and so the wise words of richard gilmore hold true.

fez is a big city. a confusing city. an amazingly arabic city. the huge vats of dye contrast absurdly with the tv dishes that populate the horizon everywhere you look. the constant attention from the men can become overwhelming in a matter of moments. yet the serene calm in the early mornings makes up for the chaos of the midday heat. if you don’t pay attention you will get run over by a donkey. if you don’t pay attention you will miss the grammar schools, taught by girls barely old enough to be in high school. without even paying attention you can’t help but notice the camel heads hanging in the shops, the whole animals that have had their skin and body parts removed, rendering them unrecognizable (to me at least). and the cats. there are cats everywhere. the smallest kittens i have ever seen. searching for little scraps to eat greedily on the street. when i am sitting on the rooftop terrace of my hotel, sipping my mint tea and listening to the hauntingly beautiful calls to prayer i’m not quite sure how to feel. western, for sure. amazed. blessed. overwhelmed.