Today was the opening of the Festival of Sufi Culture in Fez, which runs until the 25th. I’m here on assignment for The View From Fez. You can see our documentation of the opening day here.

In the morning I walked through the wrecking yards in Inezgane. Its like a market made up of different car parts and metal scrap. I saw people covered in oil, bent over old engines, and old men stacking and oiling pieces of metal for some future customer who hope will one day point and say “that’s just the part I’m looking for.” Near by is a field where people without jobs spread out blankets and try to earn a living selling all manner of junk. I smiled and everywhere was greeted with a friendly “Salamaleico.” The first time I walked through, I felt self-conscious about taking pictures. I didn’t want to be that asshole tourist making a safari out of peoples lives in the slums. Afterwards I regretted not getting any pictures of such an interesting place, and decided to make a morning trip before I left town.

I mistakenly thought that Inezgane was a separate town from Agadir. It turns out, its the city center, and a major transport hub. Its a city of motors; everywhere you turn, there are buses idling, taxis dropping of people, and motorbikes buzzing by. Every other business is a mechanic or body shop. In the grand taxi rank, drivers heading every conceivable destination in Morocco wait for hours for their turn, and the necessary 6 people to fill their taxi.

In Tazenakht, I ran into Simon. He lives in his van with a dog called Tawa. They offered me a ride west, and we camped together one night by the side of the road. Simon is from France. We talked in French and compared our experiences of Morocco. My limited vocabulary made it more difficult to express certain ideas, but because we had a similar attitude towards traveling, I felt like we could understand each other pretty well, even when words failed.