Morocco's charm offensive takes many forms. Down the centuries Marrakech, its most famous city, has catered to all manner of tastes, from the lurid to the languid, lush and occasionally even lascivious. These strands survive and, depending on where one looks, it can be gracious and stylish or earthly and sensual. Backed by the snowcapped High Atlas Mountains, one last great barrier before the sub-Sahara, Marrakech remains one of the most intoxicating places in North Africa.

Knowing it well, I walked to my hotel. Within the medina long winding lanes and alleys wriggled in all directions. Off these yawned dim archways, dark narrow tunnels and discreet leafy courtyards. The whiff of mint and tang of charcoal braziers were old friends, less so the lines of goats' heads and hooves. I bore left onto Rue Ban Doukkala and further along a sharp right through an arch. Within minutes I was skirting the souks and emerging onto the city's heart, the Djemaa el Fna or "place of the Dead".

This erstwhile execution ground is anything but dead. The usual trinkets, services and substances were dangled before me but what I really needed was a fresh orange juice. Thirty-odd juice stalls - an institution if not a landmark - lined up ahead and in the next few days I patronised almost all. Thirst quenched and hotel secured, I wandered off to scour the medina and its souks in particular.

Marrakech is an ancient city: it boasted substantial walls in the 12th Century and the famous Koutoubia Minaret dates from this time. Sacked and rebuilt by spiteful, rival dynasties, by the time of France's Protectorate in 1912 it was looking rather neglected. Today Gueliz, the new town, seems distinctly neat and southern European whereas much of the medina is convoluted, cramped and more atmospheric.

Most of what draws visitors lies in the medina, and the Djemaa el Fna acts as a fulcrum. To its south are palaces, royal tombs and museums, while the souks stretch north. There's nothing quite like total immersion, starting with pottery, dried fruit and textiles, cruising through wool and sheepskins and finally admitting you're lost amongst the babouches or leather slippers.

Initially the souks seem dense, even daunting. Labyrinthine lanes defy navigation while zebrine sunbeams filter through iron trellises. In reality, many crafts cluster together: the Souk Cherratin (leather) is near the slipper-makers off which straggles Souks Haddadine (blacksmiths), Chouari (carpenters) and Teinturiers (wool dyers).

Swanky spotlit emporia with credit card signs and quadrilingual salesmen line the main routes. They sell carpets and saddlebags, masks, lamps and marquetry. The deeper you go, the more frugal the boutiques. Shops become stalls, workshops and storerooms, little courtyards with auctions and men with hooded gowns, djellabas, vanishing round blind corners. It's a place shaded with many moods, where one can walk a hundred metres but back a century.

Some merchants' wares suggest another world rather than another age. Apothecary stalls are amongst the most bizarre and reflect a widespread belief in potions and spells, of black (and white) magic. Dried lizards, claws, skins and beaks hang amidst jars and vials of ... well what exactly? Ducking beneath goat horns and fox pelts, I was beckoned into a pungent nook. Its proprietor winked and proposed libidinal "Spanish Fly" - dried beetles to be crushed and administered orally with honey - and another little something for the girlfriend so together we'd combust.

Around us bulged sacks of bark, dried flowers and leaves - the mystique of traditional herbalists. There was henna for hair and tattoos, kohl for eyes and pumice for the skin. We moved on to saffron (real and fake), olives stuffed with almonds or marinated in spices, and intriguing varieties of dates (from sticky and cloying to dry and fibrous). Tucked away here and there were bakeries or grocers where one could sip strong coffee over pains chocolats or baguettes.

"This, my friend," insisted the shopkeeper, "is a bowl made with ancient techniques". Less confidently he added, "handed down by the Sultan's potters." It was a pleasing item but functional rather than decorative, uncommon but not unique. "This," I replied waving a 50 dirham banknote, "is my 500 dirham note". We grinned like boys, dropped the mumbo jumbo and haggled like adults. A tour group arrived as I left, a familiar voice imploring "carved by the Sultan's ancient carvers..."

Bargaining is the bète noire of many visitors to these souks. Small fortunes are made from some tour groups, who, led around like sheep, open their wallets like lemmings. One local shopkeeper explained it like this: worth is what you are prepared to pay, not sell. It goes up, it comes down - "just like the stock market," he added glibly.

For an idea of quality crafts and Moroccan aesthetics, one should make for two museums in the south of the medina. At the Dart Si Said, turn-of-the-century residence of a Sultan's chamberlain, the Museum of Arts boasts carpets and kilims, furniture and jewellery. Rooms and halls open onto a tranquil courtyard with arcades, pools and a pavilion. Nearby, Maison Tiskiwin is a private museum in an elegant mansion. Exhibits - much as at Dar Si Said plus fabrics and clothes - are arranged regionally and reveal the colourful diversity of rural Morocco.

If dusk is the hour of djinns, most seem to roost in the Djemaa el Fna. It's as if the nocturnal spirit of the souks and medina scuttles out to forage. First amble the restaurateurs wheeling carts with benches and stoves, then come water sellers with clown-like outfits and gourds. Gnaoua trance-musicians clash finger cymbals and pound hypnotic beats, heads twirling like tops. There are acrobats and monkeys, men who'd like to drape snakes around your neck, and parrots to predict the future.

While some antics are tourist fluff, others reflect deeper traditions. Berber storytellers and theatre groups hold locals rapt amidst a circle of glowing lanterns. Healers with arcane body-maps and stale pills bark through loud-hailers just as a "dentist" might be pulling teeth.

Plumes of restaurant smoke swirled through this hubbub along with the raucous cries of cooks. Brains, tripe and offal? Or chips, salad and piquant sausages? I retired to a nearby café for robust coffee and a marzipan pastry.

Amar Grover is a freelance travel journalist and photographer based in London. He has visited Morocco numerous times.

Marrakech factfile

Access
Because it is central and has easy access to the Atlantic coast, the Atlas mountains and the imperial cities, Marrakech is a favoured port of entry to Morocco. As a consequence there are direct flights from European cities to Marrakech. From Mewara airport there are twice-daily shuttles to Casablanca and connections several times a week to other centres. The airport is 5km southwest of the city - and costs about 50-60dh by taxi. Taxis around the city are also unmetered but generally charge about 10dh.

Transport
Marrakech is a sprawling city which many locals traverse by mobytette or bicycle. These can be hired and buses run, but the horse-driven carriages (Calèche) are attractive alternatives. Walking is now easier thanks to the Brigade touristique. Upmarket hotels run shuttle services to the town centre.

Trains connect several times a day with Casablanca - a three-hour journey - and links to centres such as Fès, Rabat, Meknes and Tangier. Intercity buses operate from the main bus station to these centres, but journey times can be long. There are coach tours to nearby attractions, and at least 25 car rental agencies. Traffic is usually light on intercity roads but the standard of driving is seldom good and caution is advised.

Useful Information
Get a free copy of Welcome to Marrakech from The Tourist Office (ONMIT) on Place Abdel Moumen Ben Ali. It has much useful information. There is a good (BMCE) bank, with ATM, opposite. The Bank du Maroc also has a number of branches providing easy money changing facilities. Most of the budget hotels are located south of the Djemaa el Fna whilst mid-range establishments tend to be in the Medina area. There are over two dozen four-and five-star hotels in the city. Most of the travel agents have offices in or near Ave Mohammed V. (See also Ed. 10, p122).

Published in Travel Africa Edition Twelve: Summer 2000 Text is subject to Worldwide Copyright (c)