Before travelling to the medieval marvel that is Marrakech, I did a fair bit of reading and trawled the internet for all the information I might conceivably need. I watched The Man Who Knew Too Much, the Hitchcock classic that&rsquos set in this Moroc­can city, a number of times. But no amount of homework, it seemed, could have prepared me for the sights and sounds of the old fortified town or medina of Marrakech for its wild labyrinthine streets that just would not let me find my hotel, for the stream of Arabic words in which I thought I would soon drown, or for the delightful chaos all around. There were orange juice vendors hollering, snake charmers playing music, men in full-length jellabas telling stories and fortunes, women in veils scurrying past with children scampering in their wake, mule-drawn carts jostling with Mercedes for road space and overwhelmed tourists capturing the &lsquoexotic&rsquo with their cameras.