What is Jemaa el-Fna like at night?

Jemaa el-Fna at night is the single most theatrical thing in Morocco, and I never get tired of bringing guests for their first sunset there. By day the square is fairly ordinary; then, as the light drops, dozens of food stalls roll in, set up trestle tables, light their grills, and the whole space fills with smoke, steam and the smell of charcoal, cumin and grilled lamb. Within an hour it is a heaving open-air restaurant under string lights.

Around the food, the performers gather. You'll find halqa circles of people watching Gnawa troupes drumming, snake charmers with their pipes, henna artists, acrobats from the Tazeroualt tradition, fortune tellers, and the famous storytellers who keep the oral tradition alive, which is exactly why UNESCO recognised the square as a Masterpiece of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. It is genuinely a living culture, not a staged display.

For eating, I steer guests toward the busy stalls where locals queue, point at what you want, and watch them cook it: brochettes, merguez, grilled vegetables, harira soup, and for the brave, the snail-soup carts and steamed sheep's head. Finish at an orange-juice stand and a sweets cart. Then I send people up to one of the cafe rooftops ringing the square for a mint tea and the unbeatable view down over the whole glittering, smoking spectacle.

Two honest notes. It is intense, crowded and full of hustle: performers and stalls expect a few dirhams if you photograph or watch, so carry small change and a sense of humour. Keep your bag zipped and in front of you. And go with the flow rather than trying to control it, because the magic of the square is precisely its joyful, slightly overwhelming chaos.