For many, Morocco conjures images of bustling souks, spicy tagines, and the hypnotic call to prayer echoing from minarets as the sun dips below the horizon. But once you've decided on Morocco, another decision may follow: Fes or Marrakech?

I've now wandered both, lost in the medinas, drunk mint tea from questionable glasses, and woken to the rhythm of the cities. If you’ve been to Marrakech, you know its intoxicating pulse – crazy, chaotic and endlessly stimulating. Where Marrakech is flamboyant, buzzing with activity, and even theatrical, Fes is its quieter, slightly reserved sibling. There’s a gentleness to Fes, an unhurriedness that allows you to sink into the rhythm of daily life rather than race through a bucket list itinerary. The city doesn’t try to perform for you, it simply is. Fes doesn’t shout. It hums.

The Fes medina, Fes el Bali, is the oldest in the country and a UNESCO World Heritage site. Wandering its labyrinthine alleys feels less like sightseeing and more like stepping through time. It’s a place of subtle beauty with fading mosaics on ancient walls, the soft clatter of donkey’s hooves as they still haul goods through narrow alleys (the medina is said to be the largest car-free urban area in the world which is probably why Fes’ air is noticeably cleaner than that of Marrakech).

There are also traditional leather tanneries, equal parts fascinating and pungent. What you won’t find, at least not as much of, is the same frenetic energy that often defines Marrakech.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Marrakech. Its rose-hued walls, the manic whirl of Jemaa el-Fnaa, the sweeping gardens and opulent riads dripping in luxury. But where Marrakech can, at times, feel like it’s performing for tourists with its polished boutiques and designer-draped courtyards, Fes remains unapologetically itself. Fewer Instagrammers, more scholars (it is locally known as the city of scholars); fewer rooftop cocktail bars, more mint tea in mosaic-tiled courtyards.

And the people; gracious, curious, and a touch more reserved than their Marrakech counterparts. Time and again, when I hear reservations around Morocco, it is about the hard sell, which, I have to say, is slowly improving across the board. But in Fes, there is naturally less of it and fewer demands for your attention. Instead, Fassis (yes, I had to Google that) welcome you with a nod, an invitation to look and to chat.

Accommodation in Fes is a treasure hunt in itself. You won’t find the fantastic super-lux hotels of Marrakech, but what you will find are lovingly restored riads that echo with history. Many are still family-owned and run with genuine warmth and care. Our stay at Riad Amira Hotel had my imagination conjuring what it must have been like only a few years previously, when a wealthy family of around thirty people still called it home.

Of course, Marrakech has its magic. The luxury spas and world-class restaurants. The ochre glow of the city at sunset. The electric hum of Jemaa el-Fnaa at dusk, with storytellers and snake charmers vying for your gaze. It’s a city that never lets you sit still for long, always pulling you into its orbit.

But Fes? Fes lets you wander. It’s a place for travellers, not tourists. For those who’d rather sip their coffee while watching a calligrapher at work than pose for Instagram under a canopy of lanterns. For those who don’t mind getting lost, knowing that every turn might lead them to a hidden courtyard or a crumbling medersa adorned with mosaics.

Dining in Fes is equally understated. You’ll find family-run eateries serving what tastes like home-cooked meals. Don’t come expecting chic rooftop fusion, though there are a few new places inching in that direction, but instead, lean into the homeliness.

Ultimately, Fes and Marrakech are not rivals. They are, in a way, two sides of the same Dirham. Marrakech is the flirtatious, seductive one, all colour and drama and craziness, while Fes is the quiet thinker, the old soul who invites you in, then tells you its secrets slowly.