Morocco is a North African kingdom of extraordinary contrasts — where imperial cities hum with centuries of history, rose-pink kasbahs rise from sun-baked plains, and the Sahara's vast silence meets the restless energy of the Atlantic coast, all within a single, spellbinding 14-day journey.
Morocco: – Fes
🌅 A Slow Start, Which Was Entirely Appropriate
The morning began without urgency, which, after several days of being herded around like a confused sheep at an international airport, was almost physically pleasurable.
A slow breakfast in the riad’s tiled courtyard felt less like a meal and more like a small act of civilisation. There were soft Moroccan breads — khobz, which is round and slightly dense and made in communal neighbourhood ovens that have been doing the job since approximately the ninth century — and apricot jam, and olives so good they deserved their own diplomatic status, possibly a seat at the United Nations. The coffee was strong enough to restart a diesel engine, which at that point in the trip was exactly what was required.
Shafts of morning light came through the courtyard lattice in the particular way that only happens in places that have had centuries to get the architecture exactly right. The Moroccans have been building riads — inward-facing courtyard houses — since at least the medieval period. The design is practical in a way that the British house emphatically is not: the high walls keep out the heat, the central courtyard circulates air, and the whole arrangement produces a kind of ambient calm that a double-glazed semi-detached in Swindon will never, in all honesty, achieve. One sat, ate, drank an alarming amount of coffee, and felt temporarily competent.
Lassen was waiting in the lobby when we came down. Our guide for the day. He was dressed in a crisp white djellaba — the traditional full-length robe that men across North Africa have been wearing in various forms since the medieval period, and which makes most Western clothing look slightly embarrassed by comparison — with a leather satchel slung over one shoulder. He looked considerably more composed than anyone has a right to at that hour, which I found faintly irritating in the way that one always finds composed people faintly irritating before one’s second coffee.
He had the easy professionalism of a man who has explained the same extraordinary things to bewildered foreigners for years and somehow still means every word of it. That is a rarer quality than it sounds. Azdine, our driver, was parked around the corner in his habitual, unflappable manner, the engine already running, offering the kind of quiet nod and small smile that says everything is under control without making a production of it. We climbed in and headed into the heart of Fes.
🕍 The Mellah — Fes’s Jewish Quarter
From the palace, we walked a short distance to the Mellah, the historic Jewish quarter of Fes. It deserves a somewhat longer explanation than it usually gets, because the history behind it is both more complex and more interesting than most visitors realise.
The Jewish presence in Morocco is old. Genuinely old. There is credible historical evidence of Jewish communities in North Africa dating back to at least the second century CE, possibly earlier, connected to ancient trade routes along the Mediterranean littoral. By the medieval period, Jewish communities were well established in Fes and other Moroccan cities, operating as merchants, physicians, scholars, diplomats, and financiers. They occupied a recognised, if legally distinct, position within the broader social order.
What transformed the Moroccan Jewish community permanently was the events of 1492 — a year that was catastrophic for a very large number of people for more than one reason. In January, the Spanish monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella completed the Reconquista by capturing Granada, the last Muslim kingdom on the Iberian Peninsula. In March, they issued the Alhambra Decree, ordering the expulsion of all Jews from Spain. The number of people displaced is disputed by historians — estimates range from eighty thousand to three hundred thousand — but the scale was enormous, and the disruption to communities that had been rooted in Iberia for over a millennium was total.
Many of the expelled Sephardic Jews — “Sephardi” coming from the Hebrew word for Spain — made their way across the Strait of Gibraltar to Morocco, where successive sultans offered them a degree of protection. The arrangement was not purely charitable. Jewish merchants, physicians, and diplomats brought skills, commercial networks, and capital that were genuinely useful to the Moroccan state. Several Jewish families served as court intermediaries — tujjar al-sultan, or merchants of the sultan — operating between the Moroccan monarchy and European trading partners for generations.
They were not equals in any modern sense. They paid a special poll tax, the jizya. They lived in designated areas. They operated under a distinct legal status as dhimmis — protected non-Muslim subjects — which carried both protections and substantial restrictions. But within those constraints, many Moroccan Jewish families flourished. The community produced rabbinical scholars, poets, physicians, and merchants of considerable standing. Fes became one of the most significant centres of Sephardic Jewish life in the world.
