![Mecca's Other Pilgrimage](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/blogger_img_proxy/AEn0k_sESV5Zm90zWhDmAjU1bMVC39pJm1pZRbY3z7sSHx_9cdI7GaeU-zY5IWRL6eFeTL3cIww1a1xCaTiAyiDbR9NH3cfoQfIaw8vY6CGr6XlrwTYfewkKHIsV_4YCGfwpgcEz1ATnhsTED8_aC_HdYwSd83YZ2cxB-OwjZjCl8PMSeSF4id5VhE_mSZA=s0-d)
It was well past midnight. Lit with fluorescent tubes in the colors of the Saudi flag, the petrol station had the energy of a middle-aged man toiling through a graveyard shift. Men stood beside a few cars out front. More were parked in the back for the night, forming a sort of question mark on the station’s perimeter. A man approached me with a question about my destination: “Mecca? Mecca, Mecca, Mecca.”
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