Fez is renowned as a most spiritual city. At 5 pm I am looking down on the rooftops. The scent of the orange blossoms drifts on the air. It is quiet for a big city. A small minaret is in front of me, the Rif mountains behind. Suddenly the the voice of the muezzin rings out from this small minaret. Another to my right and then to my left begin the call to prayer as well. Now from behind I hear first one and then another calling the faithful. A sixth to my right and then I lose count. Now I am surrounded by the sound, wrapped in the voices.
Gradually as it began, first one then another ceases, slowly unwrapping me from the cocoon of sound until only the minaret behind me continues the call. I return slowly to the world around me, refreshed.