Below a searing blue sky, the air is suffused with the sweet odour of animals and the cacophony of haggling is intoxicating. Each building – some cream-coloured, some brightly painted – is tucked in a higgledy-piggledy fashion next to the other along the narrow streets and many are adorned with deftly designed stone arches or filigreed doors. This part of the medina focuses on food and the smell of freshly baked pastries and breads wafts in the air as I squeeze past the tiny wooden carts they are piled on, passing colourful spices, fruit and vegetables too. 

Tangier teeters on the cusp between Europe, Africa, and the Middle East. Separated from Spain’s Andalucía by only 100 km of water, there’s one main cultural difference between them (one which has created an intense conflict over the centuries) and that’s religion, though Andalucía was ruled by Islamic North Africa for over 500 years.  

Much like seeing my name in Arabic for the first time (the undulating scroll is so much more romantic than Times New Roman), entering the Medina offers an almost quixotic buzz. Our group started the tour outside the old city in a small grassy square lined with bohemian cafes and dotted with benches where locals smoked or sipped coffee. Steps away, the exotic and ancient Medina is like another dimension where nearly everyone – men and women, old and young – is dressed in the traditional Djellaba, a loose and flowing robe with a pointed hood much cooler than close-fitting Western clothes and infinitely more mystical in appearance.