Mere days ago, I was walking around with a vicious sinus condition and fever of 103.4. This was after I went to the doctor, and I was told that even though I didn’t get a flu shot, it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. This was something else.
I was on the verge of heading to the emergency room, but saw another doctor who seemed a little more sure of what was wrong — sinusitis — and doled out an antibiotic.
Today, I’m going to Morocco, as planned.
Ah, the wonders of antibiotics — before we become immune due to overuse and they no longer work.
I could stay home and recuperate more with some Ginger therapy.
Instead, I’m going to Fes, a Moroccan city with old roots, where a lot of the traditional customs are still being practiced. Most for the benefit of tourists and others because that’s the way it’s always been.
Like — maybe — slaughtering animals in public view and getting hides ready for its world-famous tanneries.
Why would rabid animal-lover moi, who stays away from lamb, duck and feels guilty about chicken, go to such a place?
I’m not looking for Casablanca and Rick’s cafe, which, as I understand it, was all a Hollywood set anyway.
Looks like there are many interesting places on the Mediterranean and Atlantic Ocean. But I only had time and money for a brief visit, so Fes it is.
I wanted something authentically Moroccan, if such a place still exists.
The medina, or old section of of Fes, still sounds like one of the few places in the world worth seeing while it’s still there. A carefully preserved piece of history. Authentic enough to be a UNESCO World Heritage Site. If you follow PL, you know I’m a sucker for UNESCO sites.
Though I want to experience history, I don’t care to be a part it. That’s why, this time, not doing it on my own. I’ve hired a guide from a company recommended by a former TV news colleague.
Gotta run. Got a couple carpets to catch.