Marrakesh, Marocco: Robert Plant's Personal Fav.

Picture a centuries old labyrinth where you're never really outside or inside. The streets are too narrow for a car but fit a donkey-drawn wagon perfectly. This is old Marrakesh. Finding your way around is impossible, so you accept being lost and explore the next twist. Your taxi driver tries to sell you hash, the nightwatchman tries to sell you hash, the street vendor tries to sell you opium. If they're not old enough to be selling drugs then they will try to give you a guided tour of the city in English, French, Spanish or the language of your choice, or at least try to help you find your way home. The poverty is overwhelming at times. Marrakesh seems an oasis after a train ride through the desert, where the land has nothing to offer; the people in the city seem just as hungry. Europe's proximity adds a sharp contrast. Mercedes and beggars, fine dining and food stands, French and Arabic.

For ten dollars US, two people can stay in a gorgeous Moroccan guest house. To find our buried palace, we had to hire a local man to guide us through five foot high tunnels, stone staircases and dark alleyways. It took our guide about thirty minutes of pushing his wheel barrow, filled with our bags, to finally announce that a 4 foot door covered in dirt, was in fact our destination. On the inside however was a completely different story. The guest house opened up unbelievably on the inside. Our loft had an open concept marble shower and bamboo bunk.

We spent most of our time wandering through the streets of the city, trying to piece together as many things as we could. The centre square featured snakes, monkeys and thieves during the day. At night, elaborate musical performances, street fighting and a huge food market created an atmosphere like no other. It would be easy to go on and on about how wonderful Marrakesh is.... it is a workout to get there.... worth it though.