Près du puits

By the way, how's the mudbrick house ?

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sat, 19 Feb 2011 17:29:00 +0000

Honestly, I don't really know. I'm in Fez most of the time, and Fred spends his days in Meknès.

So, you shouldn't be asking me.

No, instead, ask him.

"Titi", newcomer in Ouled Emgatel. Eats lost of mice (I hope), and is daredevil (I hope not too much, though - dogs don't like cats here)

The Hamadchas on Swiss radio

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 19:18:00 +0000

Phew, you'd think this blog has been abandoned. The thing is, I updated my French blog (slightly) more regularly. So, go there to read a recap of the year 2010 by the well, or here to see new pictures of our Moroccan mudbrick house.

I leave you with a wonderful radio program, featuring Fred and the Hamadcha brotherhood. It was made by Vincent Zanetti, from Radio Suisse Romande. It's in French, but there is plenty of beautiful music, so don't hesitate to listen to it : L'écoute des mondes.

Abderrahim Amrani and the young Hamadchas of Fez

Ouled Mgatel: And the title of my blog was prophetic

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 19:46:00 +0000

We were much closer to the well than we thought!

Let's see.

Our mudbrick house.

The driveway.

Our beautiful, but arid land.

And there it is,

our treasure,

our well!

We've been told that there was a well on our land. But where exactly ? Nobody knew.. These last two years, it has rained a lot. And there was a place, below our house, where the soil was wet, despite the heat of the summer. The boys dug, and surprise!

Water on our land means a lot of things. No more tractor bringing a water tank every other week. A green garden all year round. Easier life for everybody - for us, and for the boys who take care of the house.

"Frédéric el Hamdouchi"

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 17:28:00 +0000

A few videos of Fred, who is working on mudbrick house in Ouled Mgatel - he's brave, believe me, it's very hot in Morocco.
First, his last time on Moroccan TV(I can't remember the name of the show). And for the first time, he's singing alone :

And then, an old video put online by our friend Mickaël (thanks!)

3 days in Tarifa

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 15:08:00 +0000

Oops. I haven't written much on my blog lately. The French version is updated more regularly, so don't hesitate to go there if you want to know what I've been up to.

In June, we did a small trip to Tarifa, Spain. It was actually our first real week-end since we started to work at Luxe Radio.

I discovered the city four months ago, but didn't really have the time to visit and go to the beach. This time, we stayed three days, and it's worth it.

On the first night, we met in a bar two friends from our hometown, Leila and Benoit. It happened totally by chance, and somehow it was really crazy. (Leila made the website of the beautiful Georgian restaurant in Nancy, Chez Vassili).

Since they know everything about Tarifa, they told us what we needed to know about croquetas and canas. Yum.

And the next day, we went Plaza del Viento, and we walked along the beach. It was really nice.

Unfortunately, the vacations were way too short for my taste, and we had to go back to Fez.

But if you can, don't hesitate to go to Tarifa. It will steal your heart, and, if you hang out in the trendiest bar in town, you might just see Leila too, with her green shoes.

(Fred was sick. But with a turban on his head, he felt better).

Life in Fez : The Story of a Cemetery

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Wed, 02 Jun 2010 16:15:00 +0000

A while ago, I discovered the Christian cemetery, in the Ville Nouvelle of Fez.

People buried here are mostly French, Spanish et Italian; but, in the military area, there are also a lot of Moroccans, and Sub-Saharan Africans.

Thousands of stories are buried there - I would love to know more about them.

- I know I have been writing much on the blog lately. Lots, lots of work. But I update my French blog more regularly, so if you want to see more pictures of Ceuta, this lovely Spanish/African town, go here; and to know more about our home-made (and tiny) recording studio - for our job at Luxe Radio - it's here.

Seuta/Sebta: A piece of Europe in Africa

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sun, 18 Apr 2010 19:03:00 +0000

A few weeks ago, we went to Sebta - in Moroccan Arabic, or Ceuta in Spanish.

As you can see on the map, Sebta is in Spain - but also in Africa. Going there, coming from Morocco, is really a weird experience.
We tried to cross the border with our car, before we realized we hadn't got the international insurance. We had to go back to Fnideq - where we saw the goat - to park the car in a parking garage, and then to take a taxi to the border. This time, we walked through the borders.
In Spain, taxi again, and we finally arrived in Ceuta, wonderful little city - with great tapas bars.

A few pictures to show you the cultural shock (none of the tapas bars, unfortunately).

And there, not so far away (just behind the hill), Morocco.

