You can buy anything while doing lunch in the casbah. A colourful pageant of hawkers cycles past our pavement cafe – pulling barrows laden with olives, dates, vegetables, bread, yoghurt, strawberries, cherries and melons. A water carrier in red and green Aztec dress sells water by the goblet – but we stick to our bottled water.

Casablanca passes by our streetside table. Imitating the locals, we buy bread and nectar-sweet melon to augment our lunch order. Moving among the lunchtime crowd, a shoeshine boy polishes our shoes to a shiny gleam for small change. Beggars move from table to table, living off the generosity of those who feed the less fortunate.

A haze of smoke from charcoal barbecues and wood-fired ovens swirls over the row of informal pavement cafés. The spicy aroma of roasted kebabs and kofte seduces us with our first taste of spicy Moroccan cuisine in the marketplace. Sipping sweet mint tea, we dip chunks of bread into a bowl of fiery harissa and enjoy an exotic lunch over a Casablanca concerto of car hooters, the muezzins and hawkers shouting their wares.

The meat market in the nouvelle medina is not for the squeamish. When I ask what kind of meat we’re eating, our guide laughs and points out the bloody signage hanging over each stall - a grisly camel head swaying grotesquely on a long neck, a severed horse’s head and, to our relief, a sheep’s head at our chosen café. Our guide says approvingly, “Don’t worry. The meat is very fresh” but I wish I hadn’t looked.

If you’re looking for Rick’s Café, you’ll find it near the waterfront on one of the wide boulevards reminiscent of Paris. “Bogey and the piano man are long gone but film buffs will find a complete reconstruction of the Casbalanca movie set – even though all the scenes were shot in Hollywood. Completed in 2004, Rick’s Café is a newcomer to the old city of white-washed houses the locals call Casa for short.

Leaving the district of holy men behind, we visit the old central market on Rue Colbert in a district of old art deco buildings. I buy a kilo of olives from the barrels of green, yellow, black and sun-dried olives rubbed with harissa, parsley, salt and spices. Casablanca is famous for its seafood – and the market is piled high with oysters (called “pearls”), squid, octopus, sardines, shellfish and, to our horror, trays of live tortoises. (A culinary delicacy, ten thousand tortoises are consumed annually in Morocco.)

Towering over the waterfront, the Hassan II Mosque symbolises Casablanca’s civic status as the modern capital of Morocco. Built at a cost of US$0,5 billion by six thousand Moroccan artisans, the landmark 210m minaret is the highest in the world – calling 25 000 worshippers to prayer in the high-tech mosque with a retractable roof, massive carved doors, mosaic arches and courtyards. Opened in 1993 to mark King Hassan’s sixtieth birthday, the mosque is one of the city’s main tourist attractions.

You could catch one of the thousands of red “petit” or “grand” taxis (old Peugeots) – but the best way to see the city is on foot. A city with a multi-cultural Berber, Islamic, Jewish, Portuguese and French heritage, Casablanca is dotted with mosques, synagogues, Greek Orthodox and Catholic and Protestant churches. A rich mix of French colonial and traditional Moorish styles, the huge civic buildings range from the palais de justice to post office and prefecture. Casablanca even has a stunning white cathedral with buttresses and gargoyles in the heart of a Muslim city.

We also visit the Jewish Museum of Morocco in the residential suburb of Oasis. According to Zhor Rehihil, the Muslim curator, it is the only Jewish museum in the Islamic world. She says, “We want to preserve the Jewish heritage of Morocco as well as the Islamic and Christian cultures.” A treasure trove of artefacts exhibited in a privately owned villa, it tells the story of the once thriving community of “les Juifs du Maroc”. An estimated 5000 Sephardic Jews live side-by-side with Muslims in Morocco today.

Muslims and Jews share a history of religious persecution - over a million fled to North Africa during the conquistador’s subjugation of Spain and Portugal in the thirteenth century. The Muslims stayed in the Maghreb but some 70 000 Moroccan Jews emigrated to Israel, Europe and the USA during the 1960’s and 1970’s, leaving behind evocative cemeteries, synagogues and residential quarters throughout Morocco. We were entranced by the collection of ancient tibah (pulpits), circumcision chairs, Bar Mitzvah tefillim, Torah scrolls and Hannukah candelabras in the museum.

The curator says, “The museum was an orphanage for Jewish children in the 1940s. Young Muslims like me are researching Jewish history. We’re trying to understand the role of a minority culture in Morocco. We get many visitors from Israel.”

We head north to Rabat. Our grand tour of the imperial cities of Morocco – Rabat, Meknes, Fez and Marrakesh – takes us on a 1050 kilometre circuit from the coast to the Middle and High Atlas. We spend the next week travelling through the four capitals which reflect the old regional strongholds of the sultans of Morocco. Built to dazzle subjects with an ostentatious show of wealth and power, each imperial city has an identity as distinct as the dynasties which rose and fell over the centuries.

Azzedin, our driver, is a big band jazz fan, who plays the Sultans of Swing on the way to Meknes. He speaks little English. To get around the language barrier, we pick up a new guide at each destination. The official guides are easily identified by their white djellaba (robe) and badge – best avoid the many faux guides living off commissions from the merchants who will take you for an expensive carpet ride in the souqs.

Madame Haja Mahjuba is amazed to find us at her doorway the next day, admiring her white-washed home in the ancient casbah of Rabat. Returning with her shopping from the souq, she finds us lost in a labyrinth of alleyways entranced by elaborate Andalusian grills, mosaic murals, studded wooden doorways and blue Mediterranean shutters.

