One of my very most prized travel souvenirs is a vintage kilim, about 75 years old, which I bought more than a decade ago in the otherworldly medina of Fez, Morocco – with its black-and-yellow zigzag motif, it evokes exoticism and the quintessence of travel whenever I look at it. I’m instantly transported back into that world of mint tea and mysterious narrow byways, the tannery where I watched young boys dying leather for shoes and Ottomans, the rooftop restaurant where I first tried tagines
