Fes is a city in Morocco that left an indelible memory on me. I would lose myself in its narrow streets, captivated by stalls brimming with scents, colors, and a lively atmosphere filled with stray cats and unexpected encounters with people. My accommodation, a Riad near the blue arch, welcomed me warmly and streamlined my transfer from the airport, making the start of my exploration of Fes much smoother.
I immediately immersed myself in the lively market, surrounded by fruits, vegetables, and animals. Before taking photos, I wanted to understand how to avoid disturbing the locals or being bothersome. The following day, I explored those places once more, seeking the tranquility that the confusion of the previous day didn’t fully allow me to grasp.
The tannery, an iconic place in Fes that I had already visited in 2015, fascinated me once again. There, animal skins are processed in large circular vats using natural dyes. The strong odor struck me deeply, even prompting me to seek out a sprig of mint to mitigate it.
During my exploration, I encountered Oussama, a young man who guided me through hidden alleyways, revealing the city’s secrets. At the tannery, he accepted a voluntary offer for his guidance. We became friends, and I also met his brother, the seller of fresh orange juice. Sitting at his stall, I captured with my camera the authentic expressions of the faces around me.
The following day, I planned to visit Chefchaouen, the famous blue city. After a delightful breakfast of honey-drenched crepes, I organized my trip.
Chefchaouen
My experience in Fes reached a turning point, and the following day was time to bid farewell to Mohammed, the kind owner of the Riad that welcomed me. My Italian review, written briefly, helped bring seven bookings to the Riad in a single evening. Leaving Fes was a moment of slight regret, but another destination awaited me: Chefchaouen.
The bus journey to Chefchaouen lasted about four hours. Fortunately, the vehicle was equipped with air conditioning, essential considering the heat even in spring. Upon arriving at the Chefchaouen bus station, we moved towards the upper part of the city, where the center and our accommodation were located.
I woke up early the next morning, eager to capture the essence of Chefchaouen. The city is renowned for its unique charm, but over the years, I observed it had become highly touristy, with many individuals primarily focused on capturing shots for social media rather than genuinely engaging with the place and its residents. That wasn’t my approach. I aimed to capture the daily lives of the locals and their interaction with the surroundings.
I wandered into the city without a set path, aiming to capture authentic moments. Chefchaouen differed from the hustle of Fes: less chaos and more tranquility. I tried to photograph people engaged in their daily activities, observing their expressive faces and gestures that told their story.
One particularly captivating scene was that of the orange vendors. Everywhere, there were trees laden with oranges, and the vendors were preparing fresh juice for passersby. It was a unique spectacle, full of life and colors.
In the afternoon, we ventured into the upper part of the city, admiring Chefchaouen from a different perspective. The view was breathtaking, and we enjoyed moments of relaxation and tranquility. During sunset, we made our way back towards the square, encountering vibrant scenes. It was as if the city came to life as the sun set, with sounds, music, and games filling the air.
Finally, we shared an authentic dinner in the square, beautifully concluding an intense day in Chefchaouen. The next day would mark the time to return to Fes, but those vivid memories and captured photos would always hold a special place in my thoughts. Chefchaouen, with its magic and authenticity, had left an indelible mark on my journey.
Fes – Part Two
Here I am again on a bus, this time in the opposite direction, heading back to the first city of this journey. I would spend just one night there to break up the journey before heading to the desert the following day. Meanwhile, the blue gate of Fes had become my landmark and seemed to be the meeting point for taxis stopping to pick up and drop off passengers. I head to Mohammed’s Riad and share some of my experience in Chefchaouen with him, showing him a few photos. Then he accompanies me to his friend’s Riad, just a few steps away.
Upon arrival, I notice there’s no one at the property. It seems like the owner doesn’t intend to turn his place into accommodation for travelers; it feels more like a private residence, with the owner sleeping on a couch at the entrance, surrounded by cats. He shows me my room, hands me the keys, and assures me that he’ll prepare breakfast for me at his Riad. His incredible kindness and availability deeply impress me. Perhaps he, too, was struck by me and my attitude from the beginning, which sparked in him the desire to help others. I don’t know, but he truly acted like a gentleman.
