1991, Marrakech, Morocco. My first time on African soil. An Interrail (train) ticket allowed fairly free travel through Europe for four weeks, and it also included Morocco. Via Paris, Madrid, Lisbon and some other places I had reached southern Spain, and Morocco was just a day ride away, so I went. Three days non stop, all the way down to Marrakech by nighttrain, and back. The day I spent in Marrakech was a bit of a culture shock, not least because of the many touts and “guides” that aggressively tried to extort money and more money from every foreigner. I got lost in the souq, took some pics (and like for this one on the Jemaa el-Fnaa was made to pay for some), and would go back a few years later.