The Mellah itself — the word likely derives from the Arabic for salt, though there are competing etymological theories — was established adjacent to the Royal Palace. The proximity was deliberate. The sultan’s garrison could protect the Jewish quarter more efficiently if it was nearby, and the arrangement also gave the palace a degree of commercial oversight over a financially important community.
The architecture of the Mellah is immediately and obviously different from the surrounding Muslim quarters. The streets are wider and more rectilinear. The houses have wrought-iron balconies and windows that face outward onto the street — a striking departure from the standard Moroccan house design, in which privacy is structurally enforced and everything faces inward onto a courtyard. The outward-facing design may reflect Iberian architectural influence brought across by the Sephardic immigrants.
The community that animated these streets has largely gone. The establishment of the State of Israel, followed by a series of Arab-Israeli conflicts and the associated deterioration of the position of Jewish minorities across the Arab world, prompted emigration on a large scale. Moroccan Jews left for Israel, for France, and for Casablanca. Morocco’s total Jewish population, once estimated at around two hundred and fifty thousand in the mid-twentieth century, had fallen to a few thousand by recent decades.
But the physical evidence persists: doorways with Hebrew inscriptions still legible in the stonework, synagogues converted into small museums, and a cemetery that is better maintained than you might expect given how few people remain to tend it. There is something quietly poignant about walking streets that still carry the architectural memory of a community that is no longer there to inhabit them.
🏔️ The Merenid Tombs and the View Over the Medina
We rejoined Azdine and drove up a winding road to a vantage point beside the Merenid Tombs — a partially ruined necropolis perched on the ridge of hills directly above the city.
The Marinids were a Berber dynasty that ruled Morocco from the mid-thirteenth century through the mid-fifteenth century and were, by most historical assessments, serious patrons of art and architecture. Much of what makes Fes architecturally magnificent — several of the great madrasas, the expansion of the al-Qarawiyyin complex, significant sections of the city walls — dates from the Marinid period. Their tombs, however, have not fared especially well in the intervening centuries. The structures are largely ruined, the carved stone eroded, the roofs long since fallen in. Posterity has not been kind.
None of which matters especially, because the view from up here is worth every hairpin bend of the road.
The entire Medina of Fes el-Bali spreads out below in a way that is very difficult to process. It is dense. Rooftop to rooftop, wall to wall, filling the valley between the surrounding hills with a continuous mass of medieval urban fabric. Minarets rise at intervals, satellite dishes sprout from terraces with cheerful anachronism, and the ancient city walls still curl around the whole thing much as they did when they were first raised — in some sections as far back as the ninth century, substantially reinforced and extended by later dynasties. The scale of it is disorienting. You know, in an abstract intellectual way, that medieval cities were large and dense and complicated. You don’t quite believe it until you are standing above one that is still entirely, visibly, lived in by hundreds of thousands of people going about their actual lives.
I stood there for quite a long time. This is not something I say often about anything.
🏺 The Ceramics Workshop
We descended to a ceramics factory on the edge of the city, which I suspect was on Lassen’s itinerary partly for our genuine edification and partly because it provides an organised pause in the day with a showroom attached.
The craft itself was genuinely fascinating. There were potters at their wheels — the wheel is a technology so old that its origins are lost somewhere in the Neolithic period and nobody has felt the need to significantly improve it since. There were tile-cutters chipping individual pieces of zellij to precisely the right shape with small hammers and chisels, a process that requires extraordinary accuracy because a single miscut piece can throw off an entire geometric pattern. There were painters applying cobalt and manganese glazes to pottery by hand, following traditional patterns passed down through Fes workshops for centuries. The blue-and-white pottery of Fes is distinct enough to have its own name in the trade — Fassi blue — and it has been exported since the medieval period.
The showroom was, as expected, packed with beautiful and entirely impractical objects: enormous tiled fountains of the sort that would look magnificent in a courtyard one did not possess, decorative dishes of a diameter suggesting they were intended for the feeding of small armies, zellij tables that were undeniably lovely and weighed approximately as much as a small car. A seven-kilogram tagine caught my eye. When we explained — with genuine, if slightly apologetic, honesty — that we had no fixed address and no realistic means of transporting ceramic objects across multiple continents, the salesman’s warmth cooled with impressive efficiency. We left with our curiosity intact and our luggage situation blessedly unchanged.
