Writers Assist the Medina Children's Library

This week the Medina Children's Library received a generous donation from the participants in this year's Deep Travel Writing Workshop

The View from Fez headquarters at Riad Zany was the venue for the fundraising dinner on Wednesday night. Among the 25 guests were Deep Travel organisers, Christina Ammon and Anna Elkins, photographer, Omar Chennafi, and renowned travel writer, Tim Cahill.

The evening included the launch of a superb new anthology and readings from writers represented in the book, Vignettes & Postcards From Morocco, edited by Erin Byrne. Erin was unable to attend this years workshops but was present as a cardboard cut out of her face!

Suzanna Clarke, Christina Ammon, ( rin Byrne), Tim Cahill, Sandy McCutcheon, Anna Elkins

The feast, cooked up by Rachida El Jokh and her mother, included salads, lamb with apricots, chicken with preserved lemon and a kiwifruit, mint and strawberry yogurt dessert - delicious.

The money raised goes towards supporting the Medina Children's Library, which provides a child-friendly space with hundreds of books, storytelling and art workshops and receives a thousand visits from Medina children every month.

Our thanks to organiser and chef, Rachida El Jokh

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Travel Writing - Irish Times Criticised

Over the years travel writing about Morocco has improved. Gone are the stories rife with orientalist fantasy, or filled with warnings about being ripped off by unscrupulous vendors in the souks. However, the Irish Times recently ran a story by Michelle Walshe that has created a debate amongst both expats and locals

The headline - 'As a woman in Morocco you cover up, no matter what the guide books say' - immediately evoked a reaction on social media from readers.

Cafes are men-only domains. Shopping malls cater for Muslim not western women. The veil is not only in fashion, it is integral to the culture. As a western woman, you make adjustments. You don’t go out alone at night. In fact, you don’t go out alone at all. You cover up, no matter what the guide books say. And you speak French or you don’t manage. - Michelle Walshe

Shopping malls only cater for Muslim women? One response on Twitter pointed out - @IrishTimes And the shopping. How can one miss Zara, H&M, Mango, in heart of city? All next to cafes filled with men and women.

Marrakech resident Mandy Sinclair responds...Statements such as, "Cafes are men-only domains. Shopping malls cater for Muslim not western women. The veil is not only in fashion, it is integral to the culture,” are not only inaccurate but a laughable misrepresentation of the city. One doesn’t have to venture far to discover cafes lining the street with both men and women. And head on down to the central plaza (everyone knows it) on the weekend where international high street shops Zara and Mango are heaving with locals and you’ll soon find that the same clothes available in these shops are available in any other city around the world. I can speak from experience as I recently nipped in to Zara while back in Canada and during a weekend getaway to Barcelona.

"Cafes are men-only domains"

The comment about "covering up" also drew a response.

hey @IrishTimes I'm heading in my gym gear, unveiled, to a mixed gym for spin class. Ready to pull your misinformed article Marrakech yet?

"It has never been suggested to me, either explicitly or in material I have read about Morocco, that I should cover my head in any manner in order to fit in" - Canadian Expat Kathi Black.

Most general advice to tourists is to dress respectfully. While it is true that young women often find themselves the centre of unwanted attention, in general, Moroccan men are respectful to women. Most expats soon find they are recognised as part of the community and treated as such. Even in the Fez Medina, which is far more conservative than Marrakech, women feel safer on the streets than they would in many Western cities.

Mandy Sinclair backs that up. "What couldn’t be further from the truth is the blanket statement, “As a western woman, you make adjustments. You don’t go out alone at night. In fact, you don’t go out alone at all.” In fact, I’m waiting for my single female colleague to finish up for the day so we can meet at our favourite wine bar for after work drinks. I’ve felt safer in Morocco than I do in most European and North American cities."

Another expat, Kathi Black, agrees, "I live my life as I would in Canada. I live alone, work alone, and travel around the city and country alone. I exercise common sense safety measures of course. But I have never felt scared to leave my house alone".

Kathi also disagrees with the Irish Times story and the claim that Marrakech tries hard to be like the West. "Western countries like to call themselves “melting pots” and flaunt their “tolerant” views, but Morocco is quietly living those values and has been for centuries. Moroccans are extraordinarily proud of who they and would never try to be something else. They don’t try to be like the West, but they are in many ways, because of their French influence and in that sense they come by their Western influence and liberal thinking honestly, in an authentic way. But they also live unabashedly in their ancient roots. In Marrakech you can pass the morning in the shops of the local shopping malls, and the afternoon in cafes and restaurants as you wish, and the evening in the ancient medina among an exotic culture that in many ways hasn’t changed since the 7th century".

