Morocco’s Fes Medina Old World Seen Through New Eyes

In my last column I wrote about wanting to travel more slowly. The impetus was a foolhardy attempt to spend one week in Nigeria, where my siblings I haven’t seen in 12 years reside. What was I thinking? My longer-term concerns were primarily physical and ethical.

When we rush from destination to destination, I wondered, can our bodies even process the experience? On an existential level, have we left our souls behind? And if that’s the case, can we avoid falling into extraction mode, hungrily consuming a community’s resources just for the ‘gram? As a meditation practitioner, why wasn’t I practicing mindfulness in my travels?

What amazing serendipity, then, to arrive to Fes, Morocco two weeks ago to discover that my new housemate, Berlin-based musician and transdisciplinary artist Nono Gigsta, advocates and practices slow travel.

Not surprisingly, I arrived before her, and as the organizers of Nawat Fes, the artist residency program of the American Language Center Fes/Arabic Language Institute in Fez, showed me to the traditional house that would be our home and workspace for the next eight weeks, they explained that my co-resident artist didn’t fly and would be traveling from Europe by land and sea. Interesting.

Hours later, Nono and I lounged amidst the decorative 19th-century tilework and ornate wood carving characteristic of dars (traditional multi-storied houses built around interior courtyards), discussing travel. She described the carbon footprint of the global dance music scene, with in-demand DJs “fast gigging” from one city to another in a single weekend. It sounded glamorous, playing Ibiza one night, Paris the next, flying from Rio to Goa to Tulum. Travel writers are similar, wearing our fast travel like badges of honor.

Concerned about sustainability, she made the decision to go flight-free and embrace the practice of “slow gigging”. What a risky career move, I thought. What a privilege, she countered.

In the morning, we ventured out to a rooftop café. Our residency is nestled in the Fes medina, a walled historic district founded in the 9th century that’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of Morocco’s oldest and best preserved. With nearly 9,500 paved footpaths and 300 mosques, it’s rumored to be one of the world’s largest living medieval and car-free cities. Over sweet fresh-squeezed orange juice bright as the sun, Nono described her five-day journey (the full account is available in her newsletter).

She spent Day 1 deep in a novel, as Berlin to southern France can be done “in a day and just two trains,” and slept off the 15-hour journey in the port city of Marseille. Gibraltar, the British Overseas Territory located at the bottom of Spain, just a three-hour sail to Morocco, was now 1600 km (100 miles) away. Train, the most environmentally sustainable option, was also the most expensive and would take nearly 22 hours, about the same as the bus, but without the three transfers. So on Day 2 she boarded a 44-hour ferry to Tangier.

Like a true (and last-minute) adventurer, she hadn’t booked a cabin; all she had was one of those molded deck seats. I personally would consider this the definition of a journey to hell (especially now that gangs of Orcas are roaming the Strait of Gibraltar, sinking boats).

Instead, Nono beamed, describing how the other passengers — primarily Moroccan men — built her a nest out of blankets and “constantly offered food and checked in on me.”

A younger, more intrepid version of myself understood. Sure, sailing is ecologically responsible, but it was her slow travel — immersed, mindful, engaged in ordinary life — that invited travel’s greatest gifts: Unexpected kindnesses, interpersonal connections, personal transformation.

On Day 4 they reached Morocco, where she reluctantly disembarked, reflecting that “Even slow travels and long books can feel too short.” The final day of her journey she made a pilgrimage to Borj en-Nâam, Tangier’s new museum dedicated to the famous 14th-century Moroccan traveler commonly known as Ibn Battuta, who spent almost 30 years journeying through Africa, Southern Asia and the Middle East. In comparison, the four-and-a-half hour train to Fes felt like a rocket ship.

As the sounds of singing floated up from the medina streets, Nono’s story felt like a gift, especially as I’m writing about Abu Abdullah Muhammad ibn Battutah. But to my surprise, she thanked me. She’d carried my memoir about ordaining as Thailand’s first Black Buddhist nun on the voyage, calling it “an incredibly generous account of deep travel.” I pondered.

Though I’d crossed the globe to reach Thailand, once in the temple, my movements were intentionally slow, my world constrained to a narrow gorge in the shadow of a mountain. Perhaps she meant the deep internal journey as I rooted in community, self and place.

After breakfast, we set out through the maze of cobbled streets. We’d been told to spend our first two days simply learning the way home. The residency team guided us through labyrinthine alleyways, pointing out landmarks and subtle signs, like the hexagonal street signs indicating a dead-end and the slight incline underfoot indicating a medina exit.

Like ducklings, we trailed our guides past tiled public fountains and shops displaying breads of all shapes and sizes, mounds of colorful spices and neat rows of goat heads. We lingered beside kiosks serving mint tea and fresh-squeezed juices, and stalls selling fresh-pressed argan oil and leather slippers stained bright in the city’s infamous tanneries.

Every corner blurred with street cats and children at play. Every doorway beckoned — Atlas-sized wooden doors leading to hammams, the public baths the Islamic world adapted from Roman thermae, Hobbit-sized doors opening into the interior gardens of mansions. Every time I got distracted, I got lost. Every morning I leap out of bed, grateful for this opportunity to adventure by slowing down and going deep.

Faith Adiele founded the nation’s first writing workshop for travelers of color through VONA. Her award-winning memoir Meeting Faith routinely makes travel listicles, and her travel media credits include A World of Calm (Max), Sleep Stories (CALM app) and My Journey Home (PBS). A member of the Black Travel Alliance, she publishes in Here magazine, Off Assignment, Best Women’s Travel Writing, Oprah magazine, ESSENCE and others. Find her in Oakland, Finland, Nigeria or @meetingfaith.

This story was originally published June 12, 2023 at 4:08 PM.