The first golden sliver of sunlight appears over the central Atlas Mountains and slices into the crisp, still-cool air, Marrakesh has already stirred into activity. From one distant minaret, and then another, the muezzins call the faithful to morning prayers. In Djemaa El Fna square, the favourite gathering place for the citizens of Marrakesh, there is a sense of quickening activity.
Men leading laden donkeys head for the souks, where every type of North African merchandise is bought, sold or bartered. Tradesmen cross the square on their way to work. Beggars and would-be tourist guides take up strategic positions.
Berber tribesmen, freshly-arrived from the desert, head for the places that have motivated their trip into this town. Veiled women make their busy way to shops and bazaars. The citizens of Marrakesh are easing themselves into the day.
Synonymous with mystery, intrigue and adventure, Marrakesh has always been a magnet for the intrepid traveller. It is the very essence of North Africa. The traveller who has not yet been to this, the pink city of 100,000 palm trees, at the foot of the Central Atlas Mountains, cannot claim to have seen the real Morocco.
Surrounded by its six miles of ramparts, Marrakesh is the old "Imperial City". This was the site of the palace of El Badii, built in the 15th century and a masterpiece. Although El Badii was destroyed during the 17th century, it is not forgotten.
Each June, orchestras congregate from every corner of the Moroccan kingdom to attend the national festival of Marrakesh which lasts for 17 days. The ruins of the old palace are filled with the strains of traditional music and dancing.
The best way to see the city is to hire one of the 300 horse-drawn carriages which ply the city streets. Its true heart is the square of Djemaa El Fna, which resembles the stage of a huge theatre with light and scenery optimised by nature and with the citizens of Marrakesh as the players. There one can be transported five centuries back in time.
By late morning the heat has risen, and so has the dust. A curious crowd gathers around jugglers and timbrel-accompanied dancers. There are bird enthusiasts and bird sellers, hawkers and pick pockets, food sellers and musicians. Blind story tellers recount tales of adventure, romance and heroism which, more often than not, are beyond belief.
Then there are the less lurid but perhaps more educational tellers of tales - men who act out their stories with vivid and bewitching gestures - be they tales of romance and love, battles, stories from the Koran, or tales of nomads. In other spots, public notaries armed with pens sit at makeshift tables awaiting illiterate customers.
A little further on, so-called dentists with rudimentary equipment sit in wait for patients whose toothache is now so fierce that it transcends their fear of these "specialists". Everywhere, colourful tradesmen offer rose-petal scented water. They do not seem to sell much, but love to pose for your camera for a small gratuity.
Strains of music start, slowly becoming louder, shriller and faster. The Gnuouas, black dancers dressed in loose white outfits and colourful embroidered caps, are a great attraction as they swirl frantically to the sound of drums and long metallic castanets until totally exhausted.
Surrounded by fascinated onlookers, who nevertheless give him a wide berth, is a sinister-looking character known as the "snake man". Two live scorpions are crawling over his face, a spider seems almost glued to his skin, and he is clutching a live snake in his mouth. He never fails to draw a huge crowd.
Tame by comparison, and therefore less successful, are the other snake charmers. One sits, foaming at the mouth with hair unkempt, staring at his basketful of shiny black cobras.
To get a really great view of the square, go to the first-floor terrace of one of the many cafes that surround it - the Cafe de France, the Bar Arcana or the Bar de la Place. Take your binoculars and don't hurry away. The show is fascinating.
Soon you reach the entrance to the labyrinth of light and shade loosely known as the souk. This part of the old city is home to the maze of streets, doorways and inner courtyards so essential to Marrakesh tradesmen. You may be lucky and get a guide like Mohamed Almarou who has spent five years studying in the US and speaks excellent English. Only £10 will buy his services for four hours.
He may take you to Avenue Mohammed V, a small, narrow street which is the nearest thing to Ali Baba's cave and will assail all five senses. The small, airless street is crowded and noisy, aromas changing in line with the trades that are represented. The delightful scent surrounding the spice sellers suddenly changes to the strong pungency of leather near the saddle-makers. Donkeys loaded with sacks of produce move slowly through alleyways, their sacks acting like lateral steamrollers threatening to flatten anyone who dares to try and pass them.
There are a few rules one must understand when in the souks. The first is never go alone. You will be assailed by endless wouldbe guides who have incredible persuasion and the stamina to wear you down until you have hired one. After fixing a price, let him protect you from unpleasantness - but stay alert. Secondly, never believe anyone who tells you anything is solid silver, solid gold, or a semi-precious stone. Marrakesh jewellery is made of plated base-metal every time, and those "jewels" may well be plastic.
However, the workmanship is handsome and the artisans have to make a living. One of the fascinating and charming things about the city is the myriad of small, specialised markets. In little squares, often reached by tortuous alleyways, groups of craftsmen, often members of the same families in the same areas of expertise, set up small minisouks. Locals know exactly where to go for what they want.
You may visit the square where the sweetmeat sellers are found or the potters' souk with goods from all over Morocco: vases from Safi; glazed pottery from Demnate and amphoras carefully "aged" to look as if they belonged to Ali Baba.
The souk of Sammarine is where the finest selection of textiles can be found. Huge bolts of silk, muslin, brocade and cottons are stacked to the ceiling. As you pass the El Kbir souk, a group of leatherworkers are making choukaras, men's purses.
Elsewhere, a small square is filled with craftsmen busy making the colourful ceremonial saddles and harnesses so beloved by locals for special events and celebrations. There is a copper souk, a silver souk, a brass souk, and even one that specialises in Russian-style samovars (tea urns). Another amazing place is the woodworkers' area where ancient lathes are still operated by craftsmen who hold the chisels with their toes instead of their fingers.
Above this particular square the dyers ply their craft, imparting vivid colours to the scene as the freshly dyed skeins of silk and wool are hung to dry on frames of reed canes. A few steps past the "Street of the Chemist" is the Larzal Souk where a wool market is held each morning.
In another area, a tiny doorway, easily missed, leads into the Souk Zrabia, full of colourful rugs. The dominant colour indicates its origin. If it is red, the rug is likely to be from Tazenarkt. If black, from Ouarzazate. If pale yellow, from Telouet. If yellow and violet, from Zagora, and the fiery looking rugs with blazing patterns resembling the teeth of a saw are likely to be from Chichaoua.
As the streets empty and the noise level drops, tired and surrounded by purchases, you head for your hotel. If you are staying at the Mamounia, do not miss a pre-dinner stroll in its delightful gardens. Although it is the most elegant and palatial hotel in the country, many others, such as the Palace Badia, are springing up throughout the city and offer excellent value.