One last night in the hammam

Last night the hammam was running late. Women were lingering, and a group of men had started to gather by the door. I missed the signs when I arrived and almost pushed through the double wooden doors into the changing area before a man caught me. "About ten minutes," he told me. I took a seat by the door. The man who performs massages asked me again if I wanted a massage. "Massage good!" he cried. "Massage strong!" I declined and smiled.

Soon Omar, the ticket attendant arrived. He greeted the regulars, shaking hands. Arabit, the luggage attendant then arrived, exchanging another round of greetings. They called into the hammam to see how much longer it would be. A woman cried out. A few straglers emerged and then the female attendant. The men rushed in.

When I left I told Omar and Arabit that I was leaving for Meknes. They wished me well and Godspeed on my travels. Omar asked my address and I gladly gave it to him. "I'll write you," he said. I told him I'd look forward to it.

The night was overcast, but when I returned to my hotel I lingered on the roof looking out over the square. Ice cream sellers had set up their machines, petit taxis lingered in their queue. Next door, the shell of a five star hotel slumbered. Construction had started just four months ago; they're hoping to open in two more.

Fes on a weekday is decidedly different than Fes on a Sunday, and the Fes I left was a different Fes than the one I first encountered. On weekdays, the town seems to slumber, resting before the next market day. In the morning I wandered the medina briefly, but then left preferring to remember it as a place teeming with people. It didn't seem right to disturb the medina as it slept.
Posted by eku at September 14, 2005 3:21 PM