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My performances at the plaza and sook in Agadir and the Saturday camel market in Goulimine went well. The people behaved and there was much spontaneous applause. I had to adapt to the timeless Moroccan pace, but it was nice not to have the feeling (as I've had busking in Europe) that you have to come out all ballyhoo and flash and sock it to 'em or they'll all just peter away at the drop of a club.

I discovered another thing about busking in Morocco. You don't just say, "Okay, I'm finished," and disappear. The audience was as interested in watching me put props away as in watching the show. I had to almost fight my way out of the circle and go hide. The two or three dollars worth of Dirhams that I collected for my Moroccan shows was a respectable amount by local standards and adequate to pay my hotel and food for the day. As always, it's nice to feel your pockets full of change again, if that's what you're used to.

In the Plaza Jemma el Fna in Marrakesh I did a few shows and later found myself adopted and managed by a local acrobatic troupe. I decided to play along. They beat their drums hypnotically, endlessly hyped up the audience, and finally let me juggle. Then there were more speeches and exhortations as I walked around the circle collecting money in a drum. The troupe's leader stuck by my side saying, "Come on, help this poor boy out, look at him, the poor fellow..." We walked round and round milking coins from these poor scrappy folk.

I fully expected them to keep the money themselves and at the most invite me for a cup of that awful sugary mint tea. But much to my surprise and to their credit, they gave it all to me after working so hard themselves to collect it. I split the take with them.

It's a hard life for the people in Morocco. They break their necks working for a few Dirham. But it's nice to see that, as always, hard-working buskers are getting by, and often having a good time!

ITALY - by Marcus Mandal

A man stood behind me for a long time as I sat on the ground packing up my props. Suddenly I noticed his well-polished black boots, khaki trousers and belt with a pistol in the holster.

The Italian carabiniere asked me what I was doing. Trying to think fast, I gave him a quick juggling lesson. By the time I offered him a ride on the unicycle several hundred people had gathered around us laughing and applauding. Vastly outnumbered, the poor policeman stole away and left me to my show.

In fact, I'm a journalist, but the audience didn't care. After spending several years occasionally throwing strange objects in the air in Denmark, I thought the time was right to try it internationally. I hitchhiked 2,000 kilometers from Copenhagen to the Italian coast in about 24 hours for a street performing vacation.

Every night as darkness fell I stationed myself under a powerful streetIamp on one of the broad seaside promenades. I did three or four shows a night, remembering that when children laugh, mothers applaud and fathers pay! The tourists were swarming into the cool evening for walks after eating the last pasta of the day. They strolled back and forth, looking at fancy clothes in shops or eating ice cream at the cafes under the palms.

Northern Europeans tend to cross their arms and stare at street performers, but these vacationing Italians were an easy-going, appreciative audience. And almost no one left when I began to pass the hat.

My little show did not pretend to be art, so I almost choked as I counted my take in a cheap hotel room that first night. Coins and bills were lying all over the bed. I collected them in heaps of 10,000 lira each, and finished with 15 piles. That's almost $150 for one hour's performance!

I met with great kindness at each stop on my coastal tour with two exceptions policemen and bank clerks. In one city my show was halted because of a big festival occurring at the same time. The audience made a big fuss when the policeman interrupted my performance, but I couldn't communicate well with him. He showed me his orders and left, telling me I'd end up in jail if he caught me again. A little girl ran after him clinging to his pant legs and pleading for a reverse ruling. Some older girls went directly to the police headquarters to complain about my treatment.

The rest of the audience stood around as if nothing had happened. One fellow suggested we all walk down to the harbor, where the police wouldn't come. Immediately the crowd began to move, but I had to pack up my music box and loudspeakers. They were waiting for me when I finally arrived, and three shows later I had collected more than 250,000 lira!

The shows were simply what I could do, but I guess I must have done It well. I used the music to accompany my juggling and let people know a show was in progress. I juggled up to four balls, and always tried five though I'm not good at it. The audience enjoyed hearing me apologize profusely in Danish when I dropped. There was a little magic, and I did three clubs on a unicycle. I also ate an apple while juggling it, a ball and a knife.

I think the main reason for my success was eye contact with the audience and the ability to adapt my program to audience response.