Kathi goes on to say, "As a guest in this country, I do my best to show graciousness toward my hosts. I attempt to communicate in French, a language I do not speak. I have learned a few essential phrases in Darija in order to show respect, but I have never had a problem not knowing the language. There are more than enough selfless locals who will give you the shirt off their back, a ride to the local agency, their translation services and split their lunch with you. It has never been suggested to me, either explicitly or in material I have read about Morocco, that I should cover my head in any manner in order to fit in.

For the record, French newspaper, Le Monde. has named Marrakech among the world’s top 20 destinations to visit in 2017. According to data from Morocco’s Tourism Observatory, more than 8.1million tourists visited Marrakech in the first nine months of 2016.

Kathi Black is the co-owner of the tour company Roaming Camels

Mandy Sinclair runs the popular blog Why Morocco? She also is the founder and managing director of Say Something Communications SARL and Tasting Marrakech food and cultural tours

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Author Lisa Clifford Checks Out the Fez Medina

Lisa Clifford, one of the leaders of "The Art of Writing Fez" - a retreat to be held in November, has arrived in Fez ahead of the event in order to familiarise herself with the Fez Medina. Her response after a week of exploration? "Breathtakingly astonishing... gobsmacking in its uniqueness. I have never been to such an amazing place in my life."

Lisa Clifford exploring Fez

Clifford is thrilled with Fez because it is just what is needed to stimulate the writers in the retreat.

The writing retreat will focus on character, structure, unleashing your creativity and an opportunity to learn the tips and tricks of travel writing. It explores writing from a sense of place – how to immerse your readers in your chosen location through the use of sight, sound, smell, taste and touch – all senses heightened by the evocative surrounds of Fez. It will be held in the former Pasha's summer palace, Jardin des Biehn.

One of the luxury rooms at Jardin des Biehn.

Following a career in radio, television and print journalism in Australia and America, Lisa Clifford moved to Italy and wrote The Promise – an Italian Romance and Death in the Mountains published by Pan Macmillan. She is the author of Walking Sydney and her latest book, Naples – A Way of Love, was published in October 2013 by Penguin. Lisa contributes opinion pieces, guides and lifestyle articles on Italy to The Australian, The Australian Financial review, Gourmet Traveler and a range of other magazines and newspapers.

Lisa at work in the office at The View from Fez 

Other writers leading the retreat include photographer and author Suzanna Clarke and thriller writer Sandy McCutcheon.

For more information click here: The Art of Writing Fez

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Moroccan Photo of the Day ~Volubilis by Kimberley Lovato

Today's photo is by Kimberley Lovato, travel writer and author of Walnut Wine & Truffles - Culinary Adventures in the Dordogne

Click on image to enlarge

The View from Fez welcomes contributions for our photo of the day series. Our contact details can be found via link at the top of this page. See more Photos of the Day here


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The Art of Writing Fez

An intensive writing course will be held in the richly stimulating environment of the Fez medina from November 16 - 21

Conducted by three successful authors, Sandy McCutcheon, Suzanna Clarke and Lisa Clifford, The Art of Writing in Fez offers morning and afternoon lectures on writing and evening live Skype sessions with publishing professionals across the globe.

"Fez is a city that is full of sights, sounds, smells, textures and an overall ambience that thrills a writer," says Lisa. "It’s a place that makes you want to write, it inspires expression. Writers often need to take themselves out of their normal, everyday lives to feel afresh. Some of my best plot line ideas have come from being in a new environment that somehow seems to wakes me up. That’s how I feel about Fez. What a dream – to write in Fez!"

Lisa Clifford

The writing retreat will focus on character, structure, unleashing your creativity and an opportunity to learn the tips and tricks of travel writing. It explores writing from a sense of place – how to immerse your readers in your chosen location through the use of sight, sound, smell, taste and touch – all senses heightened by the evocative surrounds of Fez. It will be held in the former Pasha's summer palace, Jardin des Biehn.

Following a career in radio, television and print journalism in Australia and America, Lisa Clifford moved to Italy and wrote The Promise – an Italian Romance and Death in the Mountains published by Pan Macmillan. She is the author of Walking Sydney and her latest book, Naples – A Way of Love, was published in October 2013 by Penguin. Lisa contributes opinion pieces, guides and lifestyle articles on Italy to The Australian, The Australian Financial review, Gourmet Traveler and a range of other magazines and newspapers.