Fnideq's Goat

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Thu, 25 Mar 2010 17:29:00 +0000

Once upon a time in Fnideq, a small town in northern Morocco, there was a car that really needed to be washed.

So the car went to the shop.

And in the trunk of the car, there was a little white goat, and that goat really needed a shower too.

But once washed, the goat started to shiver.

No problem though: she put on her cardigan.

(and then, just like that, she felt like calling someone).

A very small trip: Meknes

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Wed, 17 Mar 2010 16:41:00 +0000

It starts at the beautiful new train station of Fez.

A few years ago I would take the train to go to Meknes almost every day. That's only sixty kilometers or so from Fez, but at the time there was only one track - and there were delays all the time. More often than once, what was supposed to be a one-hour ride would become a two-hours trip. I would often come home at 9 p.m. , and I had to go back to Meknes the next morning at 6 a.m.
That's probably why I don't like to go to Meknes - in my mind, the city means lack of sleep.

(But there are two tracks now, and bridges that shorten the trip; and the train ride only lasts a half-hour - it's like magic).

I only know the Ville nouvelle of Meknes. That's where is the French high school where I taught for two years.

Come visit the city with me; it's a little like Fez, but at the same time, very different.

- If you want to see more pictures, go to my flickr page.

Fez-Tarifa-Fez: Itinerary of a French immigrant in Morocco

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sat, 27 Feb 2010 19:40:00 +0000

Yes, when you no longer have the "carte de séjour" (in my case, because I have a new job, and my contract is not good enough for me to get the residency), you need to leave the country every three months.

(I obviously don't want to complain here. Morocco is a lot more generous than France in this regard.)

So last week, after having postponed my trip at least three times, I booked a hotel room in Tarifa, Spain, and I left.

At the train station, in Fez, they told me that the tracks were flooded in the north, between Sidi Kacem and Tangier; so, instead, train until Kenitra, and then bus, until Tangier.

Our train was maybe the worst train in Morocco - the one with the broken loudspeakers that make a crazy noise, and where it's freezing.

I arrived in Tangier, I went through the mandatory formalities, and here was my boat.

It was nice, and fast.

The boat didn't stay empty for long; a lot of very hungry, very thirsty, and very loud people got on board.

I was a little groggy when I arrived in Tarifa, and it was pouring with rain. I sat on a bench, and waited a little.

I had photocopied a map of the town, but of course I lost it somewhere between Kenitra and Tangier.

Very quickly though I understood that I wouldn't have any problem to find my hotel, since Tarifa is a tiny town.

In any case, Tarifa is very nice; usually, there are a lot of surfers, but in the winter, it was empty.

I couldn't believe how clean and comfortable my hotel room nice - I really got used to the dirty rooms of the cheap hotels of Fez and Casablanca.

Then I had a beer in a bar; it's was empty, except for the owner and a big bouddha above the counter (eight o'clock i's too early for the "apéritif" in Spain)

The restaurant where I had dinner was deserted as well; I got back to the hotel.

The next morning, a little more than 12 hours after I arrived in Spain, I was back in the harbor.

This time I took a picture of the Moroccan coast; it's so close that it's disturbing.

Those two ducks (?) seemed lost in the sea.

When I bought my ticket, I was told that the captain wasn't sure we could leave, because of the wind. But then he decided it was ok.

The sea was raging; this time, no bar or sandwiches for anybody. Only the stewardesses were able to stand, ready to clean the mess and gather the vomit bags.

I collapsed in my chair, and I concentrated very hard on the TVs and their hypnotic perfume ads.

After having seen Kate Moss and Cloë Sevigny for what seemed to be the hundredth time, I realized we were in Tangier and that I hadn't been that sick.

The sun didn't shine for long. I fell asleep in the bus, and when I woke up my seat was wet - it was raining a lot, and there was a leak in the window by my seat.

Then, in the train, we drove through the flooded field. A little before Meknes, the train stopped; the rain had swept away the ballast, and we needed to wait for the workers to take care of it.

Finally, I arrived in Fez 36 hours after I left, with a brand new stamp in my passport.

I won ! My blog is the "BOMB" !

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 06:50:00 +0000

Bonjour !

Yes, I won the "Best of Morocco Blog Awards", in the category "Personal blog" ! I'm so happy, and proud of my little blog !

Thank you, it wouldn't have been possible without you !