🌀 Inside Fes el-Bali — The Medina
Azdine dropped us at one of the main gates of the Medina and we went in on foot for what turned out to be three hours of exploration through what is, without any serious competition, one of the most extraordinary urban environments on earth.
Fes el-Bali — Old Fes, as distinct from the newer districts built during the French protectorate period — is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the largest car-free urban areas in the world. It is not car-free by policy or environmentally conscious municipal decision. It is car-free because the streets are physically incapable of accommodating a vehicle. Most are too narrow. Some can barely accommodate two people walking in opposite directions without a degree of negotiation.
The city was founded in the ninth century — the traditional date given is 789 CE, under Idris I, the founder of the first Moroccan dynasty, though the city developed significantly under his son Idris II from around 808 CE onwards. The Medina contains, by one frequently cited count, over nine thousand individual alleys, lanes, covered passageways, dead ends, and corridors. The layout is not, as it might initially appear, the result of eight hundred years of random organic chaos. Islamic urban planning operated on a set of deliberate principles that prioritised shade over visibility, privacy over access, and human-scale movement over the kind of rational geometric grid that makes military planners happy and everybody else hopelessly lost. It is organised. It is merely organised according to principles that are not immediately obvious to someone raised on the British grid system.
It also, it must be said, is completely impossible to navigate without someone who knows where they are going.
Lassen knew where he was going.
We followed him through covered souks heavy with the mingled smell of herbs, freshly baked bread, and aged copper. Past hidden shrines tucked into niches in thick stone walls, with small oil lamps burning in front of them. Past a boy, perhaps ten years old, balancing a brass tray loaded with tea glasses on one hand while moving through a crowd that seemed entirely unconcerned by his presence, as though this were the most normal thing in the world, which for him it presumably was.
The architecture shifts and layers as you move. High walls plunge alleyways into cool shadow that smells of old stone. Carved wooden balconies overhang narrow walkways. Enormous carved cedar doors open — occasionally — onto riad courtyards of startling tranquillity that you would never guess existed from outside. Zellij tilework covers the lower walls of public fountains and significant buildings in geometric patterns that reward sustained attention. Quranic calligraphy winds around archways and lintels. Everything is old. Much of it is genuinely shabby. All of it is alive.
🔨 The Trades of the Medina
The trades of the Medina are still, after all these centuries, geographically organised by guild and craft — an arrangement inherited directly from the medieval economic system and maintained, with remarkable fidelity, right up to the present day.
The brass workers occupy their own quarter. You hear them before you see them — a constant bright clanging of small hammers on metal that echoes down the lanes and bounces off stone walls. The sound has been part of Fes’s sonic landscape since the medieval period, when Moroccan brasswork was exported across the Islamic world and into Europe. Some of the craftsmen were using tools that looked as though they had been in the family for several generations. This seemed entirely plausible.
The dyers’ district is visible from fifty metres away and makes the brass workers seem positively subtle. Skeins of freshly dyed wool hang from balconies and poles in saffron yellow, deep indigo, crimson, burnt orange, and the particular bright green that appears throughout Moroccan decorative tradition. The wool drips gently as it dries, which means the street below has an abstract expressionist quality that is either atmospheric or a hazard depending on where you are standing. Natural dyes — henna, saffron, indigo, pomegranate — have been used in Moroccan textile production since the medieval period.
Further along were the leather workers, the spice merchants arranged behind mountains of powders and roots — cumin, turmeric, ras el hanout, dried rose petals — the woodworkers, and the bookbinders hand-stitching covers in the traditional Moroccan style. We passed tailors bent over sewing machines that looked approximately as old as the Ottoman Empire. We passed children learning to tool decorative patterns into leather by hand. We passed elderly craftsmen sitting cross-legged in workshops so small that the twentieth century had barely managed to get inside, let alone make itself comfortable.
📚 The Madrasa
We visited one of the great madrasas of the Medina — a theological school of the kind that educated Moroccan scholars, jurists, and religious leaders for centuries. Morocco’s madrasas were founded largely during the Marinid period as part of a deliberate programme of religious and intellectual investment. They served simultaneously as dormitories for students, as adjuncts to mosque libraries, and as architectural statements of dynastic prestige.
The interior was, by any objective measure, one of the most beautiful I have encountered.