The Art of Writing in Fez follows on from a series of well attended writers' retreats that Lisa has run in Tuscany. "Running top quality, writers retreats was something I had wanted to do for a long time," she says. "I’ve been an expat writer for many years and found that spending hours at my desk alone whilst living the life of the solitary writer made me rather lonely. I began to travel often to join other writers in the UK or US, to be with people who felt fulfilled through writing. Then I decided to run writers retreats myself, only I wanted to design programmes that gave either emerging or established writers a handle on every aspect of improving their craft.

"I also wanted to provide them with opportunities to meet publishers and agents; to give writers the chance to pick professional’s brains (so to speak). By the time I started the Art of Writing I knew many successful international writers who, upon asking, were extremely enthusiastic to teach. After four books I very much wanted to help others write their story and crack the publishing world."

Sandy McCutcheon

The other tutors are long term residents of Fez. Sandy McCutcheon is the author of twelve novels, twenty-three plays, two musicals, a libretto, a memoir, a children’s book and also non-fiction and poetry work. 

He has worked in commercial and public radio in Australia, New Zealand and Finland, including 15 years as the presenter of ‘Australia Talks Back’ on Australia’s Radio National.



Suzanna Clarke is an author, photographer and journalist. She worked as a photographer, reviewer, travel and feature writer for The Courier-Mail in Queensland, Australia for eleven years, and then spent four years as Arts Editor. Her work has been regularly published by major Australian newspapers and national and international magazines. She has an MA in Creative Writing from the Queensland University of Technology and worked part-time as a lecturer in Non-Fiction Creative Writing for three years.

Suzanna Clarke with Mustapha the builder

Suzanna's non-fiction book A House in Fez, published by Penguin, has also been published in the United Kingdom, the USA, Korea and Poland. She now works as the Cultural Co-ordinator for the American Language Center in Fez.

"People often ask me about my experiences living in Fez, and how difficult they were to translate to the printed page. I've learned so much since I've been living here about the culture and the people, I want to share how some of those experiences and ways of conveying them with other writers. Another aspect of telling stories is taking photographs, and I will also be giving tips and tricks on this."

Lisa explains that, "My job is to get people on the road to telling their story, whatever story that may be....I’ve seen enormous benefit for emerging and established writers in gathering together in a group with creative writing teachers and others to learn. And I’m not talking about attending a course where you go home at the end of the day. I’m talking about getting together in a group to eat, learn, hike, drink and simply hang out together with no distractions for a week."

No matter what your genre, the Fez workshop aims to lift your ability to write well. Whether you simply love writing, have a stalled project in hand or need stimulating time to work out the seed of an idea, the goal of your time in Fez is to improve on all levels. The course is applicable to fiction, memoir, travel journalism, historical, romance, creative non-fiction and blogging.

For further information about the Art of Writing in Fez  CLICK HERE. 

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The Season of Women in White ~ Reflections on Mourning in Fez

It is the season of the women in white and the mat man is dead. Up on the roof a man is calling out to Lalla Malika. He has been calling for weeks, hour after hour. It is the season of the women in white. Their men are gone, taken by the cold, or heartbreak or poverty. For forty days they wear no colour, no makeup, no perfume. Their hands have no trace of henna. Their men are gone, just like the mat man. He was the last

Hidden away behind his door of rough-hewn planks the mat man dried the grasses he had harvested in summer. Patiently he wove the mats for the mosques until the Chinese stole the market, bringing in their container loads of plastic mats. The effect was toxic. The mat man fell to making placemats for tourists. He is gone. He was the last.

Up on the roof the madman still calls to Malika; the female djinn who seduces married men. There is only one thing sadder than a man possessed by a djinn and that is one abandoned by her. Malika, he calls, Malika, come now. There is no response. A rooster crows on a nearby terrace. The cats fight and overhead the falcons soar on the thermals. It is the season of the women in white.

Downward now, into the streets. In the alleyways the wafting smells of hammam smoke, hot bread from a firane, kefta cooking, tagine magic and spices, charcoal braziers and incense. Luban jawi - the black Javanese incense for the djinn who is not Malika. She, they say, not mentioning her name, she, who lives in water. She who comes at night and claims the men Malika has not caught.

Malika, come now. The call is fainter here, down on the cobbled street, darker too, here where the sun has averted its eye as if to shade the fact that Malika is not coming.

