The tanneries in Fes are one of the cities most iconic sights. Long before going, I had seen photographs and postcards with images of what appeared to be a scene out of ancient times.
The tanneries that we visited were in the heart of the medina.
It isn't possible to get in amongst the tanning pits themselves, but the narrow alleyways are lined with young Moroccans willing to lead you to a great vantage point from the roof of one of the many leather shops for a small fee. I don't think I would have found them otherwise.
The view of the medina from the top of a roof.
Of course you are then given a sales pitch and if there is a sale your guide makes a commission.
The odour of the tanneries hits you a short ways to the views and one literally follows their nose.
Part of the processing includes pigeon shit and cow urine (for potassium). Colour comes from indigo, saffron, and poppy. Yellow skins lay out to dry in the picture above.
The morning is the best time to get there when the pits are awash with vibrant colour. I fell in love with the red.
It is claimed that tanning leather in Morocco goes back several millennia, and little has changed since medieval times.
Tanners are organised according to ancient guild principles, with workers typically born into the job. Above a worker paints chalk on the fresh skins. Mixed with a chemical it helps break down the meaty bit so that a fine leather can be made.
Unfortunately, health and safety principles are similarly old-fashioned and health problems among the workers who are knee-deep in chemicals all day, are not uncommon.
The tannery where the raw skin comes (above) is covered in wool and has an ancient, almost biblical, feel.
The family that ran this tannery were Berber and had been working it for generations.
Donkeys still labour through the narrow street carrying skins to dye pits, which still constructed to traditional designs.
Above a man cuts open the skins. The four legs are not slit flat. Heaven knows how they got the animal out.
The pile of skins waiting for treatment lay in a heap on the ground.
A view of one tannery from the roof.
Nigel often turns to me at different at different moments in Morocco and asks, "do you feel like you are in a foreign country?" Uh...yes!
The upper level of the tannery.
The shops sell a wonderful array of purses, stools, slippers, and clothes all made from leather. I was eyeing the red slippers, but delayed buying until we were out of the leather district when prices were a 3rd lower.
The tanneries that we visited were in the heart of the medina.
It isn't possible to get in amongst the tanning pits themselves, but the narrow alleyways are lined with young Moroccans willing to lead you to a great vantage point from the roof of one of the many leather shops for a small fee. I don't think I would have found them otherwise.
The view of the medina from the top of a roof.
Of course you are then given a sales pitch and if there is a sale your guide makes a commission.
The odour of the tanneries hits you a short ways to the views and one literally follows their nose.
Part of the processing includes pigeon shit and cow urine (for potassium). Colour comes from indigo, saffron, and poppy. Yellow skins lay out to dry in the picture above.
The morning is the best time to get there when the pits are awash with vibrant colour. I fell in love with the red.
It is claimed that tanning leather in Morocco goes back several millennia, and little has changed since medieval times.
Tanners are organised according to ancient guild principles, with workers typically born into the job. Above a worker paints chalk on the fresh skins. Mixed with a chemical it helps break down the meaty bit so that a fine leather can be made.
Unfortunately, health and safety principles are similarly old-fashioned and health problems among the workers who are knee-deep in chemicals all day, are not uncommon.
The tannery where the raw skin comes (above) is covered in wool and has an ancient, almost biblical, feel.
The family that ran this tannery were Berber and had been working it for generations.
Donkeys still labour through the narrow street carrying skins to dye pits, which still constructed to traditional designs.
Above a man cuts open the skins. The four legs are not slit flat. Heaven knows how they got the animal out.
The pile of skins waiting for treatment lay in a heap on the ground.
A view of one tannery from the roof.
Nigel often turns to me at different at different moments in Morocco and asks, "do you feel like you are in a foreign country?" Uh...yes!
The upper level of the tannery.
The shops sell a wonderful array of purses, stools, slippers, and clothes all made from leather. I was eyeing the red slippers, but delayed buying until we were out of the leather district when prices were a 3rd lower.
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