I’ve now been back for a day and I’ve not yet had time to stop and contemplate what the last 10 days have meant to me.

I do know that I’m missing the camaraderie; breakfast seemed very quiet this morning without 12 other people chatting and looking forward to the day ahead. Like many of my trips I’ve come back with a great deal to think about. This one perhaps more then any other. I’d not quite realised just how much I’d slipped back into the Guernsey Rut since returning from my trip to the States; but that is what I had done.

I’ve got some big decisions to make. I’ve faced the same questions before and I always say that I’ll do it later, or that I’ll investigate further - then nothing ever comes of it. I can’t keep doing that, and I think that I’m going to have to get my friends to push me on this, to keep it at the forefront of my mind. I know what I want, and in many regards, need to do. Now I just have to do it.

I’ve some time before the next big adventure. That will occur in September when I head to Kenya on Safari; realising a lifetime ambition in the process. I’ll of course hope to get away for the occasional weekend before that but as money becomes tighter then my options become limited in that regard. What I’ll have to do is try to rekindle the feeling that I get when I travel whilst I am here at home. In many regards that could be the greatest adventure yet.

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!

I woke this morning feeling very dehydrated. It is amazing just how much having a two beers with a meal instead of just the one can dehydrate you. A litre of water and one breakfast later and I was beginning to feel human again. We then sat down to review the book covers that we had shot the previous day. It was during this that I realised that my taste in photos seems to differ quite significantly from everyone else’s. Of the images selected as favourites, I had written in my notes that I thought they were very pretty, but not doing much for me. This wasn’t to say they weren’t good images, but that I did not feel they fitted the extract of the book that I had read. When it comes down to it, whether we like something or not is purely down to personal taste. My taste seems to differ from the group.

I will say this on the subject of personal preference: Jon showed us the covers of the previously released editions of the novel and I vastly preferred any single image that was taken yesterday to any of the previous ‘official’ shots.

We then sat down to talk about composition and genres. For me this is going to be the real meat of the course. I want to improve my composition whilst on site and not be relying on cropping in post production so much. I also what to find which genre suits me best, so that I can begin to develop my skills in that area. Jon then talked though the rules of composition, explaining how something as simple as the way a face is turned can have a major impact on the emotional feel of a shot. This is a new concept to me and it is something else that I will have to start considering when shooting.

For lunch we made or way to the main square for a seafood lunch. Despite being an island boy and having plenty of fishermen in family and having been a fishmonger myself, I have to confess that I am not a seafood person. Plates of sardines, whitefish and prawns were brought out. Then they moved onto the ugly stuff. Sea anemones which were to be scooped out and eaten. Then something resembling my worst childhood nightmares was brought out. It had the look of a lobster with its front claws and tail removed. Completely armour plated, I expect to see it in a sci-fi movie attacking Arnold Schwarzenegger, not here on my dinner plate. Despite my eyes telling my stomach to dive for cover, I tucked in with everyone else. After all when in Rome..... I can’t say it was my favourite meal, and I won’t be rushing back for seconds, but as a one time thing I was interesting.

Afterward we went into the main square to start learning about how we can influence the light around it. Using rudimentary reflectors made from gold and silver wrapping paper, and a couple of Mikes t-shirts, we looked how we can bounce light to fill in shadows, or add colour depending on the colour of the reflector. At one point Jon was stood against a wall, shades on and this sliver reflector throwing this great dappled light on him. It had kind of a rock star vibe. Combined with all the cameras pointing at him this must have been the impression that we gave because one of the locals came to ask if Jon was famous.

We split into groups and each took turns at shooting, posing and holding the reflectors. I had a lot of fun shooting and doing portraits. I’ve a feeling that shooting people is going to be the road I end up going down. This makes it even more important that I break through that confidence barrier and start approaching and talking to strangers, and getting them to allow me to photograph them. I think this is going to prove more difficult for me then anything technical that we have done so far.

In the evening a group of us went to a bar named Taros to watch the sunset. This is where a couple of us had gone on the first night. After a beautiful sunset we went for a meal at a restaurant called after 5. I spent the night chattering away to Christ and Claudia about art and the course. It was good fun and I wish I could do this more back home.

Tomorrow is a free morning, then we will go out to shoot black and white images - something I’m really looking forward to. Then later in the afternoon, we apparently have a surprise.

Lessons this morning consisted of critiquing our shots from the previous days exercise. The shots were quite varied broaching quite an array of subject. My shots were not savaged quite as much as I expected. I submitted three shots. One of some carved animals in a shop window.

A man passing through one of the gates to the medina.

