Little Cups of Paradise

I am in Fez today -- a city at the heart of Islamic tradition worldwide. And everywhere, at times two or three on a block, are cafes. Men sit at the tables outside for hours drinking mint tea or cafe noir, rich dark espresso. It is difficult to imagine coming home to Starbucks.

Here I experience what I knew in my head in America. Coffee is a foretaste of paradise. It isn't just the flavor, although after three cups an hour ago I crave it again as I write. It is the experience. It is 'wasted time' -- or so we could think as Americans. In reality, it feels like the meaning of our existence, watching people, breathing life, alert to the reality we otherwise rush through.

Traditionally, the cafe is a man's experience. Even noa, there are cafes where women are scorned for entering. But Morocco has changed, and will continue to change. More and more, the young women sit with their friends (even with their boyfriends!). That seems fitting. The Qur'an says that Paradise is for women as much as it is for men.