Just after arriving at my riad in Fez, I could vaguely hear a drum session playing neaerby. Up on the roof where sounds of the rest of the street opened up.
Gathering all of this in, who else would arrive around 20 minutes later but the echoing muezzin. As their prayers reach crescendo, the drumming weakens for a moment, before returning to full pace once again. Eventually everyone calls it a night, apart from the kids in the street.
All of this combines into a remarkable juxtoposition. Megaphoned piousness, the intensity of maintaining drum rhythym, and the relaxed leisure of children chasing creative outlets in the medina.
