Day 5 - Melilla to Fez

The Border Crossing

We are now in Morocco. As predicted it is quite the culture shock, the border itself was a bit of a nightmare. I'm not sure, but we may have inadvertently bypassed the Spanish checkpoints (though we were waved through that gap by Spanish border guards). Really, the guidebooks should be a little less PC and describe it as the muddy mess that it is, but then we may have just chose a bad day to cross - muddy water lapping at the tops of our boots as we were sucked along in a heaving mass of humanity towards the Moroccan side of the border.

To be honest once we were out of the crowd and waiting at the Moroccan passport control it didn't take long at all for our passports to get stamped. We chatted to an English bloke who lives in Melilla while we waited, apparently we were the first "English" people he'd seen using this border crossing. (We put him straight on that error, at first he was apologetic but then on consideration he decided that we should have taken it as a compliment.)

Once we were over the border it took us but a moment to pick up our first tout, though he did show us to a working ATM that would have taken us up to a full two minutes to find by ourselves. Note to Lonely Planet readers - the ATM marked on the left as you walk away from the border looked well and truly out of order when we were there, take the first left and there is an actual bank branch with ATMs. After the mess of the border crossing itself it was a bit surreal to walk off a dusty street into a bank that was cleaner and better staffed than those in London. In fact, over the next few weeks we learnt that banks could provide a welcome relief from the heat and bustle of the street.

With several thousand dirham burning a holes in our pockets we now faced the challenge of getting ourselves to Nador, the nearest Moroccan town of any size. Apparently there was a bus - usually unmarked - that did the journey. It was most likely the one disappearing up the road to Nador as we came out of the bank. Our tout had a very definite idea of how we should get to Nador, but by a stroke of luck as we stood on the corner the previously mentioned English bloke pulled up in his van. He was heading through Nador with some friends who were here on holiday and offered us a lift.

Nador and the First Mint Tea

Our new English friend deposited us on the outskirts of Nador by a hole-in-the-wall of a cafe. It was in here that we drank our very first cups of mint tea, and I have to say that it was something that I developed quite a taste for in the weeks to come. As we plotted out next move we were watched by a couple of elderly Berbers who were contentedly sucking on their kif (marijuana) pipes. I don't think this place got many foreign customers.

The Bus Trip

It was decided that we would try and find a coach heading straight for Fez. It seems that today that luck was on our side, because as we headed into what I will loosely describe as Nador's coach station (little more than a field) an almost full coach was slowly making its way out with a man walking in front yelling "Fez, Fez, Fez". It was also a real coach, a little worse for wear but no where near the "chicken buses" of Tim's SE Asian adventures.

We loaded our packs on board and were negotiating the price when the bus operator used an aggressive bargaining tactic - the coach started to pull away with our packs on board. I know we paid the same as the two Swedes we met on board, though I don't know if this was a special Westerner rate or not. Either way, the whole journey still cost less than a Zone 1-5 pass for the London Underground.

In hindsight bringing pork salami products to eat on the bus was possibly a little culturally insensitive.

(At this juncture I would just like to note that although we had only been in Morocco for little over an hour we had heard two Natalie Imbruglia songs already. You can take from that what you will.)

Fez

Finally, what the tourist books talk about. We and Swedes we met on the bus are staying in a hotel inside the Medina. Night was falling by the time we arrived so we set off for a quick explore in the narrow streets of the old city before dinner. The power even went out to add to the atmosphere. By the speed at which lanterns and candles appeared I don't think this a rare event. Unfortunately a little rain is still falling - not the dusty and dry country I imagined - but not too much makes its way down to street level.

Strawberry Seller, Fez (Photo: Faber)

When entering the Medina with a pack on my back and "clueless westerner" all but stamped on my forehead I was surprised that we were not approached by any touts. Perhaps it was because it was the low season, perhaps it was because of the weather, however once we had dumped our packs at the hotel there were no shortage of restaurant owners who wanted to make our acquaintance.

We had dinner and tea with the Swedes and a Canadian we met at the restaurant. I was adopted by the restaurant cat, who slept with its head in my lap as I ate. The food was good, though I suspect aimed squarely at the tourist market (a suspicion that would be confirmed over the coming weeks). We rounded dinner off with some more mint tea and the freshest and juiciest citrus fruit I have ever eaten.