A Harrowing Experience: A Brief Post

Tuesday, June 6th, 2017

Fes, Morocco

Wow what a few days. 

We've been so busy I've barely had time to post, much less edit vlogs. But I'd thought I'd share a particularly harrowing story with you, to tide you over. 

There are very few moments in my life where I have felt genuinely afraid. In South Africa, I actually thought I might be eaten by a lion. One time in 3rd grade, we had to go into our tornado warning positions, and I thought the school was going to be hit and I'd never see my family again. One time when I was at... You know what as I'm writing this, I realize there have actually been a number of times I have been genuinely afraid. Whatever. The point is, this experience ranks right below tornado warning. (Which sounds lame now, even to me, but I swear, it was really traumatizing at the time. There were some tears shed.)

For context, a medina is defined by the ever-useful Google as "the old walled part of a North Africain town". The medina in Fes is HUGE.  (All those buildings along the skyline? Medina.)

A labyrinth of 9,000 alleyways and streets, all about 3 feet wide, tops. No cars, only donkeys, mules, stray cats and people. It's crowded, it's loud, and it's like nowhere I've ever been. Add in the fact that most people speak Arabic, and you stand out as an American tourist. Thankfully, we hired a guide, Mohammed.

All was fine. We saw the local produce market. We saw a whole shop filled to the roof with sheep's wool, with women sorting it into usable piles. After two turns, we would have been completely lost without our guide. We saw the tannery, where they prepare the animal hides. We saw the Quranic school. We got pulled into I don't know, four or five, different "special shops". 

("Special shops" are a universal tourist trap. I don't know how they remain so consistent across continents, but I swear, they are EVERYWHERE. You hire a guide or go with a tour group, and they'll take you to see whatever site you hired them for, and then, on the way back, they say something along the lines of "Oh my friend has a beautiful pottery shop. We must go. They'll give you a very special price!" or "My brother sells the most beautiful rugs. They're made by widows, and all the money goes to support them! They'll give you such a good deal!" And then you go, and they give you a whole spiel about how much they appreciate your business, and no pressure, and here's something to drink, can they tell you about the product? It's a pinch of interesting, two cups of amusing, and about 16oz of irritating. Rant over.)

Anyway, going well. Until we're walking back to the car, and we look over our shoulder and Dad is gone. We wait. Our guide waits. We try to call him (for about $1000 a minute), but it goes straight to voicemail. Finally, our guide says, "Stay right here! I'm going to look for him!" and leaves us in an alleyway. Three ladies, alone, in an alley, no map, can't speak Arabic (can speak French, so at least there's that), no guide, and no idea what happened to Dad. 

Then, a man we recognized from the "special restaurant" (see "special shops") and he says, "Stay here. We're all looking for him. We've contacted the police. And runs off again. Great. We're starting to really worry as minute 20 rolls around. Because why wouldn't Dad have called us to find us, once he'd noticed we were separated? And if he'd just taken a wrong turn, how come it was taking so long to find him?

Finally, our Mohammed returns. Without Dad. He calls Dad and no answer. He's about to go search again when Dad calls back our guide. We hear Mohammed talk, but we don't speak to Dad at all. So we were just hoping it was really him on the other side. Mohammed hangs up, after asking Dad to pass the phone to a local who knew where they were. Then we set off, back to the parking lot. 

Mohammed hoped in a van, and drove off, to fetch Dad at another parking lot. We were so relieved when we saw them coming back. It was an extremely stressful 30 minutes. Meanwhile, Dad had been behind us, when a huge fight broke out between us and him. We were in such a hurry to keep up with our guide (he's a real fast walker) that we didn't notice for a few blocks. By the time the fight broke up, we were long gone. He tried calling but had no service that deep in the Medina. He found someone to take him to the parking lot, but it was the wrong lot. Luckily, he did have cell service at the other lot and was able to get a hold of us. 

Next time we're not going into the Medina without GPS trackers implanted in all our ears. That's the only logical method of prevention here. 

I've got some great vlogs coming your way real soon, with the medina, and Fes, and ancient Roman towns, and Spain... Just hold tight. 

Xo, 

Cristiana