And otherwise, some news:
-Bachir is getting better, but he's still not capable of working; I don't know if he will ever be.
- Fouad is still taking care of the house, since our life right now is in Fez. And he's doing a great job.
- Fred started yesterday a new exciting adventure - but really I can't say more about it.
- As for me, I am working on my new job. I start tomorrow, and I'll tell you all about it soon.
- And our mudbrick house ? Well, despite the torrential rains, it's ok. I miss it, I miss Ouled Emgatel, and I know we'll come back, but right now it's just work, work, and more work.

Fred's adventures in Morocco: a tour of Sidi Ali, and a video

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 18:17:00 +0000

Last year, Fred worked on a projet for a big website devoted to the sufi brotherhood he works with, the Hamadcha brotherhood.

We had no news of the website, but we learned a few days ago that it was online - finally.

It's in Arabic, but here are the highlights of the site.

First, the virtual tour of the two mausoleums of the most important saints of the brotherhood, in two villages near Meknes. (The wonderful 360 degrees panoramas were made by Sylvain.)
First, you have the mausoleum of Sidi Ali Ben Hamdouch, the founding saint of the Hamadchas.

The other mausoleum is that of Sidi Ahmed Dghoughi, Sidi Ali Ben Hamdouch's follower.

And, when you're done with those great pictures, go see Fred's video on the same website. You'll note his wonderful haircut (I don't know what happened), and also that his name on the url has been somehow hispanicized, from "Calmès" to "Golmez" (I don't what happened either - but after all, Fred's grandfather was from the south of France, so I guess that's close enough).

Life in Fès: A Walk in the Atlas

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 16:33:00 +0000

I'm ashamed of this, but I posted this on my French blog more than one month ago; and I'm even more ashamed to say that I considered not translating it, just posting the pictures (lazy me). But finally, I don't know how (I'm so tired of the computer because I've been working on it 10 hours a day - new, exciting job!), I managed to do it. So here you are.

Sometimes, I'd rather be somewhere else; go far away, see new places, speak other languages.

For me, right now, this isn't possible. Too much work.

And when I leave Fez, it's to go to Casablanca or Rabat - not the best places to relax.

So, I just take a walk in the Atlas, a neighborhood in Fez, in the Ville Nouvelle. It costs nothing, and it's just a few minutes from my apartment.

It's one of my favorite places in Fez. It's popular, lively, and colorful - and it's the place to go for food, with a lot of small restaurants, and all kinds of stores.

On the next photo, you can see buckets of khlie, dried beef, preserved in fat. It's delicious, and quite expensive.

(it's often hard to take pictures in the street in Morocco. You need to ask people for their permission - well, I guess you don't need to, but it's more polite. Most people agree, but sometimes not, like this guy who was selling vegetables. He got quite angry actually. But too late, I had stolen that photo).

Just by the CTM (the national bus compagny), there is an old man who sells used books. I sometimes buy European magazines from him, for 5 dirhams.

Nominated !

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 07:40:00 +0000

Hi everybody,

I know, I haven't been around much lately.

Because I found a new, very exciting job. But very different from what I'm used to do.

I'll be back very, very soon.

Oh, and by the way, I've been nominated by Morocco Blogs in the category "Best personal blogs". Please vote for me! (I'm on the right sidebar). Merci beaucoup!

Update: Thanks too my dear readers, I'm now first in my category! Keep voting !

Joyeux Noël

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Fri, 25 Dec 2009 08:40:00 +0000

Merry Christmas ! Here in Fez nobody seems to know that it's today.

(and the new year was last week... confusing.)

Christmas rabbit with glasses and dog pretending to be a reindeer found on Fill(es) with color.

No rain in Ouled Mgatel, and a promise

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sun, 29 Nov 2009 08:11:00 +0000

Time passes very slowly in Morocco, december is almost here, and the sun still shines in Ouled Mgatel, and it still hasn't rained.

That's a big relief for us, -we had plenty of time to fix the house - but a bad sign for all our neighbors.

Last year, at this time, we were in the mud and the rain, and we were living in a crappy hotel in Fez.

Now we have a comfortable life here in our apartment in Fez, but we still don't go very often to our mudbrick house (even though we just spent a week-end there with French friends who live in a yurt in France and who thought that our house was a palace).

We'll be back.

(and this is, hopefully, the last picture of our house in that shape... not proud).

The Hamadcha of Fez: Transmission of a Precious Heritage

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 17:30:00 +0000

They are between ten and sixteen years-old.
They live in Fez.
Their grand-fathers, and their great-grand-fathers before them were Hamadcha, Moroccan sufis.
Their fathers too.

