I traveled to Morocco for the first time in 1976. It was one of my first assignments and I spent 30 days traveling in a Land Rover with bone jarring springs and sleeping on a one inch foam pad. It was often 125 °. I ate goat's head soup with craftsmen in the Marrakech Medina and wrestled with rug merchants on ornate carpets in Fez. I loved it and on most days I felt like I had stepped back into the first century. I returned in 2001 half way through my career with my gorgeous wife and our two daughters and stayed in 4 star hotels and palaces. We had a driver to take us wherever we wished. Fez was still biblical in design, but now every rooftop sported a satellite dish. And as wonderful and comfortable as it was, I missed the magic of my first adventure abroad. I did not miss my foam pad.