Exploring Fez was an assault to the senses.
Despite the popular advice that getting lost in the medina of Fez is half the fun, I would strongly suggest that you go against the conventional wisdom and hire yourself a (reputable and official) tour guide. Not only he can help you to navigate the most puzzling of mazes that was Fez Medina, you’ll be able to look at all the right spots in two sweeping routes across the centuries-old market.
And when you thought you are done with the endless unexpected alleyways and stalls selling everything from camel head to rainbow-coloured leather, there’s another excursion by car round the Royal Palace and up the vantage points to the south and north of the city.
Fez, in all senses of the word, is a living museum. Steeped in history and culture, the old and “new” Fez were bustling with some 60,000 inhabitants. Everything mentioned in my Lonely Planet came to life; traders riding donkeys while talking on mobile phones, children turned their corner of the medina into a makeshift soccer pitch, acrid-smelling tanneries with their rough workers, spiraling minarets jostled for space with countless satellite dishes and of course the infamous Moroccan touts.
It’s a feast for the senses you should indulge in, unhurried.