The carved cedar latticework covering the upper sections of the courtyard walls was of a complexity that made one feel faintly apologetic for the limitations of one’s own attention span. There is a specific kind of pattern — interlocking geometric stars generated from a single repeated unit, expanding and subdividing across an entire wall — that Islamic geometric art developed to a level of mathematical sophistication not formally described in Western mathematics until the twentieth century. Looking at it, one has the slightly uncomfortable realisation that the people who designed it were, in several measurable ways, considerably cleverer than oneself.
The central courtyard was floored in zellij and overlooked by students’ cells on the upper storey — small, austere rooms where young men from across the Islamic world came to study jurisprudence, Quranic recitation, rhetoric, and grammar. The atmosphere was one of scholarly calm, which persisted even with a stream of tourists shuffling through it, which says something about the quality of the architecture.
A short walk brought us to a funduq — the medieval equivalent of a commercial caravanserai. Funduqs were purpose-built facilities for travelling merchants along the long-distance trade routes that ran through Fes from sub-Saharan Africa, across North Africa, and into the Mediterranean world. The ground floor provided storage and stabling; traders slept above. Fes was one of the great commercial entrepôts of the medieval Islamic world, positioned at the intersection of trans-Saharan gold and salt routes with east-west Mediterranean trade. The architecture of the funduq was robust and utilitarian in a way that contrasted sharply with the madrasa’s delicacy — a reminder that the Medina served commerce and learning in roughly equal measure.
🕌 Moulay Idriss II and al-Qarawiyyin University
We paused near the mausoleum of Moulay Idriss II, the founder of Fes and one of Morocco’s most venerated religious figures. Idris II ruled in the early ninth century, oversaw the significant expansion of the city his father had established, and is considered the effective founder of Fes in its recognisable form. His mausoleum remains a significant place of pilgrimage. Non-Muslims cannot enter, and we didn’t try. The area around it was quiet and unhurried, with pilgrims making their way in and out, some sitting in contemplative silence in the recessed wooden benches that line the approach.
A short walk from there brought us to the al-Qarawiyyin mosque and university complex, which requires a moment of pause, because what it represents is genuinely remarkable.
Al-Qarawiyyin was founded in 859 CE. It was founded by a woman. Her name was Fatima al-Fihri, the daughter of a wealthy merchant from Kairouan, and she used her inheritance to fund the construction of a mosque and an associated institution of learning. The University of al-Qarawiyyin is generally recognised as the oldest continuously operating degree-granting university in the world. It predates the University of Bologna, traditionally cited as the oldest European university, by more than two centuries. It predates Oxford by approximately three hundred years.
Fatima al-Fihri’s name is not nearly as well known as it ought to be, given this. One suspects that had she been a man, and had she founded her institution in a city that subsequently became part of Europe, the situation would be rather different. But there it is.
At its medieval peak, al-Qarawiyyin attracted scholars from across the Islamic world and beyond. It remains an active centre of Islamic religious education. The portions visible to visitors suggest it has not spent its eleven centuries in any state of architectural decline.
🐄 The Chouara Tannery
The final stop was the Chouara Tannery, which has been in continuous operation since at least the eleventh century and is, on several simultaneous levels, an assault on the senses.
You approach it through a series of leather goods shops — the owners generously provide access to the terraces overlooking the tannery in exchange for the socially reasonable expectation that you will feel obligated to look at their merchandise on the way back out. This is fair. They hand you a small sprig of fresh mint at the entrance, which is a charming tradition and, in warm weather, largely a morale gesture rather than a genuinely effective olfactory intervention. We were there in spring, which meant the smell was merely memorable rather than geologically significant. Several of our fellow visitors had the mint pressed so firmly against their nostrils that they appeared to be undergoing some form of inhalation therapy.
The view from the terrace is extraordinary in a way that photographs do not fully capture, partly because photographs cannot convey smell, and the smell is, in its own way, historically informative.
Dozens of circular stone vats are set into the courtyard below. Some are filled with the chalky white of lime solution. Others contain natural dyes of extraordinary colour: deep red from poppy flowers, yellow from saffron, blue from indigo, and various shades of brown and green from pomegranate, mint, and cedar. Workers move between the vats barefoot, submerging animal hides, turning them with wooden paddles, working skins by hand up to their elbows in dye.
