Having lived in Egypt above a neighborhood mosque for nearly two years, I was accustomed to hearing the daily call to prayer at first light. I could sleep through it after a while despite its amplified intrusion into my room. My first awakenings in Yemen — in the ancient part of the capital city — unsettled me. You will observe in this limited view four minarets, each of them in morning twilight summoning believers to pray. Multiply these slim towers by ten and you have a sense of what the Old City sounds like before daybreak. The muezzins are young men, their voices energized by testosterone, by electrified speakers, and by competition among their peers. Within a week I found lodgings on the more quiet outskirts of town where I slept soundly and awoke more naturally.