Modernity comes slowly to Morocco, but come it does, inexorably. I was struck by the contrasts.

Proper Muslim women dress modestly, at least when they're in public. But sinful western culture is threatening Moroccan morals.

The clothing on the mannequins clearly is meant to be worn in the bedroom. But after days of seeing caftan-clad women, a glimpse of this store window is faintly shocking. Hard to imagine Moroccans wearing this kind of thing.

On the street, a woman in a red jelaba and yellow barboush talks to the driver of a modern car.

It's hot out, but I'm guessing she doesn't want to be immodest in public.

There's way more construction going on in Marrakech than in San Miguel de Allende or even in Querétaro. I saw at least 30 high-rises being built. Several, like these, were going up just inside the ancient Medina walls.

As with Mexicans, Moroccans aren't interested in in living in traditional homes. They want air-conditioned apartments with wall-to-wall carpets, and many will sell their riads to foreigners for the chance to live the way westerners do.

The sign below says something like "Hamza's Cellular City.

Hamza's sign has that wonderful homemade quality I've posted about from time to time. The cellphones depicted on it are the Moroccan four-button variety: you can dial any number in the world that contains digits one through four. The Royal Ministry of Telephones and Posts predicts the technology will be in place to process fives and sixes next year.

One of Hamza's customers talks to a merchant while smoking a lumpy hand-rolled cigarette.

This man was born when the French dominated the country. He's probably ridden camels, not for fun, but because that's what he had to do to go anywhere—pre-road, pre-automobile. He watched American and British troops march to the east, on their way to drive Irwin Rommel out of Libya. He may have participated in the liberation struggle that won Morocco its independence.

Given his childhood may have been spent herding goats, he doesn't seem to be having any trouble adapting to wireless telecommunication. "Aziz! Aziz! You thief! You're taking the bread out of my children's mouths. OK. My last price is Dh 5500. Not one dirham more! You hear me Aziz?"