"...everybody in Casablanca has problems. Yours may work out." (Bogart)... and mine did work out.

It was the summer of 1999. We had just unpacked our luggage at a riad when we heard chanting from every mosque around Marrakech. King Hassan II had died. Everything shut down. Djemma el Fnaa, the main square - usually full of snake charmers, vendors, women decorating hands and feet with henna - was empty.

A mourning procession honoring the King wandered through the Medina.  From our rooftop the city had an eerie glow and the chanting of the Koran continued day and night for three days - a haunting sound to our Western ears.

The long road to Essaouira.

A woman working in a commune; we bought face cream from her.

Essaouira was a port before the Christ period, then a fortress, and is still one of the best anchorages along the Moroccan coast. The mid-day light was so bright the sky was white.

We never found the camel market. A young man told us "Our king dead, no camels for sale." These camels were for hire.

To avoid being harassed (by women and men) all the women in our group dressed conservatively - long  dresses, long sleeves - and we didn't venture out on our own even in a group. By the time we reached Fez, I was restless and starving for that special time with just me, my camera, and the world. I put aside the warnings and crept out at daybreak to explore the graveyard just outside the Medina walls. It was a mistake. I was cursed, followed and relieved to return to the safety of the hotel, but not before I got a few images. Poor and rich were buried side by side - an unmarked stone painted white next to a mausoleum.

Fast forward to 2006 - In just seven years, King Mohammed VI had instituted extensive changes throughout Morocco and the people had responded. I could wander anywhere. Everyone spoke English. The markets and shopkeepers were helpful and friendly.

I learned something interesting about reflections in Morocco. There aren't many! There is little water, few mirrors and not a lot of shiny metal. Still I managed. Here are a mixture of images from the two trips.

On the road to the High Atlas, it seemed everything was made in China.

 But further along the road these markets appeared.

The Kasbah De Tifirte

Thanks to everyone for your encouragement. It's a pleasure to share these images. Liv