Morocco – June 2009

The medina in Fez is filled with compact, windy streets, indescribable scents, and cries of “Balak! Balak!” when an unyielding donkey is approaching. It reminds me of the Amazon in that it is nearly impossible to put into words—it really needs to be experienced. From tanneries to rug shops, you can find it here. Delve deep enough, and one can probably still find a Minotaur.


It’s probably not surprising, then, to discover that Fez is a rather traditional town. I’m travelling with a group with only four solo travelers—myself, a Kiwi accompanying a couple from New Zealand, a well-travelled but very peculiar Brit, and a leggy blonde from Nebraska. We started in Spain, worked our way down through Portugal, and are now in Morocco. The leggy blonde and I have begun wandering about together (and avoiding the peculiar Brit).

The afternoon we arrive in Fez, I decide to head out to exchange some money and buy a few provisions before dinner. That evening, the leggy blonde asks if I wouldn’t mind taking her to the same exchange and market. One problem: She decides to wear relatively short shorts and a strappy top for the outing. I start to notice the damning looks almost immediately once we are on the main street, especially from the local women.

At the exchange, the man behind the counter won’t look her way, so I complete the transaction on her behalf. More damning stares on our way to the market. Again, the seller won’t even look at her, so I use my limited French to make the purchase. As we head back to the hotel, I note that she might want to cover up a bit while we’re in Morocco. If not, I have a feeling that she’s going to end up being stoned and I’m going to be arrested for being in the company of a salacious woman.

The next morning, she comes down with legs covered and a top with sleeves. She lets me know that her fiancé appreciated my accompanying her to the exchange and market, and for the recommendation to cover up. He was worried she wouldn’t and might find herself in some trouble. He’d also be appreciative when, a few days later, I am offered twenty camels for her but respectfully decline.

This travel tale is included in my collection, Can’t Get Here from There: Fifty Tales of Travel. Buy it on Amazon.

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