The colour of Morocco is gold. Gold in the desert sands, deep gorges and in shrub-strewn foothills. Gold in the hair of camels and the worn faces of old Berber women, in the noble bearing of their men. Gold is in the Sahara, in the walls of the medina and the pisé kasbah towers. You will find it in endless meadows of wild marigolds, and avenues of mimosa and the massed glow of brass lamps in a crowded bazaar, in the square campanile-like minarets and towers, the proud cat of the Saadian tombs and the brown pariah dogs that howl all night in Fes.

Gold is the colour of an old synagogue in Marrakesh, whose worshippers have long since departed; of the seventeenth century stables in Meknes that were once alive to the sound of 12000 horses; of the sunset glow on the walls of the Oudaia Kasbah in Rabat. Gold pervades the brass workshops of the medina and ancient city gateways.

Here are a few golden moments from my tour in March this year.