The cry of Malika fades away, replaced by the shuttle clicking of a loom behind a windowless wall. Children’s fingers hard at work. In dark spaces, gloom and cold surround the bucket maker amidst his cedar shavings and chips. And to the other side a man, face locked in a perpetual squint, embroidering sequins on a wedding dress for a woman whose destiny, like all her sisters, is to cast the garment aside and dress in white and walk the street alone.

Outside his door. The mat man no longer works here, squatting over his ancient wooden loom. He is gone, like Malika, and somewhere, walking in the alleyways amidst the noise and smoke and heady odours, is another woman dressed in white.

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Writers' Workshop in March in Morocco

Writer Christina Ammon

From March 10 to 17, American writer and adventurer Christina Ammon will be co-hosting Deep Travel, a writers' workshop in Moulay Idriss and Fez. Here Christina shares her initial experiences of Morocco 

I’ll be the first to say it: I’m an unlikely tour guide.

When I stepped off the ferry in Tangier in December of 2011, I didn’t even want to be in Morocco. How strange: Who wouldn’t jump to experience the Arabian Nights ambiance of Marrakech, to survey the infinite Sahara from atop a camel, and to indulge in savoury lamb tagines?

But as I lugged my suitcase off the boat onto the terminal platform, and looked across the Strait of Gibraltar toward Spain, I felt the pang of exile. I hadn’t arrived on my own terms. My EU visa had expired in Spain and Morocco was the nearest route to an exit stamp. My boyfriend would stay behind to repair our broken camper van. I would go it alone.

As I wandered Tangier’s cobbled medina, it wasn’t the touts and catcalls that bothered me, but the pure, simple fact of loneliness.

Christina at the location of A House in Fez

 I hid in a plush chair at El Minzah, once the watering hole of writers William Burroughs, and lost myself in the book, A House in Fez by Suzanna Clarke. While a jazz pianist played into the evening, I followed Clarke through her struggles to restore the crumbling walls and tile work of her riad in a country foreign to her. By the end of the book, Clarke felt like a friend.

Eventually I ventured back onto Tangier’s streets. What to do? I sat atop a camel and donned a fez for a photograph. I stroked Berber rugs and made faux friendships with guides. I was grateful to a kind waiter who made small chitchat and kindly carried my too-hot glass of mint tea two city blocks to my hotel every evening.

When word came from Spain that the truck was still not fixed, I moved on to Fez. There I sat alone in the cold center room of my hotel-riad and realized: I’d seen pretty mosques, studied zellij fountains, sampled dozens of different olives, but I hadn’t really had a real human connection in two weeks.

This was not the sort of travel that appealed to me.

And so I did something bold: sent an email Suzanna Clarke. I was surprised to get a quick response: An invite to dinner! That evening, over beef kefta I think they sensed my dislocation. When I arrived back to my riad and checked my email, there was an invite for me to stay with them.

I accepted and the next day they situated me in one of the rooms I’d read about in her book. I woke in the morning to sun slanting through the decorative wrought-iron window and a fruit tree so close it seemed I could nearly pluck an orange from bed. Together we wrote through the mornings over cups of spiced coffee, and in the evenings drank Moroccan mint cocktails while their cat purred by the heater. Day after day, I got word that the truck was still not repaired, but it was okay now. I was now wearing babouche slippers and a djellaba and dancing the time away with my new friends.

I ventured into the medina with newfound confidence. Fez’ harrowing network of 9,000 byways seemed less forbidding now, each turn now offering a story. Soon, I was penning articles for Conde Nast, The San Francisco Chronicle and The Oregonian, trying to capture all my discoveries—a charismatic local photographer, a winemaker, a big-hearted donkey veterinarian, a man passionate about the restoration of the medina, and a man who made the most magical spiced coffee.

Workshop hosts Erin Byrne and Christina Ammon

That first visit to Morocco was at the time a strange type of suffering, but ultimately about discovery. I’m happy to return to Morocco on entirely different terms—not to flee an expired visa and a broken-down truck, but to lead a workshop and a tour. This journey will be a special one, a potent one-week distillation of the gems it took me months to find.

Christina Ammon's Deep Travel writers' workshop, co-hosted with writer Erin Byrne and poet Anna Elkins, aims to share the best of what Morocco has to offer in the way of chefs, authors, photographers, and even winemakers in Fez and in Morocco’s most sacred city, Moulay Idriss. Other contributors include writer and photographer Suzanna Clarke, writer Sandy McCutcheon and photographer Omar Chennafi. 