But their parents never encouraged them to take this road. That is, to become Hamadchas. Because it doesn't pay well, because it's not prestigious.

It was without counting on the passion of one man, Abderrahim Amrani Marrakchi, and on the energy of those kids.

So, are you wearing your djellaba and your babouches? Yes? Let's enter this mysterious house in the medina of Fez.

And let's get carried away by the music of the Hamadcha. (by the way, I hope you like to dance)

(in case you don't know, Fred has been working with the brotherhood for several years. If you want to know more about it, go on his website).

Back to Ouled Mgatel, and a Goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 07:36:00 +0000

After a busy month in Fez, we finally came back to Ouled Mgatel.

Where we saw that it hadn't rained that much there - when there had been floods again in other areas of Morocco -, and that everything is fine in our house, for the moment anyway. Heavy rains will be back in a month or two, which give us the time to do the work the house needs.

And we said goodbye to our cat Mioche. He had survived two food poisonings, a fall from the window of our appartement in Fez, and an attack by our neighbors' dog.
But he didn't survive to the negligence of a vet, and died very stupidly.

We buried him under an olive tree.

But our day couldn't end on this sad note.

In our mudbrick house, Abdelali was getting ready for his wedding, that very afternoon.

And a half-hour later, we were stuck in the middle of the craziness of a Moroccan wedding of the countryside.

You'll know all about it in a couple of days...

Asleep

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 09:19:00 +0000

Oups... it seems like the blog has fallen asleep.

It's going to wake up.

Very, very soon.

France : The Story of a Small Village

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 09:47:00 +0000

I've been in France for two weeks now - exams to take at the university, why do I do that by the way? - and I have to admit I feel very far from the well, and I haven't really been thinking about my dear blog.

Well, until I took a walk in the village where my parents live.

When I was 6, my parents bought a house in a very small village, in Meuse - a French "département" where there are probably more cows than people. In Verdun, the biggest town, there are barely 20,000 inhabitants. Meuse is famous for being one of the bloodiest battlefield of WWI - and also for the madeleines, that Proust loved so much.

It's common to hear people say that those villages are dying - it's true that there are no more priests in the churches, the cafés are almost all closed, and it's impossible to buy something to eat, you have to drive until the closest supermarket, 10 kilometers from the village.

But I don't know, it's just changing maybe. Because, on the other hand, I haven't seen that many kids in the street(s) (the plural is clearly an overstatement here) for a long time, and that many old houses being renovated.

I had never thought that my village was beautiful but now that I live so far away, I begin to see its beauty - and to understand why so many Dutch people buy houses here, for their vacations.

Here's what you can find in a typical village in Meuse.

A very, very old church.

And very old houses too of course.

A bakery, that's been closed for a least 10 years - and, very sad, the baker who used to work in this one is dying.

Streets with pretentious names - the "château" in question must look more like a farm than like a castle.

And the buses, claiming to be "fast", stop here only 2 twice a day, to bring kids to the high school in the nearest town.

Of course,there are mysterious woods, which have seen many battles.

- you can still see the trenches, and the craters the bombshells have made, almost a century ago. Very impressive.

And, by the old fortified church, a soldier.

(every November 11th, which marks the end of WWI, after church, our teacher would have us recite Hugo's "Hymn to the Dead" and we would get a bag of candy afterwards).

If you're lucky, there will be a school - many have closed -, and if you're even luckier, my school. I realize now that it was a tiny school, with tiny classes, and one teacher teaching everybody.

The saint patron of the village, here Saint Etienne (Saint Stephen in English), who must feel lonely since the priest retired.

That's part of the story of my village.

And that could be the story of dozens of villages in Meuse.

- Or, how what was already very old got older, and how schools, churches and bakeries closed one after the other.
- Or, the story of villages that loved more than everything having kids riding bicycles in their streets.

Living differently: Nadir Khalili's earthbag houses

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 06:08:00 +0000

I love, really love Nader Khalili's earthbag houses. I know that we are broke and that we don't have the time to begin to build anything for now, but just look at this.

Wow.

Nader Khalili was an Iranian-American architect. In the 80s, he worked on lunar habitat - yes - and began building earthbag structures, that he called "Super Adobe". Those structures are today used as emergency shelters, because they resist to earthquakes and bombs.

But some people build those ethical and very simple houses for themselves too.

And the houses are so cool, and apparently easy to build, I would love building one on our little piece of land in Morocco.

You just need bags, earth, and some wire too. This site, and this blog explain how you can do it yourself.

