One thing that strikes you upon arrival in Morocco are the rows and rows and rows of men sitting in street side cafes lining both sides of each street, drinking (or rather not drinking) their teas and coffees, glancing at their newspapers from time to time, sometimes chatting (though mostly not). It seems a strange custom. Do they not have anything else to do? And what is the attraction of sitting endless hours in cafes doing nothing?
Well, cafe life is like the cake, its proof lies in the doing. Try it. The moment you sit down, a strange languor comes upon you, a feeling of utter calm; all cares and worries leave you; nothing in your life seems important anymore except sitting here, doing nothing.
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