Patrick Tangye Photography

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Marrakech

To get to Marrakech we had to take an overnight train from Tangier. The train itself was this beautiful old electric engine, with what looked like classic railway carriages attached. We were travelling in Second Class so we found a berth and shut the door.

It had two vinyl bench seats - one along either wall - and a small table between them under the window. I was slightly concerned that someone might sneak into the compartment during the night and make off with the my camera, so I did what I could: the camera was on the table, covered by my baseball cap. I'd also looped my arm through the strap for extra security. Not perfect by any means but it was enough to put my mind at ease.

We tried to stay awake as long as possible. That, of course, was never going to be.

The gentle roll and sway of the train, coupled with the soft clickety-clack of the wheels on track as we sped through the night combined together into a soothing rhythm that conspired to make us drift off.

I remember the door opening and someone entering. It was late - I couldn't tell you the time - but he looked friendly enough. I don't think we spoke, but we acknowledged him with a simple nod of the head. Then I drifted off again. When I woke next the door was sliding shut and the mysterious man had gone. But my camera was still safe and sound under the cap, so I closed my eyes and drifted off yet again.

When we woke up at about 6am my brother realised his glasses were missing.

We went to search for this dude, but he had vanished. What I found instead was a gorgeous sunrise of pink and purple and orange and yellow. I stood at the end of the carriage in an open sliding door and leaned out to watch the world whipping past in the beautiful dawn light.

Risking my life for this photo? Worth it.

We never did find that man, nor did my brothers glasses ever turn up. Instead we met a lovely man on his way to work, who happened to sit in our compartment with us. He didn't speak English and we didn't speak French but somehow we communicated enough to let him know we were on our way to Marrakech with nowhere to stay and no idea where to go.

He took us with him when he got off the train and together we went to his office (he worked for a company that made and sold beautiful candles so the smell was divine), and he started calling hotels in the area.

Before too long he had booked us into this beautiful hotel set just off the main square, Jemaa El-Fna, and even walked us to it's door. I can't for the life of me remember the name of it, but I do remember the entrance were big, beautiful, and ornate wooden doors. Upon entering you were greeted by an open courtyard with a small fountain in the middle, and palm fronds on each corner. It was incredibly peaceful, which was especially surprising considering the hustle and bustle on the road just outside.

The room was functional - plain even - but the beds were comfy and we had our own bathroom. Plus the hotel itself was reasonably empty, and breakfast was included (always an important consideration for two young men!).

The location was probably the biggest drawcard, being so close to the main square. It meant we were there within minutes, exploring the stalls and experiencing the onslaught of smells, sights, and sounds that came with them.

There you see a cobra dancing to a tune of a man playing the recorder; over there you see a goat slaughtered and put on a spit, it's head baked and put on display with glassy eyes that see no more; there a man gesturing you to try the meat cooking on his charcoal brazier; smoke wafting over the marketplace, infusing the air with the scent of cooking food, spices, and so much more.

The hustle and bustle of Marrakech.It was a riotous mess of humanity, with people wheeling and dealing, shouting and gesturing - it was in a way overwhelming, but exciting.We spent several days in Marrakech - the longest stretch we stayed anywhere in Morocco. It was just such a fascinating city, filled with new and exciting things to explore.We even went on a day trip inland, to the door of the desert: Ouarzazate (and it's surrounds). There we explored ancient cities of ochre and clay.Watching the world go by. Blending in with the locals.It was truly and incredible and eye-opening experience, to witness a whole other culture I'd never really been exposed to before. Everywhere we went, were met with kindness and generosity - people were never afraid to offer us help with directions, or offer us the opportunity to join them and their family for dinner, or even find and book a place for us to stay.And it's one I hope to experience again one day.A young boy curious to see who this strange man with the camera is.