Surprisingly, all proceeded according to our plan during our last morning in Fes. Frigid cold – check. Last loaf of warm bread from the baker’s next door – check. Clothes, books, kitchen supplies, and other gear bagged and heaped beside the door – check.
At 7:30, right on time, our caretaker Jawwad knocked at the door. Our carrosa was here, waiting at the end of our alleyway. The push-cart’s operator helped us lug the bags to the cart and cinch them on precariously. The wheels looked like they were about to buckle under the weight, but he and Jawwad, huffing and puffing together, managed to set the cart in motion. Bent
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