« Even during the final days of Ramadan, with the call to prayer speakers close-by, Absinthe was a dream of a place. The rooftop. OmG. No. I cried for the beauty and the color of the sea, the white houses like cubes tumbling towards the blue sea. Loved every minute and hope to return. Can anyone ever forget the smell of harira soup being prepared ... children playing in the street below ... magical. Merci, Tanger! »