the founding of Israel and Moroccan independence, most families moved to Israel or Casablanca. There are only 80 Jewish families in Fes today, all live in the Ville Novelle.

Bou Indira Medrasa

Ladies love the tile. Tile everything!

I watched some girls wash a kitten on their roof (which is across from mine). The cat, although not pleased, was resigned. I really am not sure what it says about me that I took approximately fifty kajillion photos of the process. Here is one with the little girls being curious…

The Streets of Fes

Picture this:

Nora and Hester are sitting on the floor of their hotel room, packing for their next destination in advance. They have one more afternoon in Fes, and then it is on to Marrakesh. Their train tickets are bought, first class, and they are ready to go. They talk about how they have not hated each other yet, and how their trip has been relatively free of disaster.

We should have kept our mouths shut.

That afternoon we went to see two synagoges and a Jewish Cemetary. WE thought we had been drinking enough water, but perhaps there is no such thing when it is that hot. Heatstroke is a horrible thing to happen to anyone, Nora will tell you. After figuring out that we would have to take her to the emergency room on a donkey or handcart, we opted to care for ourselves. Hester was a wonderful nurse, and Nora eventually recovered her body´s ability to regulate it´s own temperature. However, there was no way she was going to be able to be on a 8 hour train ride early the next morning. We missed our train and decided to stay another night in Fes.

Less than 24 hours later, Hester eats what she thinks is a delicious cous cous. It was tasty, but apparently toxic, and she developed a wicked case of food poisoning. Nora was also a great nurse, and we give big ups to rehydration salts and fanta orange!

We realized that we were now looking at an 8 hour train ride to Marrakesh, while hester was still in pukey-town, one day in Marrakesh in 108 degree heat, and then a flight back to Barcelona.

We decided we´d rather not.

We came back early to Barcelona, where the envelopes where Nora had been saving our receipts either fell out of her bag, or were victim to the worst pick pocket ever.

Bad Spanish television, reydration salts, and sleep have healed us. We are coming home soon, but are going to enjoy our last bit of time on this adventure!

… becquse they are where the a is on english keyboards.

So we made it to Fes!

So it is goodbye ham, hello lamb, as we enter into morocco. We spent 1 night in tanger after crossing the ferry. All of the guidebooks made Tanger sound like a super scary place, but we didn’t think so at all. Although we are, of course, badasses from new york, it wasn’t that. Everyone was super friendly in giving Nora instructions on how to get to the hotel. Although we got a little lost, people patiently guided us.We ate and rested, just wqlking around. Not sure I would come to morocco just for tanger, but it wqs good times.

The next morning we got on the train to fes. All the first class were sold out, so we went for 6 hours in the burning heat without airconditioning. At tangers, there was a stampede for the train as soon as the doors opened; I enjoyed running for the train and knocking people out of the way. I think Nora enjoyed it less. We shared a compartment with a nice couple and their adorable children. The little boy loved the fact that I had a big fan and was willing to share the breeze! Several people stopped to talk to us, and the family was protective of us. Sweet.

We got to the Hotel with no problem— nora is a pro at being polite but firm:

“you have a nice hotel with a pool? Very nice, but we will go with our reservation.”

We are staying in the Medina in a cool Dar (townhouse) that is filled with tile. The dream lives! We have a minaret right outside our window. That’s not saying much, because there are 350 of them in the Medina.

I won’t lie, Fes is a little overwealming, although cool. It is filled with young men, who all want to say hello and constant appeals to enter shops. But it is amazing to see all the craftsmen and commerce- all while getting out of the way of a donkey!

Food is good too :)

Tarifa is about as far south as you can go in Spain.  It has a beautiful beach; an easy ferry to Tangier; and forts and monuments to the Reconquesta;  The towns name comes from the famous Arab general Tarik.  As usuual, many of the homes have patios and fountains. You can still see the walls of the medina or old city.  The town and its people are sunbleached and relaxed.  The coolest part is sitting on the beach, looking at the Sea and turning your head back and forth to look at Europe on one side and Africa on the other. Africa is only fourteen km away.

Also, on our bus ride we saw a lot of wind turbines and some solar panels. Go Spain!

I have a story to tell you. Remember the movie “The Cutting Edge?” How the spoiled girl from Greenwich grew to love the rough and tumble hockey player. This story is like that. It is the story of harem pants.

Before I left on this trip, my sister Caroline kindly gave me some clothes from India, including a pair of enormous pants. I made jokes about how I looked silly, but thought they were vrey comfy. I even joked with nora about them on the plane, that I was going to travel in huge pants!

And then we arrived in Barcelona and there were harem pants.

Many many harem pants.

At first we pointed them out to each other and giggled. And then I started counting them. Then I lost count. Although they were not as popular in Cordova, it seemed like every other woman under fourty was wearing them. And quite a few over fourty.

We called them ridiculous. We called them ugly. We said we would cry when all the hipsters in the l.e.s. were wearing them. I compared them to my personal bugabear “leggings as pants.”

Then we conceded that if you were very skinny, they might look ok. Perhaps they were comfy. Perhaps you need a lot of room in the seat of your pants. They were everywhere, but we scoffed.

Until today. When nora and i both bought a pair.

Like that snobby ice skater, I just needed to have my heart melted by harem pants. They are indeed redic, but very comfy. Every hipster will be wearing them soon. So will your mom.

Be warned

Ceilings. Hester loves to photograph ceilings