Lost in the Old City
迷宮の旧市街で出会う少年
Two days later, Haru arrived in Fez, an city in the north of Morocco.
The old town, called the medina, was built more than a thousand years ago.
Its streets were named long before any modern map was drawn.
Haru stepped through a great gate where merchants had traded for centuries.
Inside, he was surrounded by noise, colour, and the smell of fresh spices.
The tall tower from his grandfather's map rose above the crowded rooftops.
"This must be the first place," he thought, and his heart beat faster.
He walked into the of alleys where sunlight reached the ground.
Soon he could not find the small square where he had started his walk.
Every corner looked the same, and every street was filled with moving people.
He reached for his phone, but the battery had already died in the heat.
Without a map or a signal, Haru was completely lost in the old city.
He passed a where was dyed in huge stone pots.
He passed a market where fresh bread was sold from wooden carts.
The walls around him had been painted blue by hands long gone.
A thin boy of about twelve was watching him from a shaded doorway.
"You are lost," the boy said in careful English, and he smiled kindly.
His name was Yassin, and he offered to guide Haru for a few coins.
Haru followed him through alleys where craftsmen bent over their quiet work.
Metal was hammered, wool was spun, and wood was carved on every side.
"This city was made to be a ," Yassin explained with a proud grin.
At last they reached a wide gate where the road to the sea began.
"Beyond this gate you must take a train south, toward the ," Yassin said.
He pointed to the waves that were drawn in the corner of the old map.
"Where the land ends and the sea begins," Haru read aloud in wonder.
Yassin was thanked with a handful of coins and a grateful bow.
Then Haru turned toward the station, where the long sea road was waiting.