I lived in Fez for nine months in 2010 and my life certainly went around in circles the entire time. My co-workers and friends warned me about the dangers of getting mugged at night, being endlessly followed and possibly assaulted, the dangers of walking around the Medina at night and the aggressive nature of the drug addicts. Men followed and harassed me during the day and for the most part, Moroccan men were a no-let-up pain in the ass. At one point I was going to live in the Fes el Bali before I reconsidered as the house where I would have been living was in a location just too nerve-wracking for me to contemplate, with an angry neighbor sporadically sabotaging the electrical box hanging on a wall outside, the entrance to the house unfinished, the landlord in another country, and a walk home at night through a particularly dismal and dark part of the Medina, creating a fear I couldn't counter. The negative feedback and my own intuition compelled me to consider my safety first and foremost, to the chagrin of my friend.
Casablanca to Fes by Bus
It was a ride through barren landscapes and small villages where streets, storefronts, parks, and water fountains were filled with debris and heaps of rotting garbage and in some cases, maggoty animal carcasses buzzing with flies. Starched bones lay in tangled heaps and the stench of urine and garbage permeated the air and lingered in my mouth, leaving me nauseated when we finally stopped for our scheduled lunch of goat meat, potatoes and coca-cola.