Fez!

If there is an easier way of rearranging photos in Blogger, I haven't figured it out. So some of the following photos will be very obviously out of order. The previous Morocco posts also had disordered photos, but at least they were not obviously so.

I can't remember why I decided to upload this picture. Maybe I wanted to show you more photos of Moroccans. The ones here are pretty typical: women in traditional robes, men in tight jeans and leather jackets.

Probably the best pedestrian crossing sign I have ever seen. No, wait, the ones in Northampton, Massachusetts were better..but those can't really count because the hula hoop and sneaker were stickers.

I can't say from experience, but I imagine if you're viewing Morocco from one of these buses, you could've saved a lot of money and just rented a National Geographic documentary.

I missed the entrance to the medina because some dude was being annoying. I think he wanted to give me a tour, despite the fact that my reply to everything he said was "I don't speak French." So I started walking towards something entrance-like, but never actually reached it because I got distracted by this path I needed to walk down. Then when I was walking down this path I met some kids, who showed me their bag of snails, then led me up a hill for a gorgeous view and down a hill into the medina.

An archway in the medina.

Inside the medina.

This is one of those obviously-out-of-order photos I warned you about. I took this photo at the train station (or wait, maybe this wasn't even in Fez, come to think about it...). I was intrigued both by the concept of a prayer room and by its placement next to the toilets.

Back inside the medina.

The metal-workers section.

Susan Orlean wrote an article about Moroccan donkeys in Smithsonian. Before I came to Morocco I could only imagine Gambian donkeys, so I was puzzled and concerned when she described them with adjectives like "cute." But now I see she was right!

A photo of the university, where I spent one night before the administration said "non." Or, wait, they probably spoke Arabic. I don't know how to say "no" in Arabic. But that's what they said.

He's making a carpet!

There were amusing items in the display case (false teeth, etc) but I realize now you can't see them in the photo.

He's weaving something out of cactus silk.

At the tanneries. These were the vats to remove the hair, if I'm remembering correctly.

They change the colors in the dye vats every two two days. Or was it every two weeks? Gee, my memory's awful. Anyway, this day it was red and brown. Yellow is always hand-dyed because the dye is made from saffron, which is very expensive.

This woman is preparing the pits used to make argan oil. The traditional method of processing the oil begins by collecting the pits from goat feces.

Again, I warned you...

Just breathing in this shop made me nervous.

In this shop I learned the difference between the Hand of Davida and the Hand of Fatima; they face in different directions. So now I can know whether the people living behind a door are Jewish or Muslim. Except I forget which direction was which so... never mind.

A man taking his goose for a walk? This would have been a strange sight anywhere, but I was in the modern part of Fez, kilometers from any farm, so it was particularly strange.