Parenting, Still (and Joyfully) in Fez

January 19, 2025|Rick Juliusson

“Papa, hold me!” My little boy would look up at me plaintively, arms upstretched, wide teary eyes, clearly and unabashedly expressing his need for comfort and connection. I vowed then and there to always respond. Once in a while the response had to be a deferral to a later time that I would be careful to honour, but as much as possible I tried to drop my Important Adult Stuff and just be that Dad They Can Count On to always be there.

As the boys grew, their way of asking for comfort and connection evolved, but not the base need, and not my commitment to respond. The look up from the field or stage to see where we’re sitting and if we’re watching. The eager affirmation questioning, “Did you think I could jump that high?” Watching whatever sports highlights or bad music video they choose while eating breakfast together. “Can you give me a ride to…?” Fighting back when wrestling is the easiest way to have physical contact.

Now in their early 20’s, this trip to Morocco is our first time at all with Galen, and first time all four of us together, in a full year. We’re just four equal adults now, right?

In some ways, yes. I can be more open and proactive about my need for ongoing connection with them. I can be a bit less than superhuman - tired, hangry, as unsure of how to hail a taxi as they are. I can expect them to show more interest in my life (which they thankfully do - they even read my blog!) On one particularly steep hill scramble Galen turns around to offer a hand up to his old man (which I respectfully decline, thank you very much!)

But we are still their parents. Over the course of two weeks they come to us for support around finances, work and grad school applications, relationships, health, future plans. They fully delegate all trip research and planning (and, of course, paying) to me. They take comfort in the obvious love between their mama and papa. We happily spend more time actively parenting than anticipated, and it comforts all four of us to still feel safe and supported in our roles.

We are family, there for each other. We continue to find new ways to reach out to each other with some form of “Papa, hold me!” and know that our needs will be met with strong arms and open hearts. As George Strait sings,

Let me tell a secret about a father’s love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
He said, Daddies don’t just love their children every now and then
It’s a love without end, amen.

Casablanca and Marrakech were great introductions to Morocco, and of course the desert trip was out-of-this-world, and now Fes is the perfect final spot to end our time together. We stay inside the old walls of the chaotic jumbling maze of narrow old winding streets of the “medina,” the largest pedestrian mall in the world. It’s 1200 years old, and we navigate its estimated 9,454 alleys by learning the trick that a Hexagon sign means dead end, square means 1 exit, and rectangle means multiple exits. No matter where we go, “helpful” locals are telling us that way is “closed”, and of course they will escort us the correct other way for a small tip.

In semi-organized outings we find the world’s oldest university (Karouine Mosque), the Chouara leather tanneries, traditional metalwork shops along Rue Seffarine, the inside of the one mosque that allows visitors (Bou Inania Madrasa), and the famous “Babi Bou Jeloud” entrance to the medina. We eat new and usually delicious street food (including a cow spleen sandwich) and treat ourselves to Moroccan restaurant feasts. And of course, markets and shops everywhere.

Cow spleen sandwich? Why not?!!!

Bou Inania Madrasa mosque

"Babi Bou Jeloud” entrance to the medina

Falafel with sauces

Hexagonal sign means this is a dead end (but maybe still worth exploring...)

Meat-filled pastry with powdered sugar and cinamon

The nice safe alleyway to our AirBnB

Bou Inania Madrasa school

We failed to eat camel (dromedary) head.

Inside a "Foundouk" - traditional guest house with central courtyard

Back in our Riad - a traditional 3-story home built around a central open courtyard - we relax, play cards, nap, and do our various Business Stuff. We’ve gifted ourselves with four nights in a town most people spend one or two, so we can balance exploring with relaxing, boisterous crowds with intimate family time, and take these final days to integrate what we’ve learned about Africa, ourselves and our family dynamic over this magical two weeks together.

As they continue to grow into their independent adult lives, this type of gathering will be more difficult. Work commitments, partners and (inshallah) grandchildren - and our own increasingly crotchety old-people rutted ways - will change the nature of family time. Not diminish, just change. New ways to be together, be there for each other, continue to manifest new ways of asking and responding to “Papa, hold me!”