So I'm currently flying at around 35,000 feet on my way back home from Marrakech and typing on my iPhone.

The last two days have been a bit of a blur. Marrakech is a city unlike any that I visited before.

As a group we went for another brief walk through the souk to allow us to get our bearings. The streets were just as hectic as the day before and I could feel myself becoming really stressed and uptight.

We were to have a session with Jon or Mike to discuss ideas. I was up first and Jon had an idea of a style that I could shoot. We went out for a walk and Jon demonstrated street photography. With my camera being so small we could position it discreetly around waist level and try to capture street life as it happened. It was a whole new style to me and using it seemed to break all of the rules that I'd spent the last week learning. Composition ranged from tricky to impossible. Pointing in a rough direction and shooting from the hip. The strike rate for this kind of photography is very low. Probably less the one in a hundred are interesting. Less then that again for good ones.

I found it interesting but difficult. I didn't produce anything that I would be  happy to present. I wondered the souk for a couple of hours, but had reached my breaking point. Rude shopkeepers, insane motorists. Tourists stopping randomly when walking behind them. It all added up to one huge headache, and there was no way that I was going to get any decent images while I was wound up so tight. I had a series of images that I was happy to present taken whilst we were cooking with Zora. With this in mind I decided to retire to the Riad and just relax for the remainder of the day. Making my way back I was approached by a man with a monkey on a chain. He introduced himself and grabbed at my hand as if to shake it. the second that he did this the monkey ran up his legs, down his arm, and perched on my shoulder. Still holding firmly onto my hand the guy asked for money in return for a photo. Having been told that the best way to handle this is to not even engage in dialogue. Instead, I looked at his and asked him to kindly remove his monkey from my shoulder. Rather then doing so, he attempted to haggle for a price. I just turned on my heel and started to walk away; monkey still firmly attached. It took a couple of seconds for the guy to realise that I was not stopping and he ran after me shouting for the monkey to come back. He then caught up with me and demanded money for having had the monkey on my shoulder. In my most sincere voice and with a straight face I told him that he wasn’t getting anything. Rounding the corner and out of sight I creased up laughing at the comedy of it all. After Hassans attempted robbery, the prospect of shopkeepers hassling me for money now amuses me. Finally returning to the raid I found that a couple of people had the same idea and spent the rest of the day chatting in the afternoon sun.

For the evening meal, Jon had planned something different. We were to go back to the main square. In the evening this gets converted to a huge food market. Stalls containing portable kitchens and with benches attached are everywhere that I can see. So many portable restaurants, each throwing out an assortment of smells and sounds. People were throwing menus at us from every direction in the hope that we would choose to eat at their restaurant. We split into three groups at this point - veggie, fish and meat. Jon, Drew, Juliette and myself made up the meat group and Jon lead us to one particularly packed kitchen. This one was frequented solely by locals and queues formed alongside it. As soon as one patron had finished, another jumped in their place.

I was living in one of my worst nightmares - a huge crowd, all tightly packed in together. Jostling, shouting and all in rush. I could feel the panic rising in me as we waited. Every second the urge to escape grew stronger. it would have been easy just to walk away but I just about managed to keep my composure and then a gap opened up and we took our seats. Just as quickly as the panic came, it went. Pieces of paper served as place mats. A large bread bap in each place. A sauce similar to Moroccan salad was poured into flat metal saucers and then chilli sauce was mixed in. Jon made the order, a plate of small spicy sausages was placed before us. Tearing of chunks of bread, we wrapped the sausages and dipped into the sauce. They were very good indeed. Another dish was brought to us. Jon just called it chicken. Again it tasted excellent with the bread and chilli sauce. Asking Juliette if she was enjoying the meat and getting a positive reply, Jon then told us it was fried chicken livers. Juliette lost her appetite soon after to Drew’s benefit as he simply made a hole in his bap and poured the rest in making a large sandwich - good man.

We then met up with the others and it turns out that there had been a fight at the fish groups canteen. Apparently someone had taken umbrage at having a photograph taken and had reared up. Another man had tried to calm him down, but the two came to blows. The group then got caught in the middle of it all and had to escape through the kitchen. A couple of people were a little shaken by the experience, but no-one was hurt. By this time we all could have used a nice alcoholic beverage. Were to make our way to one of the posher hotels in the new town. Jon gave us the choice of a 10 minute walk, or catching a taxi. We chose the walk, which turned out to be longer then 10 minutes, but then a few of up did stop to take photos o the Minaret which was illuminated for the night. Crossing main roads in Marrakech is an adventure in itself. No one stops, they just speed around you. Someone compared it to a game of frogger. They were absolutely correct. We arrived at the hotel bar, but may as well have arrived at a different planet. This place was new, clean , modern and had an air of expense about it. A large staircase house musicians and the bar also played host to belly dancers. we sat out in the courtyard, much quieter and nicer in the cool night air. The cost of a single cocktail here was about the same as the ‘meat group’ had paid for all our meals combined. But after the hustle and bustle of the market it was great just to sink into a sofa with a mojito and chill out.

