by Anita Draycott
Not only is Marrakech a feast for the senses, it is also a land of contrasts. You’ll spot mini-skirted gals cajoling with women in caftans with henna-tattooed hands and feet, ancient-looking men in long djellabahs talking on cell phones. My favourite fashion statement was a lady swathed in a hooded caftan, sporting a Yankee baseball cap, outrageous rhinestone sunglasses and gold platform Nike runners. At every corner you’ll find a winning photo, but be careful not to insult. Some Moroccans will happily pose for a photo, others will scowl and hide. Most will want a token coin for modeling, especially the youngsters. The garishly costumed water carriers, who traditionally made a modest income by selling cups of water to the parched, have become masters at posing for your camera. They will probably insist on model fees.