To learn more about the workshop, which runs from March 10 -17, visit: 
http://www.e-byrne.com/workshop.html

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Travel Writing About Morocco ~ The UK Independent almost gets it right

Over the years The View from Fez has run an occasional series on travel writing about Morocco. We have given bouquets to the best and brickbats to the worst. It's been a while since our last travel writing story as a majority of travel stories lately have been well researched and written. 

A small part of the massive Fez Medina

However, this week we came across a piece on Fez by Stephen Bayley from the UK Independent. It is certainly well written, however, at times pedantic. Stephen's piece has all the hallmarks of an embedded journalist. His reflections, while sitting with a "large glass of Celliers de Meknes syrah and a view of the kasbah" - are amusing, if not always accurate. He starts off with a bold assertion about the name of the city...

It's Fès, not Fez. The latter is a hat of Turkish production, a dark red truncated cone with a tassel, not much favoured by the locals, despite what some guidebooks tell you. And Fassi is what the citizens of Morocco's fifth city call themselves. The confusion with the name is one of several misunderstandings about this astonishing place. Nineteenth-century orientalists, French expeditionary soldiers, drugged-up Americans of the Beat Generation (who enjoyed a cannabis jam known as majoun, taken internally) all knew Fès, but it has not secured a place in popular imagination in the same way as Marrakech.

For the record, the name of the city is Fes or Fez (Arabic: فاس‎ Moroccan Arabic: [fɛs], Berber: Fas,). If you are French you can write it Fès. The point is that as a transliteration from the Arabic, you can take your pick. As a local photographer put it, "Fes, Fez or Fas, we don't mind - jeeb laz ou l'caz - come for something good, or just leave!"

Access was always a problem: the erratic rail link from Tangier and Casablanca was an impediment to all but the intrepid, then British Airways failed to make a service from Gatwick work. Now a twice-weekly flight by Ryanair from Stansted gives us all the chance to be an explorer.

It is obviously a long time since the intrepid Stephen Bayley travelled by train to Fez. The services between Tangier and Casablanca are inexpensive and go almost hourly. There are also good (CTM) bus services and if you feel like a treat, a trip from Casa to Fez by car is available for around 1,500 dirhams. Ryanair is not the only airline and flights from a number of European cities make coming to Fez, either directly, or via Casablanca a low cost trip.

Part of the huge slipper souk in Fez

This is not a city abandoned to the fey pleasures of frivolous European travellers. Instead, it teems and squirms: urgent but polite, and elegant while often rough. The souk combines filth and mystery with the medieval sense which only a sweating Satanic blacksmith in a carbonised vault and a man next door specialising in severed goats' hoofs can bring. Even lawyers sit in cubbyholes in the souk.

It is this orientalist view where the writing gets carried away. For a start the Medina of Fez contains many souks (markets) - slipper souks, vegetable souks, ceramic souks, leather souks and so on - and "filth and mystery" are in the eye of the beholder. Rubbish collection in Fez is on a daily basis, which few cities in Britain or Europe can claim. And few of the lawyers I know would appreciate their offices being described as "cubbyholes"!

Fès food is an anomaly. There is a weird mismatch between what's abundantly available in the souk and what appears on menus. The souk teems with sellers of herbs, spices, fried fish, lemons, escargots, goat, tripe and artichokes, but restaurant menus are repetitive. Boiled salads – including nerveless cauliflower – are served in miniature tagines they were evidently not cooked in. Insipid grey "chicken in sauce" appears everywhere. I looked in vain for harira (the ethnic soup) or méchoui (a whole cooked lamb) or any sense of freshness and precision in the cooking. Solemnly, our guide said, summoning-up unhappy memories of things ill-digested past: "In Fès, one does not eat fish." Still, smells memorably define the souk. Lemon verbena is an insistent presence, but so too is donkey.

This is perhaps the strangest observation in Stephen's piece. That he couldn't find harira is a mystery as is his failure to find fabulous food. Maybe he needed to escape from his guide and the up-market restaurants and check out the food stalls and street food cafes. While many of the so called "palace restaurants" serve up the kind of tourist fare he mentions for coach loads of package holiday tourists, there are wonderful alternatives both in the Medina and the Ville Nouvelle.

One of the many food souks

That someone actually told him that "In Fès, one does not eat fish", is beyond belief. Not only are the fish markets stocked with wonderful fresh fish, but there are also local treats like the fresh trout from the Atlas mountains, John Dory fillet tagine with saffron and lemon confit, lobster, spider crab and the famous Oualidia oysters.

