Fes

Our guide at Volubilis drew us a map of how to drive to the camp site we had ended up getting our Tangier hotelier to ring and book for us. We were the only visitors there. Theoretically, there was a swimming pool, which I didn't see but Keith said it only contained a foot of green slime.
The site owners' son Emin, who was about 3 years old, came and we made friends with him. His French was probably about as good as mine, but somehow we communicated.
The campsite was quiet apart from the continual background noise of different dogs barking to each other somewhere in the hills.
Dinner was distinguished by the late discovery that the fish we'd nearly finished cooking was halibut rather than haddock. Fortunately the result was still quite pleasant.
After this, we watched the movie "Hancock", half on my laptop until the battery ran out, the rest on Keith's. Funny to be doing the Hollywood thang in the middle of nowhere, and without mains electricity.
A quiet night's sleep for me, but less so for the others. Instead of "good morning" I got: "you don't half snore." I said it was a lack of alcohol, as they didn't hear a thing the night we hit the wine :-)
We got up really slowly, with a cooked breakfast and time for showers, and didn't start off until 2pm.
Scratching ideas of visiting Moulay Idris or Meknes, we head straight to Fes, which the guide book (back to Lonely Planet now) recommends as the best city for tourists to see.
As we'll be going on from Fes into the "wilds", Keith and Sarah decide they'd like a night in a nice hotel. Me, I don't need any persuading. We pull up in front of a few hotels in the new quarter, and Keith jogs in to inquire prices. The first isn't a hotel, the second is over 200 GBP, the third is the Royal Mirage Hotel and acceptable at about 100 Euros.
A "fixer" attaches himself to Keith and, after saying the hotel has bugs (it doesn't) and he can take us to another, suggests a tour. Strange thing is that he seems to be suggesting we start it some hours ago? It turns out that Morocco has had two time changes recently, one for summer and the other for Ramadan, making sunset (when Moslems can eat again) as early as 6:30pm - sneaky! It also means we started today at 12pm rather than 2pm - the world has changed to match our late wakeup times: amazing!
After being so happy with the guide at Volubilis, we let the fixer take us on a tour of Fes, but Keith makes clear that he doesn't just want to be dragged round shops.
The tour takes us to the tile and mosaic apprentice school, and factory shop; weavers and obligatory "dressed up" photo-op, where they are restrained until Sarah inquires a price; tanneries seen from a balcony accessed through the back of a shop, where all it takes is a close look at one jacket before I'm driven through a sequence of trying on until my protests that we must leave become sufficiently adamant; moving between these is an assault on the senses, the thousand stalls in the narrow alleyways have their own sights and smells and there's the repeated risk of being mown down by a supertanker of the souk - a fully-laden donkey, slow-moving but looming out of the midst and inexorable.
I love it and don't really mind the shops - the sights are there to see because of the trade they do - but Keith and Sarah regret taking the tour feeling they've seen the same elsewhere and would rather have wondered around themselves and seen "less". That's what we'll do in Marrakesh, but it has efficiently covered Fes in the scrag end of day that we actually had available.
We walk to dinner in a guidebook-recommended restaurant, but find it's only doing an unimpressive set menu. Despite this, we manage to order a tagine-served meatball dish that isn't on the menu