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In Marrakesh, I hired an official, sanctioned-by-the Ministry-of-Tourism guide, through the Tourist Information Office, to ease my way through the maze of souks. I wanted someone local to help me to know what was a good price and to assist with negotiations. Rafik, I was told, was my man. Raffish Rafik, sporting yellow teeth and …

The desert can exact a harsh toll on the skin. And yet, miraculously, its scrubby soil produces a panacea for the ravages of sun and wind: the argan tree. Rich in anti-oxidants, natural vitamin E, carotenes, essential fatty acids and other beneficial ingredients, oil extracted from the nut of this tree is a nutritive, cosmetic …

Marrakesh is liberally peppered with tour companies and touts and, of course, everyone ‘knows’ someone who is a guide/has a minibus or 4×4 or taxi/can introduce you/owns a shop, etc. After two or three false starts, including tea in grubby carpet shop waiting for ‘ my friend Hafik’ to arrive (I think not!) a legit …

The traffic cop shouted. Horns blared. Exhaust fumes and tempers flared. Cars, motorbikes and bicycles were knotted tightly on all sides and lead-ups to the roundabout. The crescendo marked the end of a dusty, gas vapour-filled day. My nose and lungs burned, my skin and hair reeked. And this is a quieter part of Marrakesh. …

I’ve been here two hours and have already got lost in the medina, met two British women at an ATM that didn’t work (they have set hours, apparently) who I shared a cup of mint tea with on a restaurant balcony overlooking the Djemma el Fna – the huge square in the middle of the …