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At first we wondered which language to use. Soon we realised that any will do; everyone we have met is impressively multi-lingual.

Day 1: No couscous.

My phrase of the day: “You are in wrong location for beans”, advice from our hosts sharing Iftar with us after a day of Ramadan.

Chaos accompanies an arrival, but the streets seem calmer once bags have been checked in.

To four Muslims from Preston – on their long-awaited trip to experience Ramadan with their brothers (not family, just fellow) – Fez is sublime.

I would really feel more welcome if you’d all stop telling me that I am welcome. It’s incessant

Amy is not for sale, sir. Just because she is displaying an elbow, please don’t take that as an invitation.

Taxi ranks here seem akin to hunting ranges. We feel like lame little chickens…

Advice for those who intend to haggle for a taxi: read the guide first. Then you’ll understand that fares do indeed need to multiplied by 6. (Because, of course, you can fit 6 people in a normal car no problem. Relax.)

Day 2: No couscous. (Also no lunch.)

Afternoons are tough times for thirsty Muslims.

At a damned river, parents watch their child sink or swim in the social standings.

90p taxi from Sefrou to Fez.

Avoiding the road, our jeep pummels through the rocky desert (at 3 in the morning.)

Day 3: No couscous.

Hot showers are 24hr in the desert.

Pool pool pool. Splash splash splash. Burn burn burn.

I feel sure I saw this man’s ‘precious local-made fossil stones’ on sale in the market.

No password on the wifi: there are no neighbours to steal it.

My camel massage may eliminate all chance of children.

“You are welcome” begins to sound more like a ritual call. It means “soon, I shall be happy to take all of your money.”

Our desert group brilliantly embody their respective national stereotypes. Germans, Spanish and – we suppose – English, doing as they should.

Day 4: No couscous.

Satellites fill the sky. We have even polluted the stars.

Shooting stars, however, are so numerous that I have expended my wishes.

Morocco plans to double its tourist visitors by 2020. They also plan to keep them for double the time, by making them wait for things at every possible opportunity.

The 5 year old boy in our jeep is excited to be visiting a swimming pool. Too right.

Pharmacies and spice dispensers are one and the same.

A quick journey rarely begins like this: by careering off the highway in search of passengers from mud houses.

“I hate the English”, strong words from anyone, particularly a Muslim on Ramadan. Others are quick to apologise.

Lush green blossoms from a rock chasm.

Clear water bubbles from the rock. Pleasant after our two nights in the desert, but miraculous for a Sahara trekker.

Two Italians spent a month here in Todra. Every morning, they hiked for three hours uphill, then threw themselves into the gorge with only a parachute.

Cous cous! On day 5! …and it is really something of a disappointment.

We have also had practically no spice. Part 2 has a lot to address…

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