The process begins with soaking the raw hides in a solution of water, salt, and quicklime — the lime loosens the hair and fat from the skin. From there, the hides move into vats containing, among other things, pigeon excrement, which is rich in ammonia and serves as a softening agent. This is why, historically, tanneries occupied the downwind edges of medieval cities. The smell is the reason. The smell is, technically speaking, the process.
This has been happening in Fes, in this specific location, in essentially this manner, since the eleventh century. The techniques are not a museum recreation. They are the actual process by which actual people earn their actual living. Watching it, one feels the particular and slightly uncomfortable sensation of witnessing something genuinely ancient still functioning — not as a demonstration or an exhibit, but as the current and present reality of several dozen people’s working lives.
The calls to prayer drifted across the rooftops as we left the Medina, which provided a better ending to the morning than we could have arranged ourselves.
💭 Reflections
Fes is not the kind of place that reveals itself in a day. A day is enough to understand that you have barely touched it, which is itself a useful thing to understand.
The Medina is not a heritage attraction with people living in it for atmosphere. It is a functioning medieval city. The trades are real trades. The scholars are real scholars. The pilgrims are genuinely there to pray. The leather workers are working because it is their job, not because they are performing a role for tourists, though they are observed by tourists constantly, which they appear to accept with equanimity.
What stayed with me, more than any single building or object, was the sense of continuity. The University of al-Qarawiyyin has been operating for over eleven centuries. The tannery has been working for at least a thousand years. The guild system of the souks is a direct inheritance from the medieval economic organisation of the city. Most places in the world have to work quite hard to connect you to history. Fes does it by simply continuing to exist in the form it has had for centuries, with the present layered over the past rather than replacing it.
The afternoon was spent back at the riad, horizontal and largely non-functional. This seemed like the appropriate response.
In the evening we returned to the Culture Box for dinner, which by this point had become something of a ritual. After a day of nine centuries and nine thousand alleys, a familiar table and a reliable menu are, it turns out, worth quite a lot.
Planning your visit to Fes
🕌 Fes, Morocco — A Visitor’s Guide
Fes (also spelled Fez) is one of Morocco’s four imperial cities and is widely regarded as the country’s cultural and spiritual heart. Founded in the late 8th century, it is home to the world’s largest surviving medieval city and one of the oldest continuously operating universities on earth. It is a place where the call to prayer echoes over a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, where leather tanneries operate as they have for centuries, and where the scent of spice mingles with the smoke of hammam steam. For any visitor to Morocco, Fes is an essential stop.
📍 Location
Fes sits in the interior of northern Morocco, approximately 300 kilometres from the northern coast, in a broad valley watered by the Oued Fes (the River of Fez). The city divides naturally into three distinct districts. Fes el-Bali (Old Fes) is the ancient walled medina, a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1981 and the oldest part of the city, dating to the Idrisid dynasty of the 8th and 9th centuries. Its approximately 9,000 alleyways are so narrow that cars are entirely absent, making it the world’s largest car-free urban zone. Fes el-Jdid (New Fes) was founded by the Marinid dynasty in the 13th century and houses the Royal Palace and the old Jewish quarter, known as the Mellah. The Ville Nouvelle (New City) lies to the southwest and was built during the French colonial period; it is the modern, commercial face of the city, with wide boulevards, hotels, restaurants, and the main railway station.
🚗 Getting There by Car
Fes is well connected to the rest of Morocco by road. The city is reached via the A2 motorway, which links it to Rabat and Casablanca to the west. From Casablanca the drive is around three to four hours; from Tangier in the north it is approximately four and a half hours; from Marrakech, allow around six hours. The motorways between major Moroccan cities are generally of good quality, though tolls apply and must be paid in Moroccan dirhams. Petrol stations are plentiful along major routes.
Visitors arriving from Europe overland typically cross the Strait of Gibraltar by ferry from southern Spain into Tangier or Tanger Med, then continue south by road. Several ferry companies operate this crossing year-round, with frequent daily sailings. It is important to ensure that your vehicle has all the necessary documentation for crossing international borders, and you should verify with your motor insurer that your policy covers Morocco before departure.
✈️ Getting There by Air
Fes has its own airport, Fès-Saïss Airport, situated around 15 kilometres south of the city centre. It receives flights from a number of European cities as well as domestic connections from Casablanca and Marrakech. Alternatively, many visitors fly into Casablanca’s Mohammed V International Airport, which has far more international connections, and continue to Fes by train or road. From the airport into Fes, taxis are available directly outside the terminal, or a local bus runs to the city’s main train station.
