Fez Finale . . . Travel Home . . . and A Big "Shukran" to the Goddess of Travel

    Our final half day in Fez was not to be wasted.  As our flight did not leave until 4:00 p.m., we had time for a finale:  The potential purchase of a carpet.

 

     We told our riad that we were interested in looking at carpets after breakfast.  A call was made.  At precisely 10 a.m., this man arrived to guide us to a carpet seller somewhere deep in the old medina. 

 

 

He was a well-built man named Muhammad . . . about 55 years old with excellent English.  In this picture, Muhammad is guiding us through the maze:

 

 

Muhammad and Ed struck up an immediate conversation about bodybuilding.  Muhammad then revealed that he had once been a competitive bodybuilder and had been the "Champion of Morocco" in 1984.  Incredibly, Muhammad said that he had known and competed against the famous Muhammad Makkaway . . . the great Egyptian bodybuilder who narrowly lost the Mr. Olympia competition to Lee Haney in 1984.  Muhammad Makkaway was once one of Ed's favorite bodybuilders . . . . a childhood idol if you will, whose physique was once plastered on Ed's bedroom wall:

 



The Great Egyptian Bodybuilder, Muhammad Makawway

 





It was am amazing coincidence and there was much to discuss.

 

     But eventually we found ourselves at one of thousands of non-descript doors, and then we emerged into a palace of rugs and carpets . . . the ceiling must have been 50 feet high, it was adorned with intricate mosaics, there were hundreds of rugs of all sizes and designs and about 6 workers scurrying about.  Preparations were underway to demonstrate and educate us about rugs, as well as to  impress and flatter us and try to make a sale.  First, a worker took us up about 5 flights of stairs to the roof for views of Fez:

 

 

     Then it was back downstairs to the central display area where we were served mint tea.  The next hour was consumed with the display of dozens of rugs of all sizes and designs.  The rugs are not made here.  They are gathered from all over Morocco and, with a few exceptions, are what we Americans would call "used."  But with rugs, age is a quality to be desired.  We were shown Arab and Berber designs of all styles and colors.  Eventually we narrowed it down to a few we were interested in.

 

     Then the negotiations began.  These consumed the next half-hour.  There were offers and counteroffers, good cop/bad cop, and "gifts" thrown in for the kids in the form of small hanging carpets.  Eventually we settled on a price, and the rugs were compressed into an incredibly small bundle for transport to Seattle -- sewn up into a package with a handle.  We were told they would be delivered back to our riad before it was time for us to depart, and they came through just as promised.

 

     Here, Ed shakes hands with the rug seller on completion of the transaction, as a worker bundles our souvenirs:

 

 

Muhammad guided us back to our riad and we said goodbye:

 

 

We had barely enough cash left for lunch, reserving 20 Dirham tip for the driver who was to take us to the airport.  Chez Thami made for good food and people watching at a budget price:

 

 

      Someone was already waiting for us at the riad with a wheelbarrow to take our luggage through the maze to the street where our driver was waiting.  Ooops!  We forgot that we would need a tip for him too!  (Lesson:  Always have at least some spare change in your pocket at the end.)  So our 20 Dirham were spent on the cart-guy and we had to give a $5 bill to our driver with apologies.  He took it well.

 

     At the small but modern Fez airport, we showed our passports to various officials no less than five separate times.  Then it was time to walk to the plane:

 

 

 

 

It was sad to leave Morocco.  Ed was in a state of mild depression at the thought of being unable to have Tagine for every meal.  Others were mildly elated at the prospect . . . .

 

     After that, it was Fez to Paris-Orly; train from Orly to Charles de Gaulle; overnight in a travelers hotel near the airport; shuttle bus the next to Terminal 1; train/walk to Terminal 3; train/walk back to Terminal 1; 2 and 1/2 hours flight to Iceland; 8 hours from Iceland to Seattle (ugh!!); through customs; 1/2 hour home courtesy of Joan and Drew; and, finally, to our own private riad . . . .

 

     We were worn out.  But we were HOME!

 

     And now we pay respects and give thanks to Desna, the goddess of travel and journeys, for blessing us and protecting us from harm:

• No accidents
• No injuries
• No serious or even moderate illnesses
• No thefts
• Nothing lost
• No missed/cancelled flights, lost reservations or failed travel arrangements
• Our home safe and secure on our return.

 

 

     SHUKRAN!   SHUKRAN!  SHUKRAN!