Fresh fish in Fez

Always there is music half-heard through walls. And the lingering memory of wondering if I have ever felt more clean than after the hammam. We soon learnt that the medina is not as un-navigable as they say. After a day you can find your way and there are no risks, apart from the chance acquisition of a carpet.

But you have doubts. Why, when mint tea is so popular, has no one made a teapot which pours efficiently? Most times, the liquor escapes more readily from the loose-fitting lid than the congested spout. And what is the psychology of a modernising country which insists on making Berber slippers, camel saddles, leather accessories, djellabas and carpets which no one ever willingly buys?

One does feel sorry for Stephen and his loose-fitting teapot, his lack of harira and the fact he didn't understand why people buy djellabas, carpets and slippers. About 90% of the goods produced in the Medina are bought by Moroccans, many of whom (whose teapot lids fit better) do like to wear slippers and djellabas. The Fez Medina is a living, working Medina with thousands of artisans producing goods which are consumed. That a camel saddle might look like an exotic addition to someone's European apartment, does not mean it's not needed on a camel.

You can read the full text of Stephen Bayley's piece here: Keep it under your hat, but Fès is for real

Other travel writing stories
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Writing Retreat in Moroccan Desert

Back in September 2012, The View from Fez ran a story about an unusual writers' retreat to be held in the Moroccan desert. (see story here) The retreat, run by Jan Cornall, is now underway

Writer and performer Jan Cornall mentors writers and teaches writing at Australian universities and community colleges. She also leads writing retreats and workshops in inspiring international locations - Bali, Fiji, Cambodia, Burma, and Laos. Each year a number of her students go on to publish with major publishing houses. As Jan explained to The View from Fez, her trip, which started a few days ago began in the streets of Fez before heading into the Moroccan desert.

The Australian writers pose in Riad R'cif before heading for the desert

The retreat takes place at Cafe Tissardmine, established by Australian artist Karen Hadfield. Cafe Tissardmine is fast becoming a hub for writers, painters, photographers, even scientists wishing to study desert flora and fauna

Writing The Journey - Morrocan Caravan, Jan 10 - 22, 2013.
www.writersjourney.com.au 
 www.cafetissardmine.com


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Jmaa el Fna ~ The restaurant at the end of the world

Camel’s head, sheep’s testicle, calf’s feet and plenty of less exotic treats – all to be had at Marrakech’s famous open-air restaurant. Derek Workman reports.

In 2008, Paula Wolfert’s book, Couscous and Other Good Food from Morocco, won the Cookbook Hall Of Fame award, twenty-five years after its publication. At the time, Moroccan cuisine would probably have seemed pretty exotic. These days fancy food trucks and posh catering carts may be blocking the highways in Europe and the US, but Morocco’s biggest street food heaven hasn’t moved in a thousand years.

Jmaa el Fna, The Place of the Dead, The Mosque at the End of the World, North Africa’s most vibrant and exotic square, the ancient heart of Marrakech, where snake charmers, storytellers and acrobats entertain the passing crowds. By day the bustle of henna artists, potion sellers, fresh orange juice vendors and red-robed water sellers; by night the curling smoke of a hundred barbeques spirals over the largest open-air restaurant in the world.

When dusk falls, handcarts are wheeled into Jmaa el Fna and unfolded to reveal portable grills, tables, benches, pots and pans. While the mounds of food are prepared young men in long white coats work the crowds trying to convince you that the succulent dishes served at their stall are the absolutely top-notch best; “Deliah Smith created our menu”, “All our fish comes fresh from Sainsbury’s”. And Sainsbury’s would probably be proud of the fish the stalls served, dipped in flour seasoned with salt and saffron before being deep-fried in bubbling oil until crisp and golden.

There are stalls to fit every taste and pocket; a bowl of harira, a traditional rich tomato and lentil soup with beef or chicken, seasoned with ginger, pepper, and cinnamon, or b’sarra, white bean soup with olive oil and garlic; add a sandwich served in a khobz, a small, round flat loaf with the top nipped off to form a pocket, filled with freshly deep-fried slices of liver dribbled with a green chilli sauce, or a hand-full of merguez, thin spicy sausages, and you will be set up for a stroll around the souks. (Keep an eye open for the really esoteric mixture of merguez, hard-boiled egg and tuna fish.)