🚂 Getting There by Train
Morocco’s rail network, operated by ONCF, is one of the best in Africa and offers a comfortable and reliable way to reach Fes. The main station, Gare de Fes, is located in the Ville Nouvelle. Direct services run from Casablanca (around four hours), Rabat (around three hours), and Tangier (around five to six hours). There are also connections from Marrakech, though these involve a change. Trains tend to be air-conditioned and reasonably priced, making this one of the most pleasant ways to travel between Moroccan cities. First-class carriages are available and worth considering for longer journeys.
🚌 Getting There by Bus
Long-distance buses are a budget-friendly option and serve Fes from virtually every major Moroccan city. CTM is the premium intercity operator and offers air-conditioned coaches with set departure times and advance booking. Supratours is another well-regarded option. Both operators serve routes from Casablanca, Rabat, Tangier, Marrakech, and Chefchaouen, among others. Buses arrive at the main bus station on the edge of the medina, which is a short taxi ride or walk from Bab Bou Jeloud.
🚶 Getting Around Fes
Once in Fes, a car becomes largely redundant for exploring the medina. Fes el-Bali is entirely car-free, and its thousands of alleyways are simply impassable by vehicle. If you are arriving by car and staying in a riad within the medina — which is highly recommended — you will need to park outside the old city walls. There is a car park near Bab Bou Jeloud (the Blue Gate), the principal entrance to the medina, a short walk from the heart of Fes el-Bali. If unsure, your riad can direct you to the nearest accessible gate and parking area.
For getting between the Ville Nouvelle and the medina, or for other journeys across the city, Fes has two types of taxi. Petit taxis are small, red, metered vehicles that operate within city limits and carry up to three passengers. They are inexpensive and plentiful, though it is essential to insist the driver uses the meter. Grand taxis are larger shared vehicles that carry up to six passengers and operate along fixed routes, often between the city and surrounding towns. They are useful for day trips to nearby Meknes, for example. Always agree on the fare before setting off, particularly late at night when surcharges apply.
Inside Fes el-Bali itself, walking is the only means of travel. The medina is extraordinarily complex, and even seasoned travellers find themselves turned around amid the winding alleyways. Colour-coded signposts throughout the medina point visitors towards major landmarks and areas of interest, though these can sometimes be obscured by shopfront goods. A good offline map on a smartphone is highly useful. Many visitors find that hiring an official, licensed guide for at least the first day makes a significant difference — they can be arranged through your riad or the local tourist office. Unlicensed guides are best politely declined, as they tend to lead visitors to specific shops on a commission basis.
⚠️ Things to Be Aware Of
Culture and religion
Morocco is a predominantly Muslim country, and Fes in particular is considered one of the most religiously conservative cities in the country despite its thriving tourist industry. Visitors are warmly welcomed, but cultural sensitivity is essential throughout the stay.
Dress modestly, especially in the medina. Both men and women should cover their shoulders and knees. Women may feel more comfortable in loose-fitting clothing that covers the arms and legs, particularly when venturing into residential streets or near mosques. Revealing attire attracts unwanted attention and is considered disrespectful.
The vast majority of mosques in Morocco are closed to non-Muslim visitors. Do not attempt to enter a mosque unless it is explicitly open to tourists. The Al-Qarawiyyin Mosque in Fes is one of the most important in the Islamic world and is not open to non-Muslims.
Always ask for permission before taking photographs of local people, especially women and those in traditional dress. Some people will refuse, and that refusal must be respected without argument.
When visiting hammams or traditional bathhouses, ask your riad for guidance on local etiquette. Single-sex facilities are the norm, and there is a particular protocol around use of the space.
Ramadan is observed with great seriousness in Fes. During this period, eating, drinking, or smoking in public during daylight hours is deeply disrespectful. Many restaurants close or operate reduced hours during the day, and the atmosphere of the city changes considerably. If your visit coincides with Ramadan, adapt your behaviour accordingly.
Alcohol
Alcohol is legal in Morocco but is not consumed openly by the majority of the local population, for whom Islam forbids it. It is available in licensed hotels, bars, and certain restaurants — primarily those catering to tourists — but drinking in public spaces such as streets, parks, and the medina is illegal and can result in a fine or arrest. You will not generally find alcohol available within the medina itself; licensed bars and restaurants are concentrated in the Ville Nouvelle. Morocco operates a strict zero-tolerance policy on drink-driving.
