Our bus ride to Fes was probably one of the most scenic we’ve had since arriving in Morocco. Not only were we surrounded by rolling green hills and pristine blue lakes, but as we reached further into the High Atlas Mountains we even passed through falling snow. It was really surreal.
We arrived late that evening and headed straight to our hostel where we planned to stay for the next three nights. They had a promotion where by staying three nights would get you a fourth night free, so as we weren’t in any rush, liked the look of the place and thought we’d have enough to keep us occupied, chose to extend the extra night.
The next morning we decided to get lost in the medina which is apparently the largest in Africa. We weren’t exactly sure why but we liked the feel of the medina in Fes over Marrakech or Essaouira. After spending the day wandering aimlessly it was time for dinner, so we decided to check out a grilled meat sandwhich shop named Mister Ayachi and supposedly one of the best in Fes.
After finally tracking it down we discovered that it was closed, so turned back disappointed and hungry. We were discussing what else we could eat when we saw a tiny shop with locals packing in through the doorway. We pushed through to find that the tiny eatery sold some type of battered mashed potato balls which were fried and served with hand cut chips, a fried egg, green bell pepper and spicy sauce. I opted to have it all packed into a sandwhich while Anita opted for the plate. We pushed away our finished plates satisfied and as we exited were only asked to pay an astonishing 1.40AUD. Now THAT’S value.
The next day we packed our day bags and headed for Mount Zalagh, a six hour hike which took us out of the medina, through some rolling fields and up a steep slope to an incredible view across Fes. We couldn’t believe such a beautiful hike existed only a few minutes outside of the medina walls. We also met some young Moroccan boys along the way who invited us to a tagine on the top of the peak, but as we wanted to get back before dark we politely declined. We got back to the hostel and rested up a short while before returning to our fried potato ball man for another round.
Our last day in Fes was a lazy one. Our legs were a little stiff from the hike and the time to leave Morocco to Spain was fast approaching, so we thought we’d use it as a bit of a planning day to get ourselves organised for the coming month. We couldn’t leave without one last fried potato ball feed before packing our bags for yet another bus; this time to the beautiful blue city of Chefchaouen.