The bad news? I'm a 40-year-old woman from Winnipeg who has just landed in a Muslim country only to learn the airline has lost my luggage. All of my luggage.

The good news? The Muslim country I've landed in is Morocco, a land of contrasts where mothers clothed in traditional jellabas - a full-length, body- covering garment - shop side-by-side with their teenage daughters dressed not much differently from my own.

My worries about being able to find something to wear proved just as unfounded as were my preconceptions of what it would be like travelling as a woman through a Muslim country.

The people were welcoming and the hospitality unequalled in this nation that seems to forever jostle between competing influences.

The modernity of the nation's many five-star hotels slams up against a land where history is measured in thousand-year blocks. The nation's predominantly Muslim population lives side-by-side with its smaller Christian and Jewish populations. European influences from Spain - just across the Strait of Gibraltar - nicely weave with African roots.

Oh, and then there's the visually jolting contrast of a goat grazing by the side of a highway - in a tree. The goat, that is. But more on that later.

Some contrasts are expected, others not.

The facade of our 21-room hotel, the Sultanta, located in the centre of Marrakesh's medina (the oldest parts of the city, encircled by walls), was plain. But once inside, we were surrounded by an opulent display of carved plaster and cedar, and intricate mosaics.

All exteriors in Morocco, it turns out, are plain, hiding the wealth within to give no indication to previous generations of invaders what they may contain.

Shopping at the souks (street markets) within the medina walls brought a different experience. At times sellers can be aggressive when trying to entice you into the store. Bargaining being the only way in the souks, take care where you enter, as it can be considered an opening you might not want to follow up on.

Bargaining is a form of entertainment, rooted in the past when there were no outside diversions other than the customers who happened upon your shop. A relationship is expected to develop, and though at times it may seem an arduous process - and at times a losing proposition - it can also result in smug satisfaction when a hard-fought deal results in a hug and kisses at the end of the negotiations.

And then there are those goats. Just outside Essaouira is a forest of trees from which argan nuts are collected to make the traditional Berber oil, used commonly here for salad dressings. Legend has it the best way to harvest the nuts is to have goats collect them - from up high in the trees.

It sounded too weird to be true, until our car rounded a bend and, sure enough, there were three goats in a tree by the roadside. The van was brought to a quick halt and we rushed to take pictures - until another vehicle stopped. The herdsmen, who had been requesting dinars, at this point violently yanked the goats out of the tree and took off through the meadow.

So was it all just a photo op, orchestrated to separate tourists from their dinars? I'm still not sure. Quite a sight, though.

By the roadside are several collectives owned, operated and staffed by Berber women, who are willing to explain the labour-intensive processes involved in making argan oil. They'll sell you a bottle of culinary grade oil - delicious on salads or mopped up with a chunk of fresh bread - or you can pick up cosmetics made from the leftover paste once the oil is extracted.

Essaouira itself has a welcoming, laid-back surfing vibe shared by beach towns the world over. A picturesque harbour is packed with fishing boats, white buildings are trimmed in a bright blue, the refreshing salt air blows in off the ocean and there are camels lounging on the sand waiting to take tourists for a ride.

In Rabat, the current capital of the Kingdom of Morocco, lies the final resting place of Morocco's beloved King Mohammed V, who successfully negotiated independence from France in 1956 (and grandfather to the current King Mohammed VI).

Inside the mausoleum, one's world shrinks to the sound of a single, haunting voice of a lone man reciting prayers from the Qur'an, rising from below to echo through the chamber.

And then there's Fes, where the past and present live side-by-side, with sweet-faced donkeys patiently waiting alongside cars packed into parking lots. Donkeys are used to transport goods inside the oldest parts of the medinas where alleyways are too narrow for vehicles.

Fes's winding alleyways lead to some of the best places in Morocco to watch artisans such as woodworkers, weavers, metalworkers, bakers and tailors in their own shops. The pottery quarter, now located outside the medina, is also well worth a visit to gain a greater appreciation of mosaics.

Every twist and turn in any souk brings a different aromatic experience, from the sweet scent of fresh ground spices to the reek of fish being sold in nearby carts. But never is the smell more overwhelming than when nearing Fes's tannery section.

It's worth getting past the stench (sprigs of mint are helpfully handed out) to take a fascinating step back in time to watch animal skins being tanned. The leather, manipulated by men with their feet in large outdoor pots, goes through several washes, including quick lime, pigeon droppings, turmeric and natural dyes.

Meknes, 60 kilometres west of Fes, was the 17th-century headquarters of the Sultan Moulay Ismail, who united the country for the first time in five centuries. Contrasting with the 40-kilometre-long wall built as part of a defensive fortress are the 25 beautiful gates for which the city is known.

Inside the walls, Ismail made provisions to be able to withstand a long siege - including the Royal Granaries, an amazing engineering feat with a water reservoir below, which helps stabilize the temperature, meaning grain can be stored for decades.