All Alone in Fes

Yes, we are.  And, we’re pretty content at the moment relaxing in our plain little room with AC and gold velveteen curtains.  Getting here was not so bad, as Baumgaertel-time got us to the correct terminal three hours prior to departure and we remembered the luggage drop procedure from before.

Our travel day began with a shuttle ride and check-in to Ryanair, a bottle of water to share while we waited, and a chat with a Rome—based tour guide who was reading a book about the history of Greece.  Somehow, we had purchased “priority boarding” seats (for not very many monies because it’s pretty cheap to fly around these parts) meaning we got to go through that special line ahead of the masses and enter the plane through the front door.  Dudes on the tarmac didn’t want us to enter the front door though, so we commiserated with a young woman from Singapore, who commented that life is more orderly where she lives, and entered the rear door along with everyone else.

Out away from the city, Fes airport is small and modern.  Jim bought a chocolate bar to break a 200 dirham bill for the taxi, and then a little bit of fun began.  First, the airport:

One of our travel guide books suggested a taxi ride to Ville Nouvelle would cost approximately 120-150 dirhams, and to make sure the driver had a meter.  Heh.  Ours didn’t, but he did have AC where the meter would have been; also, he didn’t speak English (which is not surprising) but he did speak French (no help there) and understood “Menzeh Zalagh hotel”, so we were off.  As we exited the airport area, I thought (very briefly) that traffic was not so bad and maybe renting a car some day in the distant future would be okay, but right then I spied an accident in the roundabout and thought better of that.  Speaking of roundabouts, imagine what the Burnham drive ones would be like if entering vehicles had the right of way like they do here.

Twenty minutes and 150 dirhams later, we arrived at Menzeh Zalagh only to be told, in English, that we had no reservation.  Instead, said the lady after I showed her the Expedia receipt for our already-paid-lots-of-money-for room, we had a reservation at the “other” Menzeh down the street.  It is the same, said she, only we had to go down there to check in.  “We are same hotel; did you come in a taxi?” Well, yes, but why that matters we did not know.  Off we went, trailing behind this sweet porter guy who seemed sympathetic to our plight, to the “other” Menzeh, whereupon we discovered that here, also, we had no reservation.  Alas, this time the reservation clerk guy read my Expedia receipt very carefully (he did a good job considering he also spoke no English) and called the first place back to tell them we indeed had a room there at that Menzeh, not here at this one.  Back with the porter again, and the story finally ended — happily with us in a room and all is well.  I’m sure we’ll never know what really happened between the hotel and Expedia, but here we are for the next 25 nights.  Old hotel, worn yet clean, twin beds pushed together, little fridge, AC, no chairs, no drawers.

Ventured out a couple of hours ago to buy bottled water at a hanout (han -oot or ha – NOOT) down the block and this for snacking – and will eat dinner at the restaurant downstairs.

Tomorrow we’ll locate ALIF and explore the neighborhood.  Class begins on Thursday.