Last night I slept like a rock. I thought I was over my jetlag, but my body had a different idea. I remember turning out the light, and hitting the bed, but I was out after that. At 5:45, I was briefly awakened by the call-to-prayer of the neighborhood mosque. The call-to-prayer is made 5 times a day, and by now I've gotten used to it - in fact, it is kind of comforting. Several times on my previous trips to Europe, I would wake up from a jetlagged stupor in a dark room and literally have no idea where I was. Here, the call-to-prayer quickly reminds me where I am. This morning, reassured, I went back to sleep. At 8:30, I stumbled out, finding that my hosts had been up since 6:30 and had already
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