There are also plenty of pictures on the website of the Californa Insitute of Earth Art and Architecture (Calearth), founded by Khalili.
You can even buy, if you too are in love with those little houses, the bags from the website.

So, will there be someday an earthbag house in Ouled Mgatel?
Well, see for yourselves.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

M : Hey look, I just wrote a blogpost on earthbag houses.

F : Oh yeah I know that stuff.

He comes and looks at the computer screen.

F : Wow! They're awesome!

M : Yeah. I love this picture of the inside of a house. (Sigh)

F goes back to his Arabic students. A few minutes later, he enters the room again with some kind of plan he just drew.

F : What do you think, where do I put the kitchen?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Life in Ouled Mgatel: 4 mariages and a convalescent

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 08:36:00 +0000

We waited the end of the heatwave to go back to Ouled Mgatel. There, we found our house very clean (thank you Fouad). We haven't begun the work yet; all the mudbricks are waiting for us in the garden. It's little weird to be there, in our mudbrick home, after all those months of living in the city. The beauty of the place is always a good surprise, but the empty shelves, the mould on our books and the kitchen, that haven't been used in 8 months now - except for the mint tea Bachir and Fouad drink everyday -, all of this makes me a little sad.

We were there on the day after Turia's wedding. Turia is one of Mohammed's daughters. This year, 4 of Mohammed's children get married. That's a little strange, given that it costs a lot of money - for the party (it lasts 2 days) and for the dowries. And it was a little strange, this day after the big party, when the bride is still in her family - and hasn't been in a room alone with her husband . On that night, she was going to her new home. For the first time, she was going to spend the night in a strange house. She was leaving to live forever with her new family - and a husband that, of course, her father chose for her.

But Turia seemed OK. She was dressed like a city girl - a light veil on her hair, pants matching her t-shirt, and heels. In one of the rooms of the house, there was everything she owned - the gifts, and what her father bought for her with the dowry: a bed, "farash" (Moroccan couches), a mirror, glasses and dishes, a blender, and lots, lots of tablecloths and blankets. There was also her luggage, full of clothes I had never seen her wear.

Her four sisters, the one that is already married, the one that is getting married in a month, the one that is getting married in a few years, and the one that will never get married, were inspecting the gifts and packing the luggage. Dunya, who will be married in one month, and who is much younger than Turia, was very chic too. She'll become soon a city girl, since her soon-to-be husband is living in Fès. Huria, the youngest of the 5 sisters, loses 2 sisters at the same time, but she gains two sisters-in-lawn, next month.

Abdelali seemed to be doing perfectly well. Life's smiling at him right now: the politics, a new tractor, and the land. And at the end of Ramadan, he's getting married with a girl from Fez - a striking symbol of his success, since usually the girls that grew up in the city don't marry guys from the country.

And what about our convalescent? It's Bachir, of course. He just had some tests done in Rabat - hmm, quite superficial I'm afraid - but apparently everything's fine. He still can't work, but he's getting better and better.

If somebody knows the name of that tree, which grew up very very fast, and is apparently in love with the earth of Ouled Mgatel - hmm, the same cannot be said of the other trees we planted - , I'm interested. Fred put a few seeds in a small container with some wet cotton, but somehow I doubt it's going to work...

And what is Fred doing ?

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sun, 26 Jul 2009 13:05:00 +0000

Yes, while I'm melting under the hot weather in Fez, what is Fred doing ?

He's been here...

(recording a series of Arab tales for Ramadan)

... and, yes, here:

(answering to the question "What is the sacred ?" - right next to the superstar Sami Yusuf, that, by the way, he met during the Fez festival)

Life in Fez: and being angry, angry, angry.

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 16:23:00 +0000

I wrote this post the other day. And then I forgot about it. It’s very long, I know. I was one very unhappy blogger that day. And that’s one post I won’t post on the French Prés du Puits, because I don’t want my grand-mother to worry about me.

On my way to the supermarket, something happened. Something that happens far too often in Morocco.

I wanted to cross the street, on the only crosswalk A car was coming from my left, so I waited for it to pass me to cross the road. I looked at it, for maybe 2 seconds. And that's it. That’s enough for some men here When they see a girl, especially a European or American girl, looking at them, they think they have a sexual interest in them. Even if you just want to cross the street and that you want to make sure you're not killed in the process.