Returning to Fes on that hot afternoon, I decided to wait for two friends while enjoying a mint tea, taking advantage of the freshness the mint offered despite it being served hot. Ahead of the appointment, I stopped at a small place I had noticed in the previous days, but it was so tiny that I quickly inquired about availability for three people for the evening. Luckily, there was room for us.
After securing the spot, my attention was captured by a donkey parked in a courtyard overlooking the street. What I saw in those few minutes deeply affected me: it was a scene of poverty. I gave a few euros to the boy who had shown me the courtyard entrance, and I was becoming increasingly aware of how impoverished Morocco was. However, the people seemed to live well, serene, smiling, and carefree. Hygiene left something to be desired, but it was a common trait. It was only four in the afternoon, but I could already feel the intense heat that I hadn’t experienced until that moment in my journey. I decided to take a break for some tea and observe life on the main street, bustling with many people.
At that moment, I noticed a small repair and sales shop for miscellaneous items with a sign that read “RECYCLING WORKSHOP.” There was a young girl with a captivating smile. I was struck by her beauty, with her dark skin and a blue veil that created a fascinating contrast. The waiter who served me tea seemed to know her, so I asked him if I could take some photos of her. After a few attempts, I finally got a yes. Her name was Sabah, like the region in Borneo, a fascinating coincidence. I believe the photo I took of her was one of the most beautiful ones I had taken up to that moment.
That afternoon, we explored many extraordinary alleys, guided by a slightly erratic GPS that led us to extraordinary experiences. In one of the alleys, we encountered a group of boys playing soccer. As soon as they saw us, they stopped and challenged me to take a penalty shot against the barefoot goalkeeper. It was an exhilarating moment, and we shared some moves and laughter. Before dinner, I stopped by to greet my “plump” friend whom I hadn’t seen since I left for Chefchaouen.
I told him about my upcoming trip to the desert. “Inshallah,” he replied, which means “if God wills.” With a hint of sadness, I concluded my stay in Fes, knowing we would part ways, but with the promise to stay in touch.
Transfer to the Sahara.
I woke up the next morning filled with excitement and motivation for the experiences awaiting me as my journey continued. I quickly check the Riad to ensure I haven’t forgotten anything. I had everything ready. I leave Mohammed’s friend’s Riad and head towards his place for breakfast. We bid farewell with a warm hug, and I thank him for everything he did during those days. He reciprocates the thanks and reiterates, “Whatever you need, you have my number.” It’s a nice gesture that makes you feel welcome wherever you go.
The appointment with the Tanboosh Travel owner was set for 7:20 in front of his office, and I arrive 5 minutes early. There was no one around, just cats and bread. The bakers had left the bread in front of the shops for those who had ordered it the day before, displayed openly and easily accessible to anyone passing by. An absurd situation.
The owner arrives and signals for me to follow him. He escorts me to the square where we would depart in a nine-seater van. Once again, I got lucky; being the first to arrive, I chose the seat next to the driver. The travel group consisted of seven people in total: an Italian couple, two Spanish girls, an Austrian guy, myself, and the driver. The atmosphere quickly warmed up, with my phone connected to Bluetooth and all of us singing loudly together.
After an hour of travel, we stopped for coffee and got to know each other. I find myself being positively focused on, the “leader” of the group, a role that comes naturally to me due to my experience as a tour guide. During those moments, strong bonds are formed, even if we only share a few hours of experience. We were all there to share a unique travel moment.
The driver was friendly too, even though he didn’t speak English very well. After a few kilometers, he suggested stopping to see the Barbary macaques, known as Barbary apes, that inhabit the Middle Atlas valleys. It was a unique opportunity for some nature photography, a special moment.
As we approached the Sahara, the landscape changed color and people adopted different attitudes. There were no more donkeys, but instead, people on the streets, often gathered in groups lying on the ground.
We were almost there, just half an hour away. Qualcosa mi stava scuotendo, forse i ricordi del viaggio otto anni prima o l’emozione di tornare nello stesso posto con occhi diversi. Chiedo alla guida di chiamare Ibrahim per comunicargli il punto in cui sarebbe venuto a prendermi.
