Moroccan farewells.
December 22nd 2006 Whatever second wind I’d found in the desert - a brief revival of my battered spirits that carried me through Meknes - I’m more or less floundering by the time I get to Tangier. It’s been a long month, and suddenly the prospect of unpacking my bags for two weeks in Barcelona sounds as good as a ham sandwich (a Spanish favorite, FYI, that’s been dearly missed). It hardly helps matters that
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