“Salam ou alekum” (Peace be with you) she says with a warm smile, beckoning us into her home, “La shukran ‘la wezhb” (You are welcome).”

We recline on soft cushions over a glass of mint tea and sweet pastries. Complete strangers in the exotic landscape of Morocco, we enjoy an intimate encounter in an everyday setting. One of her children admires the newly painted Henna decorations on Heather’s hands. Azzedin Moulouki, our affable driver, translates fragments of conversation, subsiding into rapid-fire French whenever unsure of what is said.

Set on a bluff overlooking a river estuary and the Atlantic, the Oudaias casbah (“the fortress of the unvanquished”) feels as impregnable as a rock. The tourist ticket-sellers at the huge 12th century gate of Bab Oudaia still control access to the fortified city. The Sallee rovers, swashbuckling pirates, ruled these ramparts in the 1700s, plundering ships and seizing slaves on raids into the Mediterranean. The Moors, Corsairs and colonists all left their signature on this strategic outpost in North Africa.

Strolling in the exquisite Andalusian gardens, we visit the 17th century palace built by Moulay Ismail, the statesman sultan who unified the divided tribes of the country once known as “bled el siba” (the land of lawlessness). One of his descendants, King Mohammed VI, rules Morocco today from his sprawling royal palace in Rabat, the administrative and political capital since 1912. Watching me photograph the imperial guards, one of the policemen jokes, “Hey Ali Baba! Hey big man with the beard!”

Smart cavalry guards in white and guardians in holy green protect the marble mausoleums of the king’s father and grandfather. I’m soon humming, “The changing guards of Mohammed’s palace” to the tune of that ridiculous Buckingham song.

Inside the mausoleum, an imam, the spiritual guardians of the tombs, chants from the Koran every minute of every day. We look up at the Hassan Tower, a 44m high minaret erected in 1195, Rabat’s most famous landmark. A water carrier in a garish Aztec headdress and costume with a clutter of copper cups asks US $2 per snapshot.

We enter the grand imperial city of Meknes via Bab-al-Monsour, rated the most monumental gateway in Morocco. The mellah – the traditional Jewish quarter – inside the city walls was once home to the artisans who worked in the Sultan’s palace.

Ahmed Ben Omar, today’s guide, says Sultan Moulay Ismail took fifty years to build a city intended to rival the Palace of Versailles – with a grand palace, lake, fountains, gardens, mosques and medina. The imperial palace of Meknes came to be known as Dar el-Kebir (“The Big”) – perhaps a forerunner of The Big Easy or The Big Apple?

The Place el-Hedim, the massive town square, leads us to the silver, jewellery, linen and spice souqs. Whereas Rabat is known for its embroidery and Sale pottery, Meknes is renowned for its marquetry, filigree silver and linen. (If you can believe the salesmen, the profits all go to the orphans of Fransican nuns.) After another long and pointless bartering session in the carpet souq, we buy bright babouches (leather slippers) for a song (R50 a pair) in the soft shoe souq (try saying that quickly).

The larger-than-life Sultan who seized power from 83 competing brothers and half-brothers, had 500 wives, 2800 children and 12 000 horses. We march over the massive parade ground where Moulay Ismail inspected the 16 000 African slaves in his Black Guard, a militia which expanded his rule across Morocco in the early 1700s.

The granary is a very scenic backdrop– Martin Scorsese filmed “The Last Temptation of Christ” in these vaults and in nearby Volubilis, the ruins of an ancient Roman city. Posing for a photograph in the immense underground granary and stable which fed all the Sultan’s horses and men, our guide complains, “Why photograph me? I am not Omar Sharif. I don’t play cards, I don’t own horses and I don’t have any women!”

Fact File: If You Go (280w)

The author was a guest of Qatar Airways who fly directly from South Africa to Doha with a connecting service to Morocco. Doha is a global travel hub with onward connections to 63 destinations in Europe, Africa, the Middle East and the Far-East. Contact Qatar Airways on 0861 861868, 011 523 2928 or see www.qatarairways.com.

Tour operator: Our itinerary was sponsored by Egypt and Beyond, a specialist tour operator for North African and the Middle East based in Johannesburg. Tel: 011 6784777, email: info@egyptandbeyond.co.za

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• Travellers voted Qatar Airways one of the world's top three five-star airlines in a recent poll. From check-in to in-flight service, meals and drinks and on-schedule flights and connections, economy class was excellent. The expanding fleet is new with excellent facilities and good in-flight entertainment in English.

• Costs: An 8-day tour of Imperial Morocco costs from R5285 per person (excluding airfares), including half-board accommodation in four-star hotels, transfers, tours, entrance fees to heritage sites, driver and guide.

• Currency: Dirham 2 = R1,50. The cost of food and beverages is relatively inexpensive – our meal in the casbah cost under R50 per head. Water, beer and wine is more expensive at hotels. Guides expect R125 per half-day and a R20 tip.

• Bartering in the Casbah: Leather goods, jewellery and ceramics are cheap. Expect to settle about 60% of the initial asking price for most goods. Be cautious when buying carpets which range in quality from foreign factory-made to the real thing.

• Time difference = 2 hours ahead of SA.

• Visas: South African passport holders require a visa obtainable from the Moroccan Consulate in Pretoria via your travel agent.