A Little History

In October 2007 we were between yachting jobs and were pounding the pavements in Antibes, France. One Sunday I came across a newspaper article about property in Morocco which contained a small paragraph about Fes and the cheap houses available in the medina. Having always been intrigued by Morocco and looking for a place to open a restaurant that was within our financial reach, the germ of an idea was planted. During my research I came across the blog of Louis Macintosh and his house project in Fes. I dropped him a line asking a few questions about property prices and he emailed back saying that if we ever did decide to act on it we could stay with him in the medina. After a miraculous meeting with our bank in the UK (where they gave two unemployed people a large unsecured loan as a result of a few white lies and the lending policies that have now caused the current economic crisis…) we were on the plane to Fes and knocking on Louis’ door. He was incredibly generous with both his time and knowledge and rapidly got our house hunt underway, despite being hugely sceptical about our time-frame: we had just seven days to find and purchase a house.

Being told “it can’t be done” only spurred us on and on our second day we found the house we wanted. The house had a great feel about it, seemed structurally sound, was a good size for our project, had a great terrace and view and most importantly was in a very accessible location for a restaurant.

The only hitch was that there were two owners, one of whom lived a ten-hour bus ride away from Fes. While waiting for the arrangements to be made, Louis introduced us to some of the Fes medina crew. Café Clock (now a medina institution) was holding its opening parties – there were several! – and we had the chance to meet the locals. The people we came across were so supportive and of like-mind that we felt even more eager to become a part of this quirky community.

Meanwhile the second house owner was on his way to Fes and the sale was arranged for our last day in Morocco. We entered a convoluted process of getting the deposit into the country via several MoneyGram wire transfers, only made possible by the dedicated efforts of my mother in England and a helpful soul at her village newsagent.

The money came through just in time and we headed to the Adoul’s office. Walking through the streets of the medina with brown envelopes stuffed with cash hidden down your jumper is not an experience I’d recommend, however that was just the beginning of a day filled with anxiety. The sale was put in jeopardy three or four times due to incorrect papers, unpalatable taxes owed by the seller, the house price being suddenly increased and so on. Each time we had to leave the Adoul’s office and wait on tenterhooks to see if the problem could be resolved. We didn’t eat all day due to our stomach’s being so tightly knotted with worry and stress. Finally, 45 minutes before we had to take a taxi to the airport, the papers were signed.

Luck was on our side and the hand of Fate that had seemed to be guiding us to this point did not waver. The house was ours.