Dusk in Tangier. People drifted in waves through the downtown streets. Blue and yellow taxis whizzed by, crammed with passengers sharing rides home. At a table outside the venerable Gran Café de Paris on the Place de France, a bow-tied waiter served my drink on a silver tray and I quickly fell into the local pastime of watching the world go by over glasses of mint tea or (half espresso, half milk). Inside, the timeworn decor looks unchanged from the days when writers such as Tennessee Williams and Jean Genet drifted through. If someone told me café culture was invented