A ‘safe’ shot of boats in the fishing harbour with a keep in the background. This shot I was not particularly happy with, but though it suited the brief more then some of the shots that I do like.

We were then handed the next brief - to shoot a cover of a book set in Morocco named the Spider’s House. We were given an extract of the book to read and then to think of an angle and the kind of shots that we wanted to get. My immediate impression was that the subject of the book was isolated and feeling quite desperate. He wanted to run away and I wanted to reflect that. I had two concepts in mind - one to have a person walking through through light - momentarily leaving his dark life and into the light. The second was to take shots from an elevated position, with the intention of trying to isolated a person in a crowd. Jon suggested that I try and find someone standing on their own and using a slower shutter speed to create some motion blur around the subject further deepening that sense of isolation.

I went out in to the Mediana with Laura, just walking around trying to find location to shoot our ideas. I eventually found an arch that came close to what I was envisioning. I placed some rose petals on the floor and waited for the right person to come along. This took far longer then expected. People walked in groups, or were French tourists or simply did not come down the street at all. Eventually a man came down that was perfect - he had the exact dress and look that I wanted. But he spotted the camera and deliberately walked out of the shot. Gutted. I did get a shot similar to that which I planned, and was pretty pleased with it. I was to have my first 1-on-1 session later with Jon so I headed back to the hotel for that. We talked about my style of shooting, and what style he saw me shooting in. What he suggested came as a bit of a surprise as its not a genre that I’ve done much of.

The biggest obstacle that I have is simply approaching people in the street. I don’t yet have the confidence to just approach someone, talk to them and then take pictures. I have resolved that I will do this at least once before the end of the week.

After my session with Jon, I went to the roof of the hotel to try and shoot my second idea. This was not so successful. I could not get a decent angle into the street. It was an interesting excerise from a technical point of view, but not suited to the brief. I’d like to try and get the shot again, if I can find the right location. The problem is finding somewhere that I can get the elevation.

We ended the day heading off to a restaurant called Scirocco. I and a few other ordered couscous. When the portions came they were laughably large. Bigger then most of the portions that I had in America and they were huge! No one even came close to eating a quarter of the food available - let alone a plate. We could easily have ordered just two dishes and fed all of us. I felt sorry for Claudia. Jon had told us that the restaurant served an excellent chocolate cake. She skipped a starter so that she could have one, but after the main just couldn’t face it. Jon ordered a single slice and eleven spoons. The plate being passed amongst us so that we each got a bite.

After a breakfast of croissants & pancakes, we settled down for the mornings lesson. First call of order was a discussion about the different types of lenses and their uses. We performed an exercise of shooting passport style shots with three different types lenses. The purpose was to show that different lenses are suited to different jobs. A point well illustrated by some comically distorted images taken with the wide angle lenses.

We were then given our first assignment. We have been commissioned to produce three images for Conde Nast Traveller magazine. We were to go out and photograph still life images and present these to be critiqued the next day. Jon & Mike would be looking for islamic architecture and recurring motifs and the results also judged on uniqueness and how well they fitted the brief.

I wasn’t really sure what sort of images would appear in Conde Nast as it not a magazine that I am familiar with. There fore my focus was in images of textiles and patterns appearing in walls. Essaouira has a seemingly limitless number of doors with character. All weather beaten, cracked and featuring rusting door handles. I decided that I would try and capture a few of these. I started off by heading down some of the back alleys and immediately felt uncomfortable. Every time that I tried to take a picture a shopkeeper would appear and block the image. Often I would be shouted at and verbally chased away. In other allies I distinguish the occasional word in French and determine that I was being insulted. Not the greatest encouragement for someone that already has fears of crowds and public places.

Getting nowhere I headed out of the alleys and into more familiar ground. Here I met much of the same problems. Part of this was due to my own difficulties with the camera. I have effectively had to relearn how to expose an image. Previously I would shoot images on aperture priority mode. I would set the aperture depending on the depth of field that I wanted to achieve. The camera would then decide the shutter speed. If I disagreed with it, then I would dial in exposure compensation until it was wanted. Having done this for years, I could do this quickly and easily. Now, I (and the rest of the group) are shooting in completely manual mode. I don’t have a problem in doing this technically, but I am just nowhere near the speed that I was previously. In some ways this is good as it slows down the entire process, thus forcing me to think more about the shot in hand. However, as I’ve been shooting all kinds of subjects the camera has not often been anywhere near the settings that I need it to be locked into. By the time that I have dialled in, the subject has either noticed me or a shopkeeper has come to chase me away. Speaking to Mike about the issue, he told me that with experience I will gain a good idea of what I will need before I meter the subject. This will allow me to hang back from my real subject and have the camera in a good base position by the time I come to compose. Then I can quickly adjust as needs be.

