John's addicted to mint tea. He even has it instead of coffee at breakfast. I need my injection of caffiene to wake me up, then it's into the Medina with Abdel, our new friend from yesterday. Before we enter the labyrinth, we visit the Royal Palace where the King of Morocco stays when he's in Fes - 160 acres of stunning architecture surrounded by an enclosing wall and an ornate gate.
Then up to south hills to visit the south castle - one of two fortifications protecting the Medina in the years gone by. We are both immensely impressed by the artisans creating intricate ceramic mosaics up in the pottery cooperative where clay tiles are shaped, baked, fired, coloured and broken up in to tiny fragments which then make up stunning designs as tables and fountains.
Heading in to the Medina is like walking back in time - it's a cliche, but an apt one - this 9th century walled town as 9,500 streets, some only wide enough for a single person to walk along at a time - dark warrens where it would be all too easy to get lost, and vendors selling everything from pomegranates to jewelry, clothes to meat.
At one such place we watch while chickens are despatched, plucked and butchered with expert precision. A highlight for us both is the view over the tanneries of Fes - the famous vats where animal skins are prepared, coloured and dried read for making in to leather goods. We are warned about the stench as we climb the steps to the roof for the vantage point, and are each given sprigs of mint to hold over our noses. We pass a couple of Americans on the way down who warn us to keep them pressed to our faces at all times. Rising to the challenge, we goad each other in to seeing who can last the longest....our true grit carries us through and we survive the ordeal without the need to cover up. The stench is pretty intense though and I recall a National Geographic article on the "10 worse jobs in the world" - the "tannery boy in Fes" was high on the list!.
Lunch in a classic Moroccan restaurant in the Medina - great food and ambience, then off to be true tourists to buy a Fes hat each, and I succumb to a cashmere "jellaba" - the Moroccan cloak - simply because I want to be Obi Wan Kenobi from Star Wars. 
Visit a Moroccan herbalist who promises he can cure John's snoring with a strange black herb which you use like smelling salts - almost knocks our heads off when we inhale it. No doubt i'll see if it's worked on the ferry back to the UK.
Tomorrow Marrakech - only 400kms away.
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