...Are quite possibly all crazy.

What I really wish I knew was what drove the Fassis to become such leeches?  Honestly, I love Fez...I love the way it smells, the way it looks, the things I can eat and buy there, but I really don't love the Fassis.  Not one bit.

Recently, a friend from the US came to visit.  Our first (and only, as she ended up getting sick) side trip was to Fez - my boyfriend drove us to our hotel, waited, then the three of us taxied our way to Fez al-Bali aka the medina.  We arrived, did some shopping, and then...it started to pour.  My friend was getting hungry.  My boyfriend was getting irritated.  So we did what any Americans would do and had my boyfriend ask some guy for directions to a restaurant.

Please keep in mind that I am not stupid nor naive.  I know Morocco, and I know better than to ask someone here for directions and expect that they'll just point a finger left or right and leave it at that.  But it was pouring.  And we were wet and hungry.  In other words, we'd turned into whiny American tourists.

So my boyfriend and my friend and I followed some guy through the bowels of the medina, up hill, down hill, around hill, everywhere, until finally we reached some unnamed restaurant.  Our "guide" kept saying in shoddy English (despite the fact that neither American had really spoken a word of English up to that point) "I find you good meal, good meal."  We, cranky, did not protest.

And good meal it was.  The restaurant was beautiful, as was the delicious spread:

What was not delicious, however, was the bill.  After all was said and done, the previously lively and English speaking owner plopped down a bill in front of us that read 1,070dh.

For those of you following along at home, that's about $100.  For food that usually costs a maximum of maybe $20 (and usually less than that).  300dh for a tajine?  Are you fucking kidding me? 

But, my lovely American guest lives in New York City, and after picking my boyfriend and my jaws up off the floor, she offered to pay, rationalizing the cost by how much she might pay for a sumptuous feast such as ours in New York.

All is well that ends well, and our meal ended with us full, slightly more dry, and certainly happy, at least with our stomachs.