North America has beavers. Europe and Asia have beavers. Britain should have them too, but we killed the last one a few centuries ago. But now they have turned up on a river in southern England. No one knows how they got there, but the official reaction is that they must be captured.
When I booked my trip to Morocco, I had only a few notions in mind: good surf, good food and a drastic cultural change from my humdrum winter in England. It was a bonus that what I came to discover during my 12-day trip was far more than what I expected.
Names of cities are not just collections of letters. When you read "Rome" or hear "Hanoi" you get a firecracker flash. A row of mental lightbulbs pops on, you see a private marquee picture of the place, and then, when you think of something else, it's gone.