To be honest I was having a pretty miserable time of it and starting to wish that I was anywhere but here. I bumped into Claudia, another of the group members. She told me that she was feeling pretty miserable as well as she had been having many of the same difficulties with the shopkeepers. We decided to team up for the rest of the day. Just having someone with me felt instantly better. We headed away from the main streets and into the alleys to the West of the medina. We generally concentrated on door and and reliefs carved into the wall. Just walking around and stopping occasionally as one of had seen something to shoot. On the occasions Claudia stopped, I tried to see what she was photographing. Sometimes this was easy, a door handle for example. Other times I could not tell at all. One of the most interesting things I’ve noticed is how we all see things so differently. Something that jumped out for her, is something that I would have walked past, and vies-versa.

I was in one of these alleys that we met Mohad. We were photographing a particularly rustic door when a young man approached us and asked what we were taking pictures of. Mohad spoke a little English and a lot of French. Claudia is Swiss and the two of them engaged in conversation which I could very occasionally follow as I picked up the odd word here and there. Claudia would stop and translate anything on which I was looking particularly lost. My french has never been great and I haven’t been recently I am hopelessly out of touch. I can discern words and then place into some sort of context, but find myself unable to reply as I cannot remember the phasing quickly enough. Mohad invited us into his home which was the one that we had been bracing ourselves against hen he arrived.

Entering the building the air cooled considerably. The house was cool, but not too cold - for me at least. Ushering us through to his living room / bedroom he cleared a space for us on his couch. The décor reminded me of every bachelor pad I’ve ever seen. A few cans sprinkled around, a couple of unwashed cups and a little litter. He cleaned quickly and in that embarrassed fashion that I have performed myself many times when an unexpected guest arrived. The room itself was fairly small, with only a single window to let in the light. This was covered with a carpet so very little light arrived in the room. Mohad put on some music. A kind of trance with Moroccan undertones. He then told us that he had made it himself and that he was a musician. He mixes and creates tracks on his computer, also playing bass and drums on his tracks. He occasionally sells CD’s at a store in the medina called the Africa Shop. He would sell more but the CD’s are expensive to produce. The album was called Dream House and I’m going to find the store and see if they have any copies.

Mohad offered us mint tea. I’ve not drank tea or coffee in about 8 years, but I thought that it would be very rude to decline so happily accepted it. It was very sweet and sugary, not at all how I remembered tea being. It was not unpleasant though, and I had a second glass when offered. We stayed for quite a while, just talking about where we came from and Mohads music. After all the annoyance and rudeness that we had felt all day, it was if Essaouira had conjured up Mohad to let us know that this can be a very friendly and welcoming place. We took some photos of Mohad and made our way down to the port to catch the sunset.

As far as the assignment went, don’t feel that I really captured what it called for. I played safe with my interpretation, but did get a few shots that I like that fall out the remit of the assignment. But getting to know someone else from the group better, meeting Mohad and finally shaking off that ring rust meant that it was a sucessful day in my eyes. In the eyes of the critics though....?

In the evening we went to a very nice restaurant called Patio and had a very nice meal. Then nearly everyone went for a drink at a very posh hotel near our. Everyone was so releaxed and I had a great time laughing and joking with them all. I certainly feel a lot more connected with everyone then when I began the day.

Morocco Day one.

I’m currently sitting in one of the more beautiful places that I have stayed. Soft music is playing, candles are lit everywhere and the entire place is toned to Arabian Nights perfection. This is my base for the next few days in Essaouira.

Just a few feet away is a bustling street. Vendors and stalls pack both sides. The air is alive with the sounds of traders and patrons going about their business. If you did not know where to look, you would it entirely. Right now being here is completely relaxing and exactly what is needed after a hectic day.

I did not need to worry about sleeping through my alarm as I simply could not sleep. The pillows that the Yotel provided looked to be fluffy and thick. Yet this proved to be mealy an illusion. The second that I lay my head down, they immediately went flat as a pancake. The only use that I could find for them were to keep my ears warm as they wrapped themselves around my head. Eventually, after various folding, shaping and squeezing of the stuffing I managed to get comfortable. Then I moved slightly and my head was flat against the mattress. In desperation I folded my wafer thin duvet into something approximating a pillow and tried to sleep on that. I think I managed to slip into sleep a couple of times, but for no more then a half or or so. All too soon the time ticked around to 5am and it was time to head to the terminal; sleep deprived and with a stomach doing flips due to the nervousness that now seems customary when I travel.