Kebabs shops appear on almost every street corner around the globe these days, but in Marrakech vendors snub the effete pressed meat served elsewhere in favour of slices of real lamb, glistening with dribbling fat, sprinkled with cumin and salt as the cook hands it over to you wrapped in a paper cone. Chicken with preserved lemons, delicately spiced with kasbour (fresh green coriander) and served with piquant olives; brochettes of lamb and liver, seasoned with red pepper and cumin, carefully grilled over charcoal, which spits and smokes as the luscious fats fall on to it; beef or lamb tajines, cooked with raisins, prunes and almonds, have their conical tops whisked off by the waiters, just as the lids of elegant silver salvers would be at the Savoy. (Although you may want to leave the tajine of sheep’s or calf’s feet and the sliced camel’s head to the locals to enjoy, and it would take a certain amount of culinary courage to sample a cooked sheep’s head or bowl of sheep’s testicles – cooked, of course.)

On the west side of the square, a row of chefs steam mounds of snails in battered enamel bowls. The menu is simple, snails or snails, but as the little gastropods served in a tantalising broth are a gastronomic institution in Morocco, it isn’t always easy to get a seat at these stalls. Apparently wonderful for the digestion, locals drain the broth after having their fill of the snails. (They also often carry a safety pin to wheedle the little devils out, but a toothpick is usually provided.)

Vegetarians might not savour their best gastronomic experience, but it can delicious. Hard-boiled eggs are chopped and mashed with potatoes, with the inevitable sprinkle of cumin, (served alongside salt and pepper on every stall). Bright vegetable salads, glistening piles of savoury chick peas spiked with fresh-ground black pepper or bowls of lentil stew cooked with finely chopped onion and garlic; fried aubergine with a hot green pepper served alongside a pile of fresh cut and fried potatoes, all washed down with a glaringly orange Fanta.

Young boys man-handle small handcarts or struggle with large wooden trays laden with glistening sweetmeats through the densely packed crowds. Delectable as the pastries may look, aren’t always that sweet. If your taste is for fruit for desert, try, carmose, prickly pear, and the vendor will carefully remove the skin for you.

For a simple wandering snack, strings of sfenj donuts are held together by a strip of leaf to make carrying easier. They are delicious with a coffee, and come either sweet (with egg beaten into the batter) or savoury. Also useful for a back-up snack on long journeys.

If you haven’t washed your meal down with a drink at the stall, a glass of fresh orange juice will be squeezed before your eyes at one of the many carts around the edge of the square. You might also find raisin, pistachio and pomegranate juice, which have a mysterious flavour of their own. The Technicolor yogurts sold in big glasses look more off-putting than delectable, but raib, a home-made yoghurt with a milkshake consistency, slides down the throat deliciously.

The beautiful chaos of the food stalls is entertainment in its own right, but when you have eaten your fill there is still the raucous street entertainment of Jmaa el Fna to keep you from your bed.

Photos and story: Derek Workman

Derek Workman is an English journalist and regular contributor to The View from Fez. At present he is living in Valencia City, Spain – although he admits to a love of Morocco and would love to up sticks and move here. To read more about life in Spain visit Spain Uncovered. Articles and books can also be found at Digital Paparazzi.

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Writing the Journey - a Moroccan Desert Retreat

Writer and performer Jan Cornall mentors writers and teaches writing at Australian universities and community colleges. She also leads writing retreats and workshops in inspiring international locations - Bali, Fiji, Cambodia, Burma, and Laos. Each year a number of her students go on to publish with major publishing houses. As Jan explained to The View from Fez, 2013 will see her run a writers' retreat that begins in the streets of Fez before heading into the Moroccan desert

When I decided I wanted to run a desert writing journey in Morocco I was lucky to find the ideal place - an oasis retreat in the a tiny traditional Berber village, perched on the edge of one of the Sahara’s most extraordinary natural landforms, the 22 km long sand dune, Erg Chebbi.

Established by Australian artist Karen Hadfield, Cafe Tissardmine is slowly becoming a hub for writers, painters, photographers, even scientists wishing to study desert flora and fauna.

Karen was on a short holiday to Erg Chebbi in 2010 when it all became clear - this was where she would set up an artist’s retreat. She found her renovators dream, a mud brick ruin in Tissardmine village, and with business partner Yousef Bouchedor, set about converting it into a guest house. Located 30km from the well travelled towns of Erfoud and Rissani, Cafe Tissardmine is a place of tranquility, ‘where the loudest thing you will hear is the birdsong.’

