I’m quickly discovering one all-important word to describe traveling in Morocco: insh’allah, or, in Portuguese, oxala. They both mean “God willing,” which normally seems like an idle wish, but here is meant as an actual prayer. Nothing happens here without the will of God. Trains, taxis, breakfast — it all is completely dependent on the will of God.

Thus, insh’allah, we finally made it to Fez yesterday afternoon, just late enough to lend the meandering walkways of the medina an ominous gloom. Just late enough to make us start to wonder if perhaps this time God was not in fact willing.

But we got here OK, and now are eating a sumptuous breakfast of bread, fried bread, Nutella, olive oil, jam, hard boiled eggs with cumin on them, and tar-like black coffee. And then… the medina. Insh’allah.

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