We were dropping the car off at the international airport, so we took the indicated exit for the airport. From then on we were on our own though - there was not another solitary sign indicating which way the airport was. We continued along the exit row until it was obvious from the terrain that there could not bean airport there. We asked locals for assistance and a young man described in detail what to do: go back and turn left at the fourth roundabout. We did this and it looked promising - lots of flat land. I remembered that we needed to fill the car up before handing it back, so we ducked into the servo to do this and while there I asked the attendant if the airport was down the road. Nope, back to that roundabout and on to the fifth one to turn left. That actually worked.
As we pulled into the airport, we saw many people picnicking under trees just outside. We learned later that this was because it was the last day of the school holidays and locals were enjoying the fine spring weather. We gave the car back to Europcars and were mighty relieved that they had not made a fuss about the marks/dents that may have accrued during our lease. I say relieved because there was a significant reservation of several thousand dollars on my credit card. After repeated prodding on this matter I was emphatically assured that the blocking off was removed and just the agreed contract amount debited.
We took a grand taxi into town. Our destination was Ain Azliten carpark, and we were a little concerned about whether they had correctly understood my pronunciation. It seemed so as we were confidently passed over to a driver who would take us. The vehicle turned out to be an old mid-sized Mercedes Benz, at least 35 years old. It was clapped out inside and out. There were no window winders and the door handles looked makeshift. Neither the tacho nor speedo were working. Our journey was accompanied by much honking of the horn by our impatient driver. He dropped us in a carpark all right, but like in Meknes, I was expecting a multi-storey building. No such luck, just a dirt patch.
After unloading I was going to call the Dar to get someone to pick us up, but the local porters, two young lads with a cart were keen to get the business, saying they knew where the Dar was, so we relented and followed them at a brisk pace (it was downhill all the way). They knew the way all right so we were there in ten minutes.
After the housekeeper Adil let us in, the charming young maid Houda served us mint tea. Shortly after the owners showed up, Claire and Joe from London, who were staying for a short stretch. Both in their late 30's. They had bought the house in 2006 and restored it over a period of six months using a team of 6 or 7 locals including Adil. Our room is large and pleasant, with high ceilings. No hangers, but sufficient power points. The toilet and shower are half a landing up/down but we are the only guests because the owners are in the other room.
After freshening up we went out, bought a map and guide and had a very good lunch at the top of the road near Bab Boujloud - the blue gate. We then wandered down the hill and looked at the by-now-familiar streetscape with myriad shops and people everywhere. We visited a museum but apart from the very ornate courtyard, much like madressas we had seen, this wasn't particularly interesting, even though it was a UNESCO-listed facility.
By now we were getting tired but kept pushing on, not knowing exactly where we were. The map was not much help, because of the lack of street signs. Fes does have one useful guide to getting around - coloured signs indicating a particular walking route, hanging above the lanes. One man indicated that the Andalusian quarter was over there, and of course he insisted on leading us there. After ten+ minutes of that we had had enough and just turned around. Trouble was, we didn't know where we were. After a few false starts, much studying of the map and overhead signs we got back to our house.
Earlier we had sussed out evening eating establishments and had seen a whole row of them, including one very beautiful one with an exquisite interior, much like a madressa, which it may very well have been. However at 295 Dh pp, it was too dear. Today's rate, 1 AUD = 7.6 MAD.
For dinner we went up the road again and ate at Restaurant Fassi very near where we had eaten lunch. The chairs and tables covered in brightly coloured and embroidered cloths appealed to our European tastes. My meal was excellent, but the waiter misunderstood Joan's order. I thought I had indicated we would both have the full meal, consisting of entrée, main and dessert. Poor Joan only got her main course however, and she didn't like it. The supposed chicken tajine was a grilled chicken quickly chucked in a tajine pot with vegetables. A curious aspect of this establishment, well two really, was that the covered outdoor area where we were was only used by foreigners. The inside area was filled with local men drinking tea and watching TV - football probably. The other thing was that food was not prepared on the premises. The waiter kept dashing around the corner to where we had eaten lunch, coming back with plates of food obtained from stalls located there.
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