Checking in and getting through security was a breeze. Even though the lines were packed even at this god forsaken hour of the morning. The plane ride was pleasant and uneventful. Occasionally the cloud cover broke long enough to get a glimpse at the land beneath. One of these occasions was when we were passing over the Pyrenees and I was treated to a magnificent view of the snow capped peaks. Although I would have been unable to recognise it from the air; I knew that one of those peaks would be the Col du Tormelet - which I visited the last time that I was in France. I looked just as spectacular from the air as I remember it from the ground.

Landing at Marrakech, I met up with the rest of the party that are here for the retreat. My initial apprehension seems to have been assuaged as everyone seems very nice, friendly and chatty. The impression is that everyone is looking forward to the experience to come.

We jumped into a minibus to begin our three hour journey to Essaouira. We will be returning to Marrakech later in the week, but before that we will have plenty to do and explore.

The roads here reminded me of Turkey, in fact the similarity is striking. The major difference being that driver do not appear to have deathwishes. In just a few short miles, I had seen enough oddities to satisfy a million e-mail forwards. Small mopeds with multiple passengers and overloaded with luggage. Tractors with huge bags of grain tied to any available surface and a another tucked under the drivers arm! On the geeky yet slightly non-PC side of things I keep seeing Star Wars everywhere. I know that it was filmed here, and that must of influenced George Lucas to some extent, but I did not realise in what way until now. I keep seeing Jawas everywhere. More precisely, I keep seeing their costume. Shepherds and other workers lining the roads wear it. I must be some sort of national dress, I will have to find out more.

We stopped for lunch, eating in a marquee with a colour scheme that reminded me of a circus. The food was good, even if we were besieged by cats begging for our scraps. Animals are everywhere here. Horses and donkeys pull carts. All manner of grazing animals can be seen alongside the road. In the towns and villages cats and dogs roam free. I even saw a camel being ridden though one town.

Our final destination is a fortified town next to the sea. My initial reaction was that it reminded me strongly of St Marlo. Having wondered for a while, I like it immediately. I can’t wait for tomorrow so that I can see it properly and begin our photography lessons. I’m hoping to get a lot out of this and to rekindle a creative spark that has gone out in the last few months, plus I’ll get to see the town in more detail.

The hotel is amazing, French colonial, thick granite walls and an internal square open to the elements where we will eat communally. Carpets and silks hang from the walls. Rose petals are scattered with abandon. My riad is a tasteful lime green affair. A large brass bed is complemented by sofas and more then enough pillows to keep even me happy. It is a big change from my usual travel accommodation. I could get used to such luxury!

I only took a couple of photos today. The Real work in that department begins tomorrow.

So a couple of weeks ago I was in London watching Fulham in the League. Now I’m in London again watching Fulham in the Europa League. Only this time I’m in a hotel in Gatwick Airport waiting to catch a flight to Marrakech.

This is the 2nd time I’ve stayed at the Yotel; the first when I returned from Turkey a couple of years ago. My fight out is at stupid o’clock in the morning which has resulted in my need to fly out the night before. Facing a choice of a night in the departure lounge or an airport hotel for the evening it was quite a simple choice.

I’m actually terrified of missing my flight. I’ve a horrible feeling that I’ll do something stupid like roll over and go back to sleep when the time comes. Staying up is out of the question as it is all go once I get to Morocco. I’ve set three alarms on my iPhone and I’ll set another on the computer. Chances are I’ll be wide awake having been unable to sleep anyway - ironically through fear of not waking up!

So what I’m doing in Morocco is participating in a photography retreat run by Creative Escapes. Hopefully I’ll learn a lot whilst I’m out there and get some really great shots. I’ve lot a bit of interest in photography recently. After having such varied environments in the USA, shooting in Guernsey has just not been the same. So hopefully this should rekindle those fires.

I’m taking my G10 with me, the camera that I took across to America. This time though it is my backup camera. My camera of choice is the Panasonic GF1, together with three lenses a 20mm prime, a 14-45mm and a 45-200mm. It will be interesting to see how it fits in with he course. The course itself recommends bringing an SLR. The GF1 is a micro four thirds camera. In terms of usage they will be identical. But my camera and lenses is a far more compact package - which is nice when walking around.

I’ll be writing about the experience when I get the chance. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get a wireless connection, so updates may not be regular.

Next stop Morocco!

So the day has finally ticked around. Just a few more hours at work before flying to Gatwick before going onto Morocco.

Very excited as you may imagine. I'll be writing and taking photos as usual. I've no idea if I'll have internet access at all, so updates may have to wait until after I return. I hope not though!