We arrive and the transfer ends. I tip the guide and warmly greet Ibrahim, with whom I had not seen for eight years but remembered well. I also greet the other guys in the bus, exchanging contacts on Instagram. Then I get into Ibrahim’s off-road vehicle and we are headed to his quarters.
In the Sahara
I find myself spending the first two days in a majestic Kasbah, a sort of fortified citadel run by Ibrahim. The facility includes rooms inside and a tented camp under the sand dunes, where I settle in. Right away I feel that I will be there for some time, wanting to fully immerse myself in the experience and take a particular photo: a camel driver on the dunes against the light, a silhouette. I decide not to leave until I realize this shot.
The magic begins at sunset, when the sun begins to set and the camel drivers move through the dunes, some ready for their work, others returned without passengers. The colors at this time are intense and captivating. During a walk, I notice a young local man lying on the dunes, immersed in the present moment. He wears a turban and looks like a local boy. As I observe him and take some photos, he stands up and shyly approaches.
We exchange greetings, and he shows the items he sells to travelers on evening walks. I am struck by a small glass container with embroidery, ideal for carrying some sand (though not allowed).
I ask him if I can take pictures of him in exchange for the purchase, but capturing his facial expression is more important to me. From then on, I will call him “the dune boy,” and this will not be the last time he appears on my journey.
As evening falls and the boy leaves, I take advantage of a walk in the sand, admiring the beauty of the landscape. I return to the Kasbah and share a green tea with mint prepared by Ibrahim. I get to know the young, carefree staff, except for a Brazilian woman at the front desk who seems annoyed by my presence, perhaps because I am Ibrahim’s friend and not an ordinary tourist.
The first evening passes quietly, and during my stay I establish a kind of friendship with the guys who work there.
One of them helps me treat the wounds on my feet caused by sharp stones on the dunes. Meanwhile, a situation with another person, Oussama, proves unpleasant. I become aware of a possible cheat regarding the phone card I had asked to purchase. I decide to act strategically and manage to get what I was entitled to.
I devote the next day to relaxation and light walks in the dunes, considering the pain in my feet and recent injuries. I opt to spend time in the Kasbah lounge, working on content and images captured in Fes and Chefchaouen. I ask Ibrahim if I can arrange a visit to the surrounding villages to discover local life through the eyes of one of his staff members, Houssin.
In the soul of Sahara
I got used to waking up at 6 a.m. to start my photographic day as soon as the light came up, capturing the best moments for pictures. Despite the pain in my feet, I headed for a nearby tented camp where I had seen camels parked. Some camel drivers seemed to be returning to their camp. I thought it might be an opportunity for the photo I so longed for: the camel driver against the light, with no tourists on the camels, just him and the animals.
I positioned myself in front of the sun, ready to shoot. Unfortunately, I did not succeed in my intent, but I still captured the photos. The camel driver stopped near the quarters of some travelers he had just transported. I thought that once he had unloaded the passengers, he would pick up the camels and head home to rest the animals. I decided to approach, noticing another camel driver under the shade of a palm tree. He had parked his two camels ten meters away. If he got back on the road, I would have the opportunity to capture the desired image.
I waited patiently, trying to pretend to photograph the dunes. Finally, the camel driver moved in the right direction, only 5 meters away from me. All I had to do was press the shutter button. Tac. The burst went off. I had captured the image I was looking for. Shortly thereafter, the other cameleer moved, giving me another silhouette.
That morning, at breakfast, I was so happy and satisfied that I had eaten as much as for four people. But that day was yet to hold many surprises for me. It was then that I met Houssin, a young Saharan man full of vitality, and asked him to show me the soul of that part of the world.
Houssin told me about the changeability of the dunes in the desert, explaining that despite everything, the desert conveyed a constant feeling of vastness. During the jeep ride, I was captivated by a swirl of sand and children playing barefoot in the hot sun. Despite my foot injuries, I could not help but admire them.
That day ended with a night in the desert, led by a young camel driver. We crossed the dunes, stopping at the best spots to take photographs. When we reached the nomadic camp, an elderly Berber man greeted us. The atmosphere was intense and authentic. He fascinated me by telling me about his life in the desert.