So as I crossed the street I heard his horn. I didn't care, really, as I said that happens all the time when I'm alone – and even if I hate it, it doesn't make me feel bad about myself. I'm used to it. But then I saw his car stop, and then I knew he was one of that men. I kept on walking on the sidewalk, decided not to look behind me. He didn't seem to follow me, and I was relieved. Then I heard the sound of his old car, he passed me, and parked in the street. I began walking faster, and entered a little street on my right so I wouln't have to see him. He whistled when he saw I wasn't going to meet him.

After that, I saw him again twice, with always the same technique : he waited that I had walked about a hundred meters, and then would come park his car so that he could see me, and, I don't know, hoping that I would come to talk to him ? This is crazy. When I got to the main boulevard, he obviously couln't keep on doing this because of the number of cars and people.

It wasn't scary – in France, it would have been, but in Morocco, it’s just the usual. Every time I go out alone, something happens. There are men who say « Bonjour » with a soft voice when you walk by them. There are those who follow you – like today. Before that, I got really scared a few times. Once, in Meknès, I had to go see a shopkeeper and tell him that somebody was following me, I was so scared. There are those who say dirty words, in French, in English, and probably also in Arabic. It's rare, but that's really mortifying. And then there are those who insult you..

None of that stuff would ever happen in Ouled Mgatel. That's one of the reasons why I love it so much. Of course women have less freedom in the countryside – even I have less freedom there. Our neighbor Mohammed won't let me stay in the house alone at night, which used to drive me crazy. He would take his daughter with thim and bring me to his house because a women alone in a house at night is a shame for her husband.

But people in Ouled Mgatel respect you. Even people we don't know are always kind, and respectul. I remember once that I was telling Fred about one of this verbal assaults when we were eating with Bachir. Fred translated for him. Bachir got very angry and proposed that to go see the man who insulted me, and to beat him (Really. Ouled Emgatel men are known for their fighting skills). He couldn't even imagine such a thing was possible.

Photo Les Baisers de Louise.

I know this is worse for Moroccan women. Because I don’t have to worry about physical abuse – in Morocco, it’s very dangerous to touch foreigners. And I admire so much the girls and women who dress like they want to defy those men. Short skirts, low-cut t-shirts. Wearing that kind of clothes is really brave in Fez - more than in Casablanca, or Rabat, that are more open. I wouldn't do it. In my dresser I have a place for the clothes I only wear in France. Not that I cannot wear them here – you're free to dress like you want in Morocco – but because, in a way, I'm weak. I just don’t want men to notice me.

Yesterday Fred told me that the man in the car behaved that way because some young women sell prostitue themselves for 20 dirhams (20 dirhams !2 euros !). All men have to do is to blow their horn, and if she’s up for it, the girl wait for them in a nearby street.

Now I’m speechless.

Having a drink in Fez: the MAS bar

noreply@blogger.com (Marie) — Sun, 12 Jul 2009 07:07:00 +0000

In Fez, like in most big cities of Morocco, you can find alcohol in most supermarkets, in liquor stores, and in some groceries stores. But having a cold beer in a nice bar is something else. Not so easy at all.

First, bars for tourists are expensive, and the ambiance is not great.

Then, because Morocco is a Muslim country, alcohol is often a taboo subject. Of course it doesn't mean that nobody drinks. Just that, with the exception of certain well-off families, nobody drinks at home, with their families.
So when people spend the night in a bar, it's certainly not to have just one drink or too (actually, I think the bar owner would consider that as an insult.) No, most people drink until they can't, and until their wallet is empty. Not fun - given that, in Fez, there are only men in most bars.

Things are different in Casa or in Rabat, or, I guess, in Marrakesh. But Fez is a very traditional city.

Still, there are some fun places.

The first I want to show you is the MAS bar.

I don't know if you know the MAS. It's the Fez sport club. They're most known for their soccer club.
But they also do other things.
1. They play pétanqu e.
2. They sell beer.

The sports club is financed by the sale of alcohol in the bar. The state allow them to sell detaxed alcohol. It's thus the cheapest bar of Fez. The good thing is that it's not only for club members.

At the MAS bar, you drink a beer (10 dirhams - 1 euro) ou a glass of wine (a bottle of Guerrouane is only 65 dirhams) while watching people play pétanque, in a courtyard, seated under a tree.

There are also the cats that live there, the almonds sellers, the delicious kefta tajins (30 dirhams), and the lamps that look like lanterns in the trees.

I don't know the exact address. It's in the street of the French institute. Coming from la Fiat, go straight, and then it's on your left, in a corner. Enter by the main door (there is another bar in the club and trust me, you don't want to go there).