After two intense days crossing Morocco from Marrakech to Fez, through the High Atlas, Kasbahs, and the golden dunes of the Sahara, we arrived in Fez just after sunset, dusty, tired, and excited. The city felt different right away: more intimate, more layered, and pulsing with centuries of history.
We checked into Riad Toyour (Riad of Birds), a peaceful haven nestled just outside the medina’s chaos. The name was fitting as birdsong echoed softly through the courtyard.
That night, we dined right there in the riad’s open-air courtyard, surrounded by orange trees and tiled walls. We shared a variety of Moroccan mezze, fragrant vegetable tagines, and warm, spiced stews that felt like the perfect welcome to this storied city.
Day 1: Wandering the Medina’s Maze
Breakfast the next morning was served in the same courtyard, and it was a Moroccan feast: every kind of bread, pancake, and preserve you could imagine, along with fresh juice and coffee. After such a tranquil start, we stepped out into a different world.
Our local guide met us at the riad and led us into the Fez medina, a place that’s not just old, but living history. We began at Bab Bou Jeloud, the city’s iconic gate: blue on the outside (the colour of Fez), and green on the inside (the colour of Islam). That duality set the tone for the city: always layered, always in motion.
We wandered through Place Sffarine, home to traditional metalworkers, their rhythmic hammering echoing through narrow alleys.
Then we visited the Nejjarine Museum of Wooden Arts & Crafts, housed in a beautifully restored caravanserai. The building itself, with its lattice balconies and zellij tilework, was just as impressive as the centuries-old tools and crafts it held.
No visit to Fez is complete without a stop at the tanneries. From the rooftop of a leather shop, we looked out over a surreal, almost medieval scene: rows of honeycomb-like stone vats, some filled with chalky white lime, others glowing with vibrant reds, yellows, and indigos. The process hasn’t changed much since medieval times. First, the hides are soaked in vats of lime and pigeon droppings, a natural source of ammonia, to loosen the hair and soften the skins. This stage can take several days and is as hard on the nose as it is on the hides. Workers then scrub the skins clean before moving them to the dyeing vats, where they’re soaked in natural pigments: saffron for yellow, poppy for red, indigo for blue.
Yes, the smell is very real (many shops offer a sprig of mint to soften the blow), but it’s part of the experience, a sensory stamp that stays with you long after you’ve left.
Our final stop was the Al Attarine Madrasa, a jewel box of a building tucked near the spice and perfume markets. It’s smaller than some of the city’s other religious schools, but no less stunning. Its cedar woodwork, intricate stucco, and exquisite zellij tile patterns make it a quiet masterpiece of Marinid architecture. Inside, we stood for a while in the central courtyard, taking in the craftsmanship and calm, a moment of peace in the heart of the medina.
After saying goodbye to our guide, we were more than ready for lunch. We headed to Café Clock, a beloved spot known for its eclectic vibe and famous camel burger. Full disclosure: I passed on the camel and went for the Falafel Super Bowl, which came with hummus, pickles, and yoghurt tahini. It was fresh, filling, and delicious.
By mid-afternoon, we retreated to our riad for some much-needed rest. Fez is fascinating, but it’s also overwhelming. A short nap in a shaded room was exactly what we needed.
That evening, we ventured out again, this time to Dar Roumana, one of Fez’s most beautiful riads turned fine-dining restaurant. The setting was sublime: candlelit tables, carved stucco walls, and arched ceilings that made it feel like you were eating in a palace. It was the perfect contrast to the day’s sensory overload.
Day Two: Gardens, Gates, and a Glimpse of Modern Fez
We began our second day in Fez with a visit to the Bou Inania Madrasa, one of the most architecturally significant religious schools in Morocco. Unlike the smaller Al Attarine Madrasa, Bou Inania feels grand and solemn, with a towering minaret, richly carved wood, and intricate zellij tilework that commands quiet awe. It’s also one of the few religious buildings in the country open to non-Muslims, offering a rare look inside Morocco’s sacred craftsmanship.
Just outside, we stopped to admire the water clock, a curious medieval mechanism whose wooden beams and brass bowls once measured time using flowing water. Though no longer functional, it’s a fascinating reminder of Fez’s historic innovations.
Next, we strolled through Jnan Sbil Gardens, a peaceful green respite from the medina’s tight lanes. The scent of orange blossoms lingered in the air, and we wandered past fountains and shaded walkways as birds flitted through the trees. It felt like a deep exhale.
We continued our walk through Bab Semmarine, one of the grand gates leading into the southern part of the medina. This area felt slightly less chaotic, with wider paths and a different rhythm.
In the Jewish quarter, we visited the Aben Danan Synagogue, a humble yet important space that speaks to the city’s once-thriving Jewish community. Its wooden bimah and Torah ark tell stories of a layered cultural past.
From there, we made our way to the Royal Palace of Fez, or rather, its monumental golden doors. While the palace itself isn’t open to the public, the doors are worth the stop: massive, gleaming, and framed by intricate tile and carved cedar.
We finished our morning loop at Bab Dekkakin, another grand gate marking the edge of the medina, before heading to The Ruined Garden for lunch. True to its name, the restaurant is set among the romantic remains of an old riad, now overgrown with greenery. We dined on flavorful salads, grilled meats, and mint tea, tucked among flowering vines and stone walls.
After a few hours of rest back at Riad Toyour, we set out again around sunset to visit the Ville Nouvelle, Fez’s newer, French-built quarter. We walked down Avenue Allal Ben Abdellah, where wide boulevards and European-style cafés made for a striking contrast to the medina’s medieval maze.
We ended the day with drinks on a rooftop bar at a modern hotel, watching the light fade over this endlessly complex city.
Day 3: Final Wanderings and a Last Taste of Fez
After one last breakfast beneath the orange trees at Riad Toyour, we stepped out for a final wander through the Fez medina. There was no guide this time, no real destination. We moved slowly, letting ourselves get lost among the stalls and alleyways we were just beginning to recognise.
The souks felt different now. Not because they’d changed, but because we had. The noise, the narrowness, and the calls of shopkeepers now felt familiar. We lingered in shops selling hand-tooled leather, intricate ceramics, and copper lanterns that caught the morning light like stained glass.
Eventually, we made our way to the Fez Heritage Centre, drawn by its reputation for authentic, locally made goods and transparent pricing. It felt less like a shop and more like a small museum, with artisans at work and shelves filled with things made by hand, not by machine.
As we wandered the eastern edge of the medina, we passed the Andalusian Mosque, its minaret rising above the rooftops. Though non-Muslims aren’t allowed inside, just standing near it, hearing the call to prayer and watching locals filter through the arched gate, gave a quiet sense of reverence.
We were, however, able to enter the Mausoleum of Moulay Idriss, one of the holiest sites in Morocco. The space glowed with devotion—intricate tilework, low murmurs of prayer, and the soft shuffle of slippers on marble. Though we were only allowed in the outer sections, the peace of the place stayed with us long after we stepped back outside.
Our final meal in Fez was at Le Tarbouche, a cosy, no-fuss spot just off the medina’s main path. I went for the sardine meatball tagine, which came bubbling in its clay pot, rich with spices and just the right amount of heat. On the side, a pile of golden potato wedges, which were crispy and perfect for scooping. We also shared a variety of cooked Moroccan salads: smoky aubergine, sweet carrots with cumin, and a zesty tomato-pepper mix that felt like summer on a plate. It was simple, comforting, and full of flavour.
Fez is not an easy city. It doesn’t unfold all at once. But if you let it, it stays with you—woven into your memory like the threads of its famous carpets: colorful, complex, and utterly unique.
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