Fez tanneries

For most of this week, I hung around the city of Fez, the worlds largest living medieval islamic city. It's famous for having the oldest tanneries in the world. A trip to Fez wouldn't be complete without visiting these tanneries.

While wandering through the medina, an undeniable sign that you're getting close to the tanneries is the putrid wafts of pure raunchiness.
I met 3 lovely Korean travelers at my hostel and we decided to visit the tanneries together.

We climbed a spiral staircase to one of the shop terraces to view the men at work. Before stepping onto the rooftop, we're handed a sprig of mint from the shop owner to put under our nose. Before I had a chance to use it, an offensive dead animal smell assaulted my nose and caused me to gag. I held my breath and placed my scarf over my nose and put the mint sprig over that, hoping to drown out the horrendous stench. It didn't work.

The tanneries contain several small cement pools filled with a foul concoction of pigeon shit and cow urine, among other mystery fluids. These pools are either white or vivid shades of red, orange and yellow. They're like giant Easter egg dippers. The men stomp, prod and grind the dead animal skins with their bare feet, making the skins soft and helping the dye to take hold. They do all of this while wearing little Daisy Dukes.

Everything is done by hand, no machines are used. It's quite impressive that they have kept this tradition up for so many years.
Mike Rowe needs to come here to film an episode of "Dirty jobs". These workers are hard core. I don't know how they can do this everyday. This job is not only disgusting, but it's hazardous to their health. These dedicated workers wade around in animal excrement and chemicals all day long. Yea.... that can't be good. Ewwwww. (Ernest goes to camp face)

After you've seen enough, you're invited (or forced) to check out the shop owner's leather products on your way out. They are very persistent. One of the pesky men tried to sell me a foot rest made from a baby goat. I looked at him with sad eyes and exclaimed "that's a baby goat?!" I knew that would deter him. Not even the best salesman could have sold that foot rest to this vegetarian and one time vegan. Plus, as mean as it sounds, I'm not interested in contributing to the income of such mean spirited people.
He gave up shortly after I said that and moved on to my Korean friends.
The sexual harassment from the locals has continued, but I've gotten better at dealing with it. Like a duck, I let it roll off my back. I realize they are uneducated, immature, lascivious, filthy pigs with uncontrollable raging hormones. I'm sure they had a bad childhood.
The comparison of walking alone in Morocco and walking with other travelers is like night and day. The ravenous beasts tear into me when I'm by myself, tormenting me like a grade school bully. They must see me as being weak, like a lone wounded deer. I still shudder when they whisper Moroccan-accented crude sexual remarks in my ear as I pass by. I always have my guard up and I trust no one.
I've grown more accustomed to the nasty nature of the locals with the horns on their heads. The bad attitude is ever present, however, I've found the locals of Fez to be much more lighthearted than in Marrakech. I can almost see a tiny glimmer of kindness in their brown eyes. Almost....
All this disrespect makes me want to sneak into the mosque and play Aretha Franklin's "R-E-S-P-E-C-T" on the loudspeaker. They need to learn that this is 2012 and that's not the way you treat a lady!!
I've begun to give them a taste of their own medicine. Shopkeepers are still giving me daily marriage proposals, so I decided to play their game. If you can't beat em', join them! Passing by one shopkeeper, he says "hello beautiful, what are you looking for?" Without missing a beat, I say "A husband!" His eyes light up and he says, "Really?! Me! I will be your husband!" I chuckle and keep walking. He desperately follows me and says "Come back! I like you! I want to marry you!" There was a strange truthfulness in his tone of voice. Then another shopkeeper chimes in "Me too!"
Oh boy, what did I start? I strut away. I look back and smirk at them. Sorry boys........ in your dreams! Haha.
Time passes quickly as I wander around the old city's 9000 streets. With so many unorganized streets, getting lost is inevitable, even for this exceptionally gifted navigational chica. If you get too lost, you can always ask a local for directions, but be prepared when they hold out their hand for money after they bring you to your desired location. They would never think of doing anything for a tourist for free. Extracting every last penny possible from us is what they live for.
Some common sights you will see while wandering through the medina in Fez:
- A man walking with half a dozen dead chickens tied together, hanging over his shoulder.

-Locals shuffling next to you wearing their djellaba, looking like wizards from Harry Potter.
-Countless leather products on display in shops crammed side by side.

-All natural stores selling perfume, soap and spices, with old men available to explain each mystery powder one by one.
-Dirty, timid stray cats darting in front of you, on a search for their next meal.
-The eerie call to prayer droning over the loud speakers from the mosques, signifying it's time to pray.
-The wide load of a donkey brushing past you as you squeeze up against an exquisite mosaic drinking fountain.

There are over 5000 donkeys in Fez, used for transporting different things throughout the medina. The owners yell out warnings in Moroccan for you to get out of the way.

I know I haven't had too many nice things to say about Morocco and it's clear that it's not my favorite country.
Though I highly doubt I will ever return to Morocco, at least not alone, it was "nice" to experience it once in my life. Having said that, I can't wait to get the heck outta here! Off to Italy! Ciao!