The Land of 1001 Scents

I just returned from Morocco tuesday night, after a 6 day stay there. Stepping off the plane, two things struck me. First was the humidity, as it had just rained. Second, related to the recent rains, was the smell, the smell of palm trees or freshness that could never be bottled or sold as "Calvin Klein." It was a smell that reminded me, probably falsly, of the previous trips to the middle east I´ve had.

The trip would be full of smells and aromas, both good and bad, that defined the trip. There was the food, be it couscous or tajine or coffee or mint tea. The streets were full of smells: spices and leathers and fresh feces curtesy of passing donkeys. The tannery was full of the oppressive leather odor. The apothacary shop had plenty of smells, whether it was from powders, lotions, inscence or oil.

Fes was beautiful, and the medina seemed to last forever. Streets curved and crawled and crashed together, be it a market in the street or the open area of a collapsed house. The main stops included two madrasas, a hotel and an arts school. There are three types of housing in the medina: riyadhs (houses opening out to a garden), dhars (houses surrounding a courtyard), or dhweeras (small dhars). I think my favorite part had nothing to do with the architecture. I finally got a haircut by an algerian right near the hotel. I trust my french a helluva lot more than my spanish when it comes to gesturing instructions. It was nice to meet an algerian there but unfortunately I had no idea where his hometown was.

Photos (from left to right): inside a refurbished Synagogue, part of the wall guarding the royal palace, dying stations for the tannery, cranes nesting atop roman ruins