In January, our twelve day writer’s journey begins in Fez with a day and a night to explore the ancient city before we head out by four wheel drive to Tissardmine. For our six day desert retreat we sleep in traditional Berber tents (complete with en-suite bathrooms) and attend daily workshops and readings in the comfortable artist’s salon.

Taking our inspiration from the cosmology of the Moroccan star, we will explore the mystical significance of the eight cardinal directions and the areas of writing craft they relate to. Excursions into the desert from our base will employ the senses and elements to capture the unique desert experience and transform it into powerful writing. We will complete our journey with a breathtaking drive across the Atlas Mountains to Marrakech, where we will celebrate our writing achievements with a feast of Moroccan culture.

Please join us if you would like to come. Writers of all genres and all levels of experience are welcome. Creative artists, photographers, performers - even if you have no idea what you might write you will be surprised what you are capable of.

Writing The Journey - Morrocan Caravan, Jan 10 - 22, 2013.
www.writersjourney.com.au 
 www.cafetissardmine.com

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Tantalising Tangier

Glenys Roberts, writing for the Mail Online has a fine piece about Tangier. Here is an edited extract and a link to the full article.

Tangier - photo: Sandy McCutcheon

Bohemian rhapsody: Falling (again) for Tangier, Morocco's exuberant swirl of a city

Welcome to expat heaven Tangier, Morocco, where the British still cling to an elegant social round, for the most part long gone in the mother country.  With their own church, their favourite hotel, the Minzah, built by the immensely rich Marquis of Bute in the Thirties; their own riding school; and their own cemetery (and pet cemetery), it is one of world traveller Michael Palin's favourite destinations as described in his book Sahara. Palin tells of the typically bizarre churchyard scene when Birdie, an elderly white pet cockerel, took a bite out of a retired widow called Lady Baird.

Quite why I fell in love with Tangier and its eccentric ways, I can't remember. I have been visiting it since the Sixties and seen it change from a scruffy town to a modern city with French restaurants, beach bars and a summer influx of some of Europe's richest people.

Mick Jagger, who has kept a flame alive for it almost as long as I have, paid a flying visit this year to see his favourite jeweller Majid, and I met Sixties rock chick Pattie Boyd, still looking a million dollars stretched out under a coconut hair parasol.

Tangier has some fabulous restaurants - photo Sandy McCutcheon

I first visited the white city, as it is known because of its dazzling buildings and fabulous light, on a day trip from Gibraltar on the shuttle plane run in those days by Gibair. When the plane was grounded by sea mist, the company put us up in the Minzah Hotel. With its entrance in the middle of the town and view over the bay, it is surely one of the best-placed hotels in the world.

The view from El Minzah is stunning

It is hard to think of a better positioned town either. On a headland where the Atlantic meets the Mediterranean and overlooking Cape Trafalgar, where Nelson lost his life, it is a must for history buffs. The town has had Western visitors ever since the 17th- century diarist Samuel Pepys was sent there to wind up the British garrison in 1683.

Gore Vidal came to Tangier for the boys, Errol Flynn for the girls. Matisse and Degas came to paint and couturier Yves Saint Laurent to gain inspiration for his collections. Tennessee Williams came to write and so did Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs. Winston Churchill and Aristotle Onassis both visited and the legendary American writer Paul Bowles moved in.

Paul Bowles in Tangier ~ photo by Jearld F Moldenhauer, courtesy Dar Balmira Gallery, Gzira Fes Medina

Today, the King of Morocco, Mohammed VI, is determined to make it a showcase city. He has built a corniche at the base of the kasbah and a marina that he hopes will make it into another Monaco. There is so much confidence in the air that the Spanish come to look for work in construction. And there are so many French intellectuals - French is still the lingua franca - at times it is possible to imagine oneself on the Left Bank in Paris.

Old Tangier hands like myself hope our favourite town will not end up a concrete jungle as parts of Europe have done, but whatever happens it is difficult to imagine it being altogether changed. It is built on so many hills that there will always be those tempting glimpses through the buildings to the sea. When I first visited, many of the women were veiled. Now the French sunbathe topless and the carpet sellers speak perfect English. You can gamble in the casinos, you can drink in the restaurants and quad-bike and surf on the beaches.

In Tangier people still know how to enjoy the moment. They love to sit around in cafes watching the world go by and not worrying what the next day will bring. It is such a cultural shift it makes for a very relaxing holiday. Most of all there is the impression, because of Tangier's history, of living in several centuries and several countries all at the same time.


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