“Othman, is that a mosque?”
“No – a restaurant.”
“Not that. Over there.” I lean forward and point out of the windscreen at the tower, soft terracotta against the jagged mountain face. “Is THAT a mosque?”
“Yes, yes. Mosque. You wan stop? Take photo?”
Pix and Roo glance up at me. They clutch their cameras hopefully.
“No. No picture,” I tell our taxi driver. “Othman, I want to go inside the mosque.”