Return from nomadic camp, kasbah and camel oasis
The next morning was not what I had imagined: the poncho that had covered me during the night outdoors under the stars proved sufficient even as a blanket. As the camel driver prepared for the crossing, I approached him hoping to spot some animals in the desert, but to no avail.
At that moment, the Saharan came out of the tent, knowing that it was time for departure. He mentioned a greeting and thanked me for choosing his camp. I noticed beautiful light and asked if I could take a portrait. He agreed and struck a pose. That was the most striking photo of the trip, with his scarred face and blue robe against the background of the dunes.
On the way back, I didn’t feel like taking pictures, I just wanted to enjoy those unique moments. The sunset colors, the situation with me and the camel driver in the desert were incredible. Back in the Kasbah of Ibrahim, I binged on honey crepes, green tea and coffee.
Although the sun was high, I went out to take pictures around the Kasbah. Meanwhile, the Brazilian woman at the facility informed me that there would be no room in the evening. Ibrahim reassured her, allowing me to stay as long as I wanted and sleep for free in the lounge.
I remained in the lobby, working on the computer and enjoying tea and coffee. I intercepted the Brazilian woman trying to score consumption, but she did not know that I had a forfeit agreement with Ibrahim. In the afternoon, I took portraits for the boys at the facility, creating a beautiful memory together.
The day passed between PC work and conversations with the boys. The wounds in my feet improved, but the pain persisted. After dinner, I enchanted myself under the starry sky and fell asleep on an outdoor sofa.
I woke up around two o’clock, my feet still sore, and returned to the Kasbah to sleep in my own bed. Meanwhile, I exchanged messages with a couple from Turin who were in an exceptional place not far from me. We decided to visit the market together the following day, a place famous for photographs. I was grateful for the good fortune of doing what I loved and knew I had to persevere. A shooting star in the desert darkness seemed to confirm that I was on the right track. And so, after that busy day, I fell asleep, ready to face new adventures.
Il pozzo del cammelliere e il mercato di Rissani
The next morning, Ibrahim informs me that we would not be leaving for Rissani until later, so I decide to devote the time to the music Houssin had recommended. I wrap myself in headphones and start walking along the road outside the Kasbah, a lonely stretch traveled only by guests and camel drivers.
An unexpected encounter surprises me: I see a man drawing water from a well for his dromedaries. I remember photographing him a few days earlier at dawn in the dunes, a camel driver offering nomadic experiences in the desert. It was a special moment, like many chance encounters on the trip.
After 11 a.m., Ibrahim signals for me to leave for Rissani. There, I immerse myself in the chaos of the market, where donkeys dominate as the main means of transportation. Through alleys and crowded streets, I observe unique scenarios: farmers with animals, boys with turkeys, a reality that seemed extracted from a movie.
Later, accompanied by Ibrahim, I enter a bar run by his friend, Moustapha, but his insistence and proposals do not completely convince me. I ask a friend of Moustapha’s who was acting as a guide for help, but he proves to be uncaring. I decide to go on alone and capture with my camera scenes that conveyed freedom and simplicity, particularly men on donkeys.
Despite sore feet, I return to Moustapha’s bar and, watching the bustle of people and animals, realize how fascinating that market is. Later, I remember having to buy a phone charger. Eventually, I note that the price had been inflated for foreigners, a situation that was beginning to tire me.
Back in the Kasbah, I cool off at the pool and devote the afternoon to selecting and editing photos. In the evening, Moustapha visits us and we chat while sipping mint tea and smoking hookah.
He asked me what my plans were after Merzouga, anticipating an offer of lodging in his restaurant with rented rooms. Although it was an opportunity, I still preferred to enjoy the desert and its surprises. With fatigue and sleepiness setting in, I took my leave and went to sleep, ready to face new adventures in the desert the next day.
Last day in the Sahara
I wake up at dawn with no pain in my feet, enjoying that relief. After breakfast, I decide to relax in my room listening to music before heading out in the late afternoon to run some errands in downtown Merzouga.
I wake up at dawn with no pain in my feet, enjoying that relief. After breakfast, I decide to relax in my room listening to music before heading out in the late afternoon to run some errands in downtown Merzouga.