Local laws
A number of Moroccan laws differ significantly from those of many visiting countries. Same-sex sexual relations are criminalised, and public displays of affection between any couple can attract unwanted attention or intervention, particularly in conservative areas. Sexual relations outside marriage are also prohibited under Moroccan law. Visitors are strongly advised to be discreet about personal relationships.
The possession, use, or sale of illegal drugs — including cannabis, which is widely cultivated in northern Morocco — carries severe penalties, including imprisonment and heavy fines. Cannabis is illegal regardless of how openly it may appear to be tolerated in some areas, and accepting offers from strangers is a significant legal risk.
Photographing military installations, soldiers, police officers, or border areas is prohibited. Signs are usually posted to indicate restricted zones.
Attempting to distribute religious literature or to convert Muslims to another faith is a serious criminal offence.
Scams and safety
Fes is generally a safe city with low rates of violent crime, but visitors should be alert to common tourist scams. Unofficial guides near Bab Bou Jeloud — the main entrance to the medina — may approach you and offer to show you around, often leading you to commission-based shops. Politely but firmly decline. Taxi drivers may sometimes decline to use the meter, or quote inflated fares; always insist on the meter for petit taxis or agree a price before getting in. At the tanneries, people offering visitors “free mint” to mask the smell often expect payment afterwards — it is better to bring your own mint or a scarf.
Currency
The Moroccan dirham (MAD) cannot legally be exported from Morocco, so it should be spent or exchanged before departure. Most restaurants and medina shops operate on a cash-only basis, so carrying sufficient small notes at all times is important. ATMs are widely available in the Ville Nouvelle. Bargaining is expected and enjoyed in the souks — a common starting approach is to offer around 40 to 50 per cent of the initial asking price and negotiate from there.
Language
Arabic and French are the primary languages of Fes. English is increasingly spoken in tourist areas, hotels, and restaurants, but a few words of French or even Moroccan Arabic (Darija) will be warmly received and go a long way in establishing goodwill with local people.
The best time to visit Morocco
🌸 Spring (March to May)
Spring is widely regarded as one of the finest times to travel to Morocco. Temperatures across the country sit at a comfortable 15–25°C, the landscape is green and flowering, and the famous Dadès Valley bursts with roses during the annual Rose Festival in May. The Atlas Mountains are still capped with snow in early spring, providing a dramatic backdrop to the warmer valleys below. Coastal cities such as Essaouira and Agadir enjoy pleasant breezes, while Marrakech and Fès reward explorers with long, warm days without the crushing summer heat. Crowds begin to build from April onwards, but the overall atmosphere remains relaxed and the light is exceptional for photography.
What to pack: Light layers and a cardigan for cooler mornings and evenings, comfortable walking shoes for the medinas, a sun hat, sunscreen, and a lightweight scarf — useful for visiting mosques and souks alike.
☀️ Summer (June to August)
Summer in Morocco is intense. Inland cities such as Marrakech and Fès can reach 40°C or above, making midday exploration genuinely challenging. That said, summer has its own rewards for the heat-tolerant traveller. The Sahara Desert offers extraordinary overnight camp experiences and star-filled skies, and accommodation prices drop noticeably compared to the peak spring and autumn seasons. The Atlantic coast — particularly Essaouira and Agadir — remains refreshingly breezy and rarely exceeds 25°C, making it a popular escape for Moroccans and visitors alike. The Rif and Atlas mountain villages stay cool and are worth seeking out. Those planning a summer visit should schedule outdoor activities in the early morning or evening and embrace the slower, shaded midday rhythm of local life.
What to pack: Loose, breathable linen or cotton clothing (long sleeves are practical and culturally appropriate), a wide-brimmed hat, high-SPF sunscreen, sandals and one pair of closed-toe shoes, a large lightweight scarf, and a reusable water bottle.
🍂 Autumn (September to November)
Autumn rivals spring as the most enjoyable season to visit Morocco. Temperatures ease from the summer extremes to a more manageable 18–28°C, and the Sahara Desert becomes genuinely inviting once again as the fierce heat fades. The date harvest in the southern oases — particularly around Erfoud and the Tafilalt region — is a spectacular sight, with palms laden with fruit and local festivals celebrating the season. October brings golden light and quieter roads, making it ideal for a road trip through the valleys and gorges of the south. The Atlas Mountains are accessible before the first winter snows arrive in November, and the cities of Marrakech and Fès are lively but not overwhelmed.