The following morning I headed out with Joan as we worked on our assignments. Joan was working on shooting reflections in mirrors and I was going to work on shooting from the hip again. Being with Joan gave me the perfect excuse to stand around in the busy streets. As she worked talking to shopkeepers and then photographing their wares, I could stand around looking as though I was just waiting for her, but in fact shooting discreetly. I did however get spotted by one man. He came over and demanded to see the photo I had just taken. Upon showing him he said that if I wanted to take his picture I should ask. Just one problem their - I wasn’t taking his picture. He just so happened to be in the shot, rather then me deliberately taking a shot of him. Another shopkeeper smoothed things over, saying that I could take whatever photos I liked and if the other guy didn’t like it then “he can eat the Sahara and go to hell”. Rather then provoke anything, I just put the camera away for until we moved on. Rather brilliantly the man that had taken offence then approached pretty much everyone he saw with a camera and asking if they wanted to take his photo. It was just his way of proving a point and I found it hysterical. He’d occasionally look over to me after posing and give me the thumbs up. I just had to laugh at the the wonderful absurdity of it all.

We worked for a few hours before returning to the riad. I’d pretty much decided that I would be presenting the cookery pictures and would just give a cursory look at the street photos I’d shot in the morning. Mike came and sat with me, looked and the pictures and then asked to look at the street photos. He then said that I’d easily got six photos in that morning that I could present and they’d have more impact because no-one else would have shared the experience, unlike the cooking. Whilst the cooking pictures were fine, it would be more adventurous to present the street shots. This then guaranteed me a stressful afternoon as I tried to prune down the images to just six. Still being completely new to the genre, I found it very difficult to determine what constituted a good shot. I made my selection and showed them to Mike who liked totally different shots to those I’d chosen. Eventually, handed the computer to Mike as he wanted to borrow it to edit some of the groups photos for the nights presentation. This meant that I’d no idea what shots of mine would be shown in the evening. Heading to the rooftop, I met up with the others that had found themselves in a similar situation. the normal revelry somewhat tempered by self inflicted stress and pressure.

Around 8pm we were invited to the rooftop where tables had been laid out for our final meal together. Glasses and jars of all shapes and sizes covered the surface; each containing a tea light. A projector had been placed in one of the windows and this was now projecting all our photos onto the opposite wall. We each grabbed a glass of champagne or wine and stood to view the images. It was facsenating to see the differing styles and how we had all came up with such varied themes. From portraits and documentary, to the slightly abstract. It was just a really good example of how we all see our surroundings differently. It was fantastic to see how much people had improved in just 10 days. From having never taken a camera off of its automatic settings to (in Drews case) spending a day with snake charmers and getting some great shots. We then sat down for dinner which was chicken served from an enormous tajine - well what else could it have been. Strangely the critique and judging that we had all been getting anxious about never occurred. Instead we ate our meal and proceeded to drink lots of wine. As time passed people left for their beds, but a few of us stayed on having the sort of conversation that only alcohol can provide. Many laughs were shared, a few eyebrows raised and maybe just a little bit of innocence shattered. All in all a most entertaining evening.

I’m really not quite sure how I’m feeling at the moment. Stunned could be accurate, overwhelmed also accurate. Excited, shocked, incredulous, scared, nervous and intrigued also fit the bill. I’m mentally and physically drained right now. It has been a long hard week of theory lessons, practice assignments, walking around an increasing strange and at times hostile town; confronting old demons and facing a whole new set of challenges. There have been good times of course - getting to know the group, having a good laugh with them in restaurants and getting some shots that are unlike anything that I’ve taken before.

The past week has been leading up to these next couple of days in Marrakech, and it really feels like things have stepped up an order of magnitude. Tomorrow we will be given our final assignments and will then have two days to shoot and present it. The final assignment is going to be unlike what we have shot before - it will need a narrative and the work is going to need to tick all the boxes - technically, composition, interesting and of course fitting the story of the presentation. I have a rough idea in my head that I need to discuss with Jon tomorrow. I have a few hours in the morning to flesh it out and see if it is working for me. The idea is a shoot based around the contrast of stillness and motion here in Morocco. The over-riding impression that I have of the country is contrasting calmness and mayhem. From the back ally with just a single person walking in it, to the incredible crush of the choke points where masses of people try to head for a tiny through point. The charming and friendly storekeeper that explodes with rage once he realises that you have no intention of buying anything; despite telling him this for the last 10 minutes. As I say, it needs to be fleshed out - but I think that the beginning of an idea is there.

