Fez, one the imperial cities

We roll into Fez with high expectations. This is no ordinary city – it’s the spiritual and intellectual heartbeat of Morocco, the oldest of the four imperial cities, and home to one of the largest and most labyrinthine medinas on earth. Just the thought of losing ourselves in those ancient streets has kept us excited for days.

To make the most of our limited time here – another stage awaits tomorrow – we take the toll road. Smart move. The seventy kilometres to Camping Diamant Vert fly by, leaving us a generous chunk of the afternoon to explore.

We’ve barely stepped through the campsite gate when a man offers us a ride straight to the old city. No need to flag down a taxi after all. As newcomers to Morocco, we almost certainly overpay – 100 dirhams – but we make our peace with it. For nearly half an hour in the car and a drop-off right at the medina gate, it’s hard to complain.

And then, right on cue, the moment we step out of the car, a man materialises from the crowd, volunteering his services as a guide. We’ve seen this before. We thank him, firmly but warmly, and decline. He does his best to convince us that without him, we’ll be hopelessly lost. He might not be entirely wrong.

Into the Souk on Our Own Terms

Our taxi driver had given us solid advice on the way here: walk straight. Don’t turn left. Don’t turn right. “If you do,” he warned with a knowing smile, “you will get lost. Guaranteed.”

So that’s exactly what we do. But first, a few photographs of the magnificent Bab Boujloud, the Blue Gate. Today, the sky is overcast, but we can easily imagine how those countless blue and green tiles must blaze in full sun. Blue on the side that welcomes you into the city; green, the colour of Islam, on the side that bids you farewell.

Then we step into Fes el-Bali, the oldest district in the city. More than nine thousand narrow alleyways fan out before us like a puzzle with no solution. Within the first few metres, we understand exactly what our driver meant. The moment you stray from the main artery, you’re swallowed whole, drawn deeper into a tightening maze of ever-narrower streets and dead ends where time seems to have stopped somewhere around the Middle Ages.

Five Kilometres of Market

This is one of Morocco’s great souks,  a continuous corridor of stalls and eateries stretching more than five kilometres. Butchers hang fresh meat on hooks beside the path. The warm, yeasty smell of bread drifts out from bakeries as you pass. Fruit sellers, vegetable vendors, cobblers, leather goods – if you can think of it, someone here is selling it.

Like so many Moroccan cities, the souk operates on a kind of beautifully organised chaos. One moment you’re admiring a rack of hand-stitched slippers; the next you’re leaping sideways as a donkey cart pushes through the crowd, its driver hollering “Attention!” or “Excusez-moi!” to clear a path. The animals are still the backbone of the supply chain here, and yes, you can smell it. It adds one more layer to the already extraordinary cocktail of scents.

More than two million tourists pass through the old city of Fez each year. It feels entirely possible that a significant portion of them are here today, shuffling alongside us. Any plan to stride through at a decent pace should be abandoned immediately. You shuffle. You pause. You get carried along by the current. It’s slow, and it’s absolutely mesmerising.

A City Centre Without Cars

The medina of Fez is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, but it holds another distinction that makes it truly unique: it’s the largest car-free urban zone on the planet. No motorbikes threading through the crowd, no exhaust fumes, no horns. Just people, donkeys, and the hum of a city that has functioned this way for over a thousand years. (A fun footnote: sources suggest Fez has more than 500 traditional restaurants.) We believe it.

Tucked into the heart of all this organised mayhem is an unexpected pocket of total silence: the Al-Qarawiyyin Mosque and university. Non-Muslims can’t enter the prayer hall, but through the open gates, we catch glimpses of breathtaking architecture. Founded in 859 by Fatima al-Fihri, this institution is officially recognised as the oldest continuously operating university in the world.

Fez has been a centre of scholarship and spirituality for more than twelve centuries – and it shows. Scattered throughout the city are the madrasas, the ancient Quranic schools, that embody this legacy. The Medersa Bou Inania is perhaps the finest example: its carved woodwork and stucco are so impossibly intricate they look more like lacework than architecture. Standing before it, you try to imagine the patience required. You can’t.

The Tanneries: Ancient Craft

We’d planned to visit the Chouara Tannery, one of the most iconic and photogenic spots in Fez. After five-plus kilometres on foot through the warm souk, we make a pragmatic decision: we’re saving it for next time.

But we know what we’re missing. The vast stone vats, dyed in rich ochres and browns, where men stand knee-deep in pigment and lime, softening hides with their feet. It’s a craft that hasn’t changed in a thousand years — and apparently, neither has the smell. Those who’ve been there say the rawhide-and-tanning-fluid aroma stays with you long after you’ve left the city. We’ll find out for ourselves. Eventually.

Left for Next Time

The tanneries aren’t the only things on our unfinished list. Place Seffarine will have to wait too. By day, the square rings with the rhythmic hammering of coppersmiths – craftsmen shaping enormous wedding cauldrons, delicate teapots, and everything in between. In the nearby shaded workshops, others lay mosaic tiles by hand, clipping each tiny piece to the exact right shape. It’s a level of slow, meticulous craftsmanship that feels almost revolutionary in 2026.

Late afternoon. We’re ready to head back to the campsite and let the day settle. We’d had a brief introduction to the petit taxi system back in Meknes, but we still hadn’t quite cracked the code. We decide to learn by doing: walk to the edge of the medina, stick out a hand, and see what happens.

A SIM card and a Weather Warning

Somewhere along the way back to the campsite, we remember we need to top up our Moroccan SIM. Could he help? Without a word of complaint, he swerves smoothly through the traffic to a small shop, talks to the owner on our behalf and has us back in the car with a loaded card in about three minutes. “Where are you going tomorrow?” he asks as he drops us at the campsite. “Ifrane,” we tell him. He raises his eyebrows. “It’s cold up there. Snow. You can even ski.”

Back at the campsite reception, we sink into the big sofas and upload the day’s photos over the fast Wi-Fi. Our feet ache. The souk covered more ground than we’d anticipated. But one thing is certain: Fez will be back on the itinerary. There’s too much left to discover