The muezzin’s morning call for prayer woke me up. After a few days in Morocco I became used to it. A new day in Morocco has come. It was a cold morning in Fez and it was cold in Morocco from the day I arrived there. Maybe this is how it is supposed to be in April. Or maybe not. But I sure didn’t expect this freshness. It really didn’t matter. This was the day I got to meet another royal city of Morocco, Fez. But first, coffee, I thought to my self. A strong, black one.

There is this small, simple café on the square before the Blue Gate of Fez. I sat on the veranda, ordered my coffee and just observed the dawn of the new day. More and more people were coming to the medina of this ancient city. I slowly drank my coffee and I was ready to explore this labyrinth of small medieval streets. And I soon realised it was a good idea to see it with a local guide who used to live there. 

We passed an endless number of craftsmen and little shops. It was so vibrant with life that it was impossible not to stare. Everything was so interesting. And on every step and every corner there was a whole new world. But there was this distinct sense of the past times and I couldn’t help but think about Angelique’s escape from the harem of Moulay Ismail in Meknes. How did these streets look like in the 17th century, I wondered.  

There were mosaics and ornaments everywhere. The never ending aestetics of the detail. A glimpse of the places we can’t go in. Beautifully woven carpets, delicate fabrics that caress the skin and awake longings. Sharp odor from the leather tanneries that goes away if you smell the mint. It’s a whole new world hidden from the outside world. It’s mesmerising although it’s totaly different from the world I usually like. It is the world of dimmed lights coming from magnificent chandeliers. It is an intimate place, with soft oriental music, chairs and benches with pillows. Inviting you to lie down and rest, dream a little dream and indulge in a Moroccan food. Like a tale from the Thousand and One Nights.

It was afternoon already. From the intimacy and quietness of the indoors I stepped out, in the bustle of the street. The morning chills were gone. It was cloudy and humid. About to rain. The children were hurrying back home to their parents and we headed back. Out of the narrow streets of the medina and back to the Blue Gate. Out of the labyrinth and back to the reality. 

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