Todays gruelling schedule began much earlier then usual. Our transfer to Marrakech necessitated an early start. Breakfast was had and we bid or farewells to Casa Lila and its owners Michelle and Frou Frou who had been the most gracious and welcoming hosts. We piled into the same minivan that brought us to to Essenoria and made our way to Marrakech. We stopped twice; first at a collective where they make and sell argonut oil. The highlight of this was to be the tree climbing goats that do as the name suggests - climb trees and collect the nuts. These then pass through the animals digestive tract and the pellets are then collected. The nut is then separated, cleaned and removed from its shell. The remaining nut is then ground by more woman using stone grinders. Astonishing quantities are needed to produce a single litre. The collected oil is then used for everything from cooking and beauty products. We did not see any goats whilst we were there, but we did see one tree full of them as we were driving along. What we did see at the collective is how much effort is needed to produce what has become a luxury product. There was one old lady there who had the kindest most characterful face, and another young woman who had a beautiful smile.

The second time that we stopped was for a drink at the café that we were meant to stop at on the first day - but had neglected to have any food to prepare. I was dreading getting back in the van at this point. It was very hot and stuffy and the poor conditions of the road made things uncomfortable. I tried to get my head down but couldn’t. In the end I wrote yesterdays entry on my iPhone, which was a challenge when the screen was bouncing around like it was on a rollercoster. I really couldn’t complain too much as it was far worse for Claudia who was still feeling ill and now had to endure the journey as well.

Just arriving in Marrakech you could sense that this was to be an entirely different proposition then anything that had come before. The streets were as busy as Essenoria, but these were the back streets. Where in Essenoria we had to contend with the occasional cyclist and chariot; here the roads were thinner, the foot traffic heavier and there are motor-scooters weaving in and out of every available space in a constant stream. Lose your wits for one second and you are likely to be hit by a speeding bike.

We checked into the new hotel - a pleasant enough place, but I feel it lacks the charm of Casa Vila. Maybe it will grow on me in the time I have left here. Shortly after checking in we made our way inside the walls of the medina and into the souk. There are people, market stalls and vehicles everywhere that the eyes see. from every direction people try to call you over to buy goods, others taking a more direct approach and following you offering their wears. Just a few minutes into the walk, I’d had a snake placed around my neck for a good 20 seconds as its owner tried to get me to pose for a photograph - which of course he would then sell to me at a huge price. The souk is overwhelming to the senses. The noise is all calls, commotion, airhorns and motors. The smell of two-stroke oil, waste water on the streets, fresh fruit and thousands of people in close proximity. The eyes see danger in all places - many of them offering goods for sale. Even in an alley just about wide enough for two people to walk though, there will be stalls on both sides; and yes - people will still try to bring those scooters through.

We walked around the entire parameter of the souk, which I did not find pleasant. My legs were tight and sore from the bus journey and my knee was beginning to become very sore. In many ways we were the walking wounded. Drew and Kirsten also have sore knees - a consequence of all the kneeling we do when taking shots. Juliette suffers from Shin Splints, so walking for her was painful. Claudia, who had missed lunch, had joined us and was putting a brave face on. We stopped at an old palace an explored the grounds. We stopped in one room and we all just found places to sit and rest. I think Jon realised that we were not our usual selves as we scratched the plan to visit a second palace and instead headed for a coffee bar.

The walk there was insanity. Children must have just finished school because all of a sudden we were surrounded by them. They ran, they pushed they laughed and pointed at the foreigners , or they fought amongst themselves. This happened the entire length of the road taking the mad levels of foot and bike traffic and raising it up to that insanity level.

After stopping for drinks, most of us retired back to the hotel - a welcome respite from the outside world. We ate tonight in a beautiful terrace restaurant that offered great views of the medina skyline. If they only sold alcohol it may have been perfect. Instead we had a single nightcap at another bar. We sat on the floor surrounded by cushions and get very comfortable.

I’ve now got a few hours to recharge and somehow find the nerve to throw myself back into the souk - only this time as a photographer with an assignment. I can’t imagine for one moment it is going to be particularly fun, but I once heard someone mutter something about suffering for art, lets see if they were right.

