The Photography Club

“I feel so lethargic!” said Paula.

Yeah, that’s a good word, lethargic. It’s hardly onomatopoetic, yet it seems to capture that almost liquid feeling; lassitude; letting everything go, muscles softening, sinews slack.

It’s that kind of day. We are having lunch at a café we found recently, just inside the Bab Boujloud, the famed Blue Gate. (Except on this side it’s green; blue is the outside side.) I wanted to come here because of the excellent view of the Bab from the terrace. We’ve found the food is quite good, and the banana juice Paula ordered was surprisingly tasty. (It’s actually a smoothie, quite popular here; I’d sure like to see a banana juicer, though.)

Bab Bjouloud, the Blue Gate; from our terrace restaurant, the green (inside) side

Bab Bjouloud from the outside

The weather has turned a corner: Winter is done! Goodbye cold days, hello Spring and that warm sun - 85ºF! But enjoy it while you can, it gets powerfully hot here in the summer - 100º.

We’re taking it easy today, after two intense days of exploring. Saturday we were on our own, and investigated some parts of the medina we had never seen before. Sunday, though, we were with the Photography Club.

Yes, the Photography Club. Paula, inveterate researcher that she is, has been reading The View from Fez, a locally-produced English-language website for things of interest in Fez. And, well, she found the Photography Club, part of the American Language Center. 

Our first outing with the Club was about a month ago, to the Merenid Tombs. These were built in the 15^th century to house the remains of the rulers of the day. What I know about the Tombs is they are clearly visible from our terrace and we spend hours staring at them, watching people gather around them and hike down the hill. It’s a particular favorite around sundown, with the clear view of the city to the south and east, and the sun setting in the west. (It may also be popular at sunrise, but so far we haven’t been ambitious enough to check that early.)

The Merenid Tombs (on the hill to the left), seen from our roof-top terrace.

Fez, seen from the Merenid Tombs

On this particular Sunday we met the other photography enthusiasts near the fountain that’s just outside the Bab Boujloud. Omar, the leader, divided us up and we piled into cars for the short trip up the hill to the Tombs, arriving comfortably before sunset. This gave us a chance to talk with the other members, mostly students, about their lives and what they did here in Fez.

    

The ruins of the tombs are picturesque by themselves; the valley behind them is verdant with farms scattered throughout; and of course, the incredibly dense medina of Fez spreads out below. Pretty much anywhere you pointed a camera was worth a photo! But Omar had an assignment for us: slow shutter speeds. Well of course! The sun was on its way down, the sky was darkening, and the city was lighting up.

    

People gather at the Tombs around sunset

The Tombs after sunset

A one-second exposure of the city after sunset

The full moon rising over the hills; another one-second exposure

It was a thrilling experience. Although we’d been up to the tombs before (just the day previously, in fact), being there at night, and being there with other photographers – especially local photographers – was quite another experience. We came away with a better appreciation of the physical beauty of the area, but more important to us was the better appreciation of the Moroccans and their culture.

We somehow managed to miss the next couple of photography meetings, which are held every Sunday, but we made it this week. This time the assignment was street shooting in the medina.

I’ve never thought much about street shooting, although I have a friend who is keen on it. Basically, it means wandering the streets taking photos of interesting things, usually people. There is some controversy around it: is it an invasion of privacy, photographing people in public? (Well, it is in public…) Do people like to have their pictures taken? (Maybe, maybe not.) Do I need to ask permission? Ah…

Case in point: it’s now Easter week, bringing a huge influx of tourists (Spanish escaping the sometimes-crazy Semana Santa; students on Spring break). Saturday we were hurrying up the street to meet someone. I noticed a vendor we had spoken with often (he always has good music playing in his shop: light jazz, or perhaps Johnny Cash, maybe something symphonic). No music on this day, instead he was holding his cell phone in the face of a tourist (tee shirt stretched over belly, large camera around his neck), as if he were taking a picture. The tourist was laughing, but our vendor’s face was screwed up in a grimace of anger. We passed quickly on, but I expect the tourist was being very disrespectful of the vendor's "no photos!" request…

I’m always careful not to take pictures of people in the street, because it can be annoying. But asking permission destroys the spontaneity of the shot. To avoid all of these questions, I just leave street shooting alone. But it occurred to me just a month or two ago (after nine months of continuous travel) that travel photography is street shooting. That, and views of the countryside (landscape photography), and interesting buildings and monuments (architectural photograph). And, maybe, local flora and fauna (nature photography).

So now, our assignment for this day is shooting scenes in the medina: street shooting. And, we are divided into two-person teams. I’m paired with a young guy, a student with a nice SLR, enthusiastic about photography, and a Moroccan. Ah, someone familiar with the language and local customs!

That's my photo buddy on the far left (the one with the camera)

We started out slowly, neither of us feeling comfortable asking people for permission, but soon enough we were flying along snapping away. He’d ask permission, and we’d both take a few shots; or I’d tap him on the shoulder and say, ask this guy! We even got invited into some places I’d never dare to go (indeed, some places I never would have even known about).

Still, photography in the medina is not without its challenges. The streets are narrow, no more than eight feet wide, and lined with tiny shops, often with goods, or customers – or both – spilling into the street. There are always streams of people flowing in both directions, usually a few tourists but mostly locals going about their business. A vendor selling fresh mint or boiled chick peas (garbanzo beans) from a cart slows traffic; a donkey, resigned to his fate and burdened with propane bottles for the many eating places (and private residences; 150,000 people live in the medina) plods slowly up the street. Or perhaps it’s one of the ubiquitous two-wheeled hand carts, expertly guided through the crowd, carrying new appliances, or tourist luggage, or eight-foot steel I-beams for a construction project. (Just because the Fez medina is the world’s largest car-free zone doesn’t mean goods don’t need to get moved around!)

A knock-kneed horse delivers coke and orange soda

More yellow slippers! 

And the stone walls are high, generally three stories. Lattice-work wooden “ceilings” keep out the heat of the sun (especially important in the summer) while allowing air to flow, so it is often quite dark. Except when it isn’t. Intense sunlight slashing through openings produces sharp lighting contrasts. Tight quarters, constant commotion, inconsistent lighting: a perfect storm for photographic frustration. (Oh, and need I mention that everywhere you look are bright colors, outrageous sights, and fascinating people, begging to be captured by your digital image sensor?)

Banging out pots in Place Seffarine

A food stand, great for a quick lunch

But I’ve been roaming these streets for six weeks now, filling my hard drive with hundreds of images. Surely, you must think, I’m a master at this, right? Sadly, no. Slow shutter speeds blur some shots; improper focus upsets others; glare from that sunbeam makes this shot unusable. But I managed to get a few good ones…

Being about five hours from the ocean, we don't eat fish here. But some people do!

This mint seller seems to know more than he'll tell

We don't see many dogs in Fez but cats are highly regarded

Weighing out live chickens. I don't expect them to become pets...

My photo partner taking a head shot

A cat, cozy in the sun, snuggles against tanjine pots for sale

The real value of these meetings, of course, isn’t what we learn about photography (although there is always something to learn!). It’s the connections we make with the locals, with Omar and the other club members, that really makes these meetings so special.