Hailing a female taxi driver in Morocco is as likely as bagging a bargain in one of Marrakech’s souks.

But the North African country is changing.

On passing a cabbie in a hijab en route to our hotel in the city’s northern palmery (a luxury new-build called Mosaic Palais Aziza doing a fine job cornering the R&R market), our driver pointed her out like a tourist attraction.

A few minutes later, when he saw women security guards at our modern hotel, he nearly ran off the road.

“Whatever next,” he joked. “I’ll have to learn to cook.”

The reason is King Mohammed VI, who acceded to the throne in 1999. In reforms delivered to parliament in 2011, he guaranteed women “civic and social” equality with men. He has rejected the Arab tradition of polygamy and has only one wife and two children.

Everyone you meet in Morocco gives the man a good reference, especially in Marrakech, which is now the country’s most visited destination.

“The city has been rejuvenated since he came to power,” a man serving sugary mint tea in a café in Rue De La Kasbah told me, as the sun fell behind the glorious red stone and sea green-tiled minaret of the Kasbah Mosque, which reaches skywards out of cramped, narrow alleyways in the old city, the Medina.

But, as with everything here – the souks, the restaurants, the tour guides – there’s always horse-trading taking place in the background and no price or deal is ever as it seems.

Despite further reforms by the king to permit all citizens “free thought, ideas, artistic expression and creation”, criticise or oppose him and you could find yourself in the clink.

It makes for dull reading in national dailies and leaves unanswered questions about a nation whose leaders managed to quell the threat of revolution and Arab Spring.

“We are a united country,” a toothless tribesman trader selling tagine pots explained.

That there is a Jewish quarter and a Catholic church and Europeans and Berbers living beside a predominantly Arab population is another reason Marrakechies declare their home harmonious.

It is certainly a magical city of colour and noise and battling hawkers (best dealt with by a firm “non, merci”). The Red City (the red ochre pigment casts a desert-hue over the entire place) can be explored in a long weekend, but it’s worth staying longer to take a day trip or two.

In little more than an hour you can be walking the lower slopes of the snow-capped haut range of the Atlas Mountains, having passed through stunning Berber villages carved from the landscape and perched on mountain sides, through the surprisingly green Ourika Valley, which all combine to make the horizon from Marrakech look like lasagne.

Other options are to go east to take a dip below the waterfall spray at Cascades d’Ouzoud or, if you’re feeling energetic, a journey up the coast to blowy windsurfers’ haven Essaouira.

At the centre of Marrakech is the energetic human circus novelist Paul Bowles said distinguished it from other Moroccan cities.

If the Arab Spring had caught fire it would have exploded in Jemaa el-Fnaa square. After rioting following independence from France in 1956, the Moroccan authorities tried to turn it into a car park. A year later the snake charmers and performers returned. There’s a giant screen showing open-air movies as part of the 13th Marrakech Film Festival when I visit. The glitzy event reflects the city’s growing position as a culture capital. Jury head for 2013 is Martin Scorcese (though King Mohammed VI’s face graces more publicity) who picked Han Gong-Ju by South Korean director Lee Su-Jin for the gold star award.

By day the square has women in burkas with shades painting henna tattoos and performing card tricks. There are men in traditional dress selling photo opps. As tiresome, not to mention cruel, are monkeys on chains wearing nappies.

Later, however, the place throngs with Arab storytellers, jugglers, pipe musicians and at the northern end has banks of benches and food stalls. We huddled next to a couple from Casablanca and other Moroccans at number 98. The chefs brought diced, oil-soaked aubergines, fresh fried fish and roasted peppers on tapas-sized plates for 32dirham (about £2.50).

Earlier that day we’d tackled the never-ending maze of souks through the northern Medina. “Cheaper than Primark,” one fellow grinned as we walked through Rahba Kedima, a square where giant rugs hang off balconies in the bright sun and wooden toy camels are offered beside real lizards and tortoises.

We dived into a side street for skewered meat brouchette, 20dh (£1.50), with tomato and onion and bread, and got lost, as all do, for this is a city without signs.

Enough remains of the ruined El Badi, built by Ahmed “The Victorious” with a ransom from the Portuguese after he annihilated their army, to warrant a visit.

When the French arrived they took one look at the Medina and screamed “bof”. We hired a horse and cart for an open-air canter around La Nouvelle Ville, which locals call European because of its fixed prices and formal planning. Neighbouring Hiverage is a garden suburb loved by wealthy Westerners for winter retreats but deserted between May and October.

If the Koutoubia Minaret and its surrounding gardens of lemon trees and elegant benches under palm trees offer some respite from the old city, then the Majorelle Gardens in La Nouvelle Ville are the place to escape that quarter’s ubiquitous chains.

Created by French painter Jacques Majorelle in the 1920s and made popular by former owner Yves Saint Laurent, its Klein blue pavilion, multi-coloured bourgainvillea and crystal-blue lily pools make for a busy, beautiful and achingly photogenic hideaway.

  • Rooms at the Riad Jonan, with its dual courtyards, large roof terraces, exclusive hamman bath and colourful furnishings start at £50. Visit www.riadjonan.com
  • The spectacular palmery setting, luscious pools and sophisticated design make Mosaic Palais Aziza ideal for longer, laid-back stays. Visit www.mosaicpalaisaziza.com
  • Easyjet now flies twice daily from London Gatwick to Marrakech from £31.49. Visit www.easyjet.com