At the breeders’ oasis, I find a scene of camel drivers resting in the shade, a vision that represents simplicity and life in the desert. Along the way, I reflect on new photographic adventures I may undertake in the future.
In crossing the desert, I take photos of my shadow on the dunes and meet the dune boy who observes the desert with a contemplative air.We exchange a few words and I take some photos, knowing that I would be leaving the next day, heading for Rissani.
The next morning, I check out and, surprising the Brazilian woman, pay for only five nights, including meals and drinks, thanks to the agreement with Ibrahim. I leave a tip for the guys at the facility as a token of gratitude.
I bid farewell to the Sahara oasis, promising to return, and greet Ibrahim with a warm hug. It has been an intense and unforgettable week, full of emotions and unique moments that only that place can give. Before leaving, I leave a small gesture of appreciation for the service provided by the boys, aware of the importance of showing gratitude for the hospitality received.
Rissani
My experience with Moustaphà, an individual who introduced me to a part of Moroccan life that I would rather forget. Moustaphà never liked me. He was the kind of profiteering person who would do anything to get money out of me, but after nearly 15 years of solo travel, I have learned to recognize immediately who shows up in front of me. When it comes to being smart, I don’t back down.
I arrive at his place late in the morning and he lets me have coffee in his café, without offering it, having already marked down the price. He makes me wait because the rooms were not yet ready. Rissani is not exactly a lively place on normal days, but I had decided to go to him, even though I was already regretting that choice. But it is part of the trip.
I was upstairs in the café, ordering lunch and working on my computer, trying to manage the work that was piling up day after day.
I could see Moustaphà trying to attract people to his bar, but no one seemed interested in his offerings. When my room was finally ready, I ask for a fan because of the oppressive heat in North Africa.
After getting everything set up, I grab my camera ready to leave, but Moustaphà keeps trying to get me to buy various things, trying to get commissions on what I would buy. Confirmation that he just wanted to take advantage of me comes when he tells me that he would manage my bus trip and I would have to pay everything to him. I decide to make my own arrangements.
I find a bus office and book my ticket to Ouarzazate for two days later. While I wait, I stop at a café for coffee, mint tea, and a bottle of water, watching the prices to be informed when Moustaphà would bill me.
I go back to him in the afternoon and he asks if I want to go to a spa for massage and steam bath. I accept and he immediately tells me that I will have to pay everything to him when I leave. I understand his move and decide to ignore it.
I go back to my room, trying to avoid Moustaphá, but I finally meet him outside my room. We stop to talk and he asks me what I want for dinner. I decide to go elsewhere to say goodbye to the guys I had lunch with.
The next day is market day. As I explore the market, I find interesting shots, trying to capture the authenticity of Rissani. I also photograph a boy carrying a turkey and a man distributing water to the needy using a kind of bagpipe.
I decide to say goodbye to the shopkeeper who had sold me a necklace the day before. We also meet a mute little boy who guides me to the rooftop from which I manage to photograph an owl. At the end, I give him a small tip for his valuable help.
The next day, while I was on the bus, Moustaphà tried to call me but I texted back, avoiding talking to him. This was the last time I saw him.
My trip to Rissani was an interesting experience, despite the annoyance caused by Moustaphà. It taught me to be more vigilant and not to be easily taken advantage of. I can now say that I learned a valuable lesson on how to navigate through the pitfalls of travel, trying to enjoy every experience despite the small obstacles along the way.
Conclusions
After Rissani I had spent a few days between Ouarzazate and Ait Ben Haddou (the place where the scenes were filmed in the movie “The Gladiator” when he fights in the arena along with the slaves).
The last few days I had not devoted to photography. I was tired and it had been almost twenty days that I had been on the road and I had taken almost 3,000 photographs and I felt that I was satisfied with the work and I felt that everything I could have done I did and I did it to the best of my ability.
One shot from this trip a few months down the road will take second place in an international photography competition and it is the shot of the camel driver in backlighting photographed on the dunes in the days I was at Ibrahim’s.
I would like to say thank you to the whole world for this adventure, to my friends who support me, to my parents who since childhood have always given me all the freedom in the world, and to everyone who has contributed in some way to making this adventure happen.