What to pack: Light layers with a jacket or mid-layer for cooler evenings, comfortable shoes suitable for uneven medina streets, sunscreen, a small daypack for day trips, and a light pashmina or scarf for versatility.
❄️ Winter (December to February)
Winter is Morocco’s most underrated season. While Marrakech and Fès can be surprisingly chilly — with temperatures dipping to 8°C at night — the days are often bright and crisp, and the souks and medinas have a relaxed, unhurried quality that is difficult to find during busier months. Prices are at their lowest, and popular sites such as the Bahia Palace and the Majorelle Garden can be enjoyed without queuing. In the High Atlas, skiing at Oukaimeden is a unique experience, and the snow-dusted mountain villages are extraordinarily photogenic. The south of the country — Ouarzazate, Zagora, and the Drâa Valley — remains warm and sunny during winter, making it an excellent destination for those escaping the grey of northern Europe.
What to pack: Warm layers including a wool jumper and a proper jacket, a scarf and hat for mountain areas and cold nights, waterproof shoes, and thermals if you are heading into the Atlas Mountains or sleeping in a desert camp.
The Overall Best Time to Visit
For most travellers, spring (March to May) and autumn (September to November) offer the ideal balance of pleasant weather, manageable crowds, and access to the full range of Morocco’s landscapes — from the Sahara to the Atlas peaks to the Atlantic coast. Of the two, October stands out as perhaps the single best month: the summer heat has passed, the desert is at its most inviting, the date harvest is in full swing, and the quality of light is exceptional. Those willing to visit outside these windows will find real rewards: winter brings remarkable value and solitude in the imperial cities, while summer opens up the coast and the desert night sky to those who can bear the heat.
Where to stay in Fes
1. Upscale: Riad Marjana suites & Spa
Riad Marjana Suites & Spa is a traditional riad located in the medina of Fes, one of Morocco’s oldest and most historically significant cities. The property offers a small number of individually decorated suites that draw on classic Moroccan craftsmanship — think zellige tilework, carved plasterwork and cedarwood ceilings. Guests can use the on-site hammam and spa, which offers a range of treatments using locally sourced ingredients. The riad’s central courtyard, with its fountain and surrounding greenery, provides a quiet retreat from the noise and activity of the medina streets outside. Breakfast is typically served on the rooftop terrace, where views extend across the rooftops of the old city. The location places guests within easy walking distance of key sights including the Bou Inania Medersa and the famous tanneries. It suits travellers looking for an authentic stay rather than a large hotel experience.
2. Mid-Range: Riad Fez Unique
Tucked into the medina of Fes, Riad Fez Unique is a restored traditional riad offering a calm base from which to explore one of the world’s best-preserved medieval cities. The property features the classic central courtyard layout, with rooms arranged around a tiled atrium and a rooftop terrace that looks out over the rooftops of the old city. Interiors lean on traditional Moroccan craftsmanship — zellige tilework, carved plasterwork and cedarwood ceilings — without tipping into pastiche. Rooms are comfortable and reasonably well appointed, and staff are noted for being helpful and straightforward to deal with. Breakfast is served on the terrace when weather allows. The location puts you within walking distance of the main sights, including the tanneries and the Bou Inania Madrasa, though navigating the surrounding alleyways takes some getting used to. Good value for the medina.
3. Budget: Moroccan Dream Hostel
Located in the heart of Fes el-Bali, Moroccan Dream Hostel is a solid choice for budget travellers wanting to be close to the action. The hostel sits within easy walking distance of the medina’s main sights, including the famous tanneries and the Bou Inania Madrasa. Rooms are clean and simply furnished, with both dormitory and private options available, catering to solo travellers and small groups alike. Staff are generally praised for being helpful with local recommendations and arranging day trips to nearby destinations such as Meknes and Volubilis. The communal areas give guests a decent chance to meet fellow travellers, which is part of the appeal for those exploring Morocco on a tighter budget. Breakfast is available on site, and the rooftop terrace offers reasonable views over the old city. A straightforward, no-fuss base for exploring one of Morocco’s most compelling cities.
More to Explore
