Picture a castle, deserted and abandoned, succumbing slowly to the ravages of time. Picture a labyrinth of opulent rooms, wrecked and looted, flickering with just the smallest hint of their former greatness. Picture a ruined old man - the once exalted Pasha of Marrakech, the undisputed Lord of the Atlas, entertainer of kings and queens, Hollywood movie icons, writers, scribes, diplomats - turning restlessly in his dusty grave. Picture a journey...

I re-adjust my grip as the car rattles unhealthily along the road into Telouet through a landscape of dusty browns and copper reds, the square flat-roofed houses stacked up like cardboard boxes on the hillside.

Posted by Brendan Sainsbury on www.travelintelligence.net

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