bobbin' and weavin'

Fes was quite a trip. Arrived in the middle of the night. Rob's friends didn't have room to squeeze one more in the room so we agreed to meet late morning the next day and I rode off in the unofficial taxi Rob and I picked up at the bus station. We flew down the streets from hotel to hotel looking for one to suit my budget, my driver and diplomat knocking on windows to wake weary managers that shook my hand but, one after another, informed us that c'est complet and we moved on to the next.

Discovered a $4-per-night gem right inside the old city walls: checked for large rodents, wore all my valuables in bed with me, looped my bag strap around my leg, and fell asleep.

The following day proved Fes, (though not as sketchy,) no less tiring than Tangier. Money rules here: tourists have it, and the majority of the population don't, but to understand this fact is much easier than to keep one's cool in the face of all the salesmen, would-be guides, beggars, and overly-curious children.

Many hours getting lost weaving the market streets of the old city, but a good sleep, crashing in the free bed in Rob's 4-star hotel before moving on to Casablanca.