Fez — a primer on how to be in a medina

Fez is not a city you conquer in a weekend. The medina — nine thousand alleyways inside walls that have been standing for over a thousand years — is designed to disorient you, and then, slowly, to hold you.

The single best decision you can make is to stay inside the medina, in a small riad. There are perhaps a dozen good ones. What you want is a house with a courtyard, a fountain, and no more than eight or ten rooms. Breakfast on the roof at seven, mint tea at four, dinner if they offer it. The rest of the day, out.

Hire a guide for the first morning. Not for the whole trip — for the first morning. Someone local, patient, who is happy to walk slowly and answer questions that are not on any tour script. By the end of that walk you will know which gate you came in through, where the tanneries are (upwind, please), where the good bakeries are, and how to get back to your riad without your phone. From then on, walk it alone.

The medina rewards a rhythm. Mornings for the busy bits — the souks, the madrasas, the leather. Afternoons for the quiet corners — a tiled fountain most tourists never find, a courtyard behind a mosque where the light comes down in slats. Evenings for the roof, or a slow dinner, and one mint tea more than you meant.

Food-wise: order the tagine that is on that day, not the one on the menu. Ask for a home-cooked meal at your riad at least once — a bastilla, a lamb with prunes, a slow-simmered dish that takes them the afternoon. Eat in the courtyard. Bring a book you will not open.

Three or four nights is the right length. Long enough to stop being a stranger in the alleys. Short enough that you leave still wanting more, which is, I think, how you should leave every good place.

A note on nerves: Fez is loud, close, and unfamiliar, and it can feel like a lot on the first afternoon. Give it until the second morning. By breakfast on day two you will know your riad's door from the outside. By dinner on day three you will be recommending it to a friend.