One of the great joys of travel, if you’re a certain kind of person, is discovering how many places are still basically OK when you pull out a cigar and start to smoke it. I don’t mean indoors, of course — I’m not a savage — but it’s a real joy to ask a waiter at an outdoor cafe in Tangier, as I did last week, if it’s OK to smoke. 

“Smoking, c’est permis?” I asked. I have no idea if that’s how you’re supposed to say it, but I was instantly understood. The waiter shrugged as if to say, oui monsieur.