This proven to be one of the most testing days that I have ever had whilst travelling.

We started with a morning free of lessons, most people decided to do a bit of shopping. Juliette was propositioned by quite a few men in the street. The bluntness of their Approaches was quite unsettling for her and caused a little unrest. We saw her back at the hotel have g embarked on a little retail therapy and arriving back with a huge tajin!

My own shopping consisted of a crystal that is used as a deodorant and a small porcelain drum. I fear I may have got a small boy in trouble as he may have sold it too cheaply. I paid a little over ���1 and his opening habit would have been Around ���10. With haggling I'd have expected to pay around ���5. We made the deal and a man came out of the store asked me how much I pAid, shook my hand and then started berating the poor boy.

In the afternoon we headed to the port to try out documentary blank and White shots. I really enjoyed this style of photography and I'm very pleased with the images I produce. I think this could be my niche.

Unfortunately, the afternoon was somewhat soured. At the port I met a man named Hassan who would act as a guide for me. We went around the port between boats , etc. The guy seemed genuine enough and we bumped into Kirsten who was shooting as well. She had met Hassan previously and had no problems with him.

When it was time to leave he asked me for 'a little something for his family'. I was quite happy to give him a little money for acting as a guide. I put my hand in my pocket to get a 20Dr note. But when I did this Hassan grabbed my wrist and grabbed all the notes from my pocket. I had been to the bank earlier to get money for the night, so this was about ���50. He shoved the notes into his pocket and started to wAlk away. I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him against a wall. I put my hand into his pocket and grabbed all the cash I could feel. Unfortunately, this turned out to be about 400Dr (���40), meaning that he got away with ���10. In the long term that is nothing, but I was so annoyed. Amazingly he started to walk after me demanding money. I basically told him to fuck off. I can't imagine what his thought process was. I'm twice his size and a good foot and a half taller then him. How had he expected me to react? To laugh it off?

Jon and Mike said that I handled it well and at least I got most of the money back. They were apologetic and quite taken aback for the bad experience and it was the first time on one of their trips that something like this had happened. It was of course not their fault in any way at all. I think they've been brilliant with the organisation of the trip. There is no way that they could predict that this would be the day that someone decided to be an idiot. The fact is that there are always dangers whilst travelling, and sometimes bad things happen. In the short term I'm down a few quid, in the long term I have a story for the pub.

In the evening we had a Moroccan cooking lesson from a woman named Zora. We were taken into the Market to buy the ingredients for a chicken tajine. Veg was bought fresh and we also bought apricots and prunes.

We then went to get the chicken.

The more squeamish of the group stayed in the street as a few of us went into the small square where the animals are kept and slaughtered. We went to a small stand with hundreds of live chickens. Zora selected a couple and the butcher pulled them out.

First he broke the wings of each chicken to prevent it from struggling. Then he weighed them. Once satisfied he held the chicken upside down and slit their throats with a long knife. The chickens were then placed into funnels with collected to blood. Only the chickens legs were visible sticking out of the funnels. The legs and feet thrashed about for a surprisingly long time before they finally succumbed.

The butcher then removed the chickens from the funnels and placed them into what appeared to be a giant sander. This removed the feathers from the birds. He then took his knife and slit the birds lengthways removing their innards. Finally he chopped the birds into quarters, wrapped them and handed the now prepared birds to Zora.

The above may sound gruesome, but it was over in a matter of minutes. The killing of the birds took seconds. As a consumer of meat, I think that it is important to remember that they were once living creatures. Chicken, beef etc does not magically arrive in the cellophane wrApped packages we see in supermarkets. This was an ideal reminder.

We then went to Zora's school. We grated the veg and cooked them. The Prunes and apricots were prepared and stuffed with chopped almonds, peanuts , cinnamon And a little orange water. The chicken was placed int the huge earthenware tajin and put on a cooking fire inside the room. After a while the fruit was added. We also made samosa like triangles of Filofax pastry stuffed with veg, cheese and mashed potato.

After what seemed an eternity the food was ready and it was very good. Best tajine that I’ve had yet. Claudia was not feeling at all well by this point and had to head back to the hotel, whichwas a real shame as she and Juliette had made loads of the little samosas, but she never go to eat any! Afterwards those of us that weren’t after an early night headed to Taros for a few drinks before retiring at midnight.

I’m in the middle of a three hour drive to Marrakech, and writing this on my iPhone (hence the occasional crazy spelling). Marrakech is supposedly even more manic then Essenoria. God knows how I’ll react to the crowds when I arrive, but right now I just want to get out of this boiling hot van and have some cold water before I completely dehydrate!