The tanneries are what everyone remembers. In the Medina of Fez, at the Chouara quarter, round stone vats stand in rows like a giant palette, filled with white lime, red, yellow and brown dyes, and men stand knee-deep in them soaking hides of goat, sheep and cow as their ancestors have done for centuries. The smell is strong, and visitors are handed sprigs of mint to hold under their noses from the leather shops above, where you watch from a terrace.
Fez is more than leather. Coppersmiths hammer large pots in Place Seffarine, weavers work at looms, and carpenters carve cedar in tiny workshops, with guilds that go back to the Middle Ages. Sweet makers sell almond pastries, and bakers carry trays of bread to the communal ovens. The Fassi kitchen is regarded as the most refined in Morocco, with dishes such as pastilla, a pie of pigeon wrapped in paper-thin pastry and dusted with sugar and cinnamon, and tagines with quince or prunes.
Finding your way is part of the experience. The medina has no real map in the mind, and the best advice is to choose a landmark, such as the Bab Boujloud gate or the Qarawiyyin mosque, and to accept that you will be lost. Someone will always point the way, sometimes for a tip. Shops close on Fridays at midday for prayer, and the streets quieten at dusk. Shop prices are negotiable, and a calm sense of humour helps.
Ride in from the new town and leave the bike at a guarded lot, since the lanes cannot take a motorcycle. Traffic around the old city gates is thick, with petit taxis and carts. Roads leave toward the Middle Atlas, where cedar forests shelter Barbary macaques near Azrou, and toward Meknes. Fuel is easy in the new town. Spring and autumn are the best seasons, with summer heat strong and winter nights cold.