Fez Encounter [antikvár]

THIS IS FEZ Visitors to Fez often talk about that magical moment when the medina suddenly becomes fabulous rather than foreign, revelatory rather than overwhelming. The great novelist Amin Maalouf writes of uncovering the city's layers ' veil by veil, like a bride in her marriage chamber', and though most visitors resemble bashful bridegrooms on their first day in town, they're usually pretty swift to get into the connubial swing of things here, failing into a deep infatuation with all things Fassi within days. Walking through the medina is a good case in point. On day one, you'll probably spend most of your time trying to ignore touts, dodge the crowds and sidestep donkey poo. Day two will be different, though. You'll walk around a corner and unexpectedly come upon a local house-^ wife filling a brass pitcher at a spectacularly beautiful tile-encrusted fountain. Or you'll discover a stall where fresh rose petals are being sold, their sweet fragrance mingling with that of the spicy brochettes (kebabs) that are being grilled on an adjacent stand. By day three you'll come to the realisation that the call to prayer is the most evocative music you've ever heard, and that the delicately carved wooden mashrabiya screens on the neighbourhood medersas (theological schools) are the most gorgeous architectural detail you've ever encountered. By day four the die will be well and truly cast: you'll be irrevocably and lastingly in love. Here, the travel experience is as unexpected as it is extraordinary. You can listen to a Sufi brotherhood 'meet the face of God' through music, watch an elderly master craftsman show his young grandson the proper way to hand-stitch a yellow leather babouche (slipper), or get lost in labyrinthine lanes that have hardly changed appearance over a millennium. Put simply, getting the most out of Fez is easy. The difficult part is leaving.