10 Must Dos When Going Solo To a Caribbean Resort

10 Must Dos When Going Solo To a Caribbean Resort

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1) LET YOURSELF GO…

Long before Pinterest prodded us to create virtual vision boards, Instagram insisted we share in-the-moment bliss, and Facebook fostered travel posts of happy places far, far away, I cut out and saved a magazine photo of a couple walking in the surf of the Caribbean Sea. I was single again, sad, but looked forward to a day I’d be that girl, her cocktail dress blowing in the breeze, as she laughed and leaned into her guy’s shoulder, one arm wrapped around his, the other hand holding a champagne flute.   I longed to share such a celebratory moment in paradise… one day (sigh)… with The One who was meant to be—whoever, wherever he was.

Though I still wait in hope to meet him, I have learned to cherish the many people with whom THE One, God, has blessed my life. And over the last twenty years, I stopped waiting to be in a romantic relationship to see the world or show it to my children. Money I have spent on traveling with my family, friends, and students strengthened relationships, made priceless memories, and taught us all something.  Likewise, I’ve learned to appreciate solo travel which has given me confidence, courage, and peace I never thought possible. A mentor told me years ago that giving ourselves what we need models self-care to our children and is healthier than waiting for someone else to fulfill us.   Travel rejuvenates and like a class taken to improve mind, body, or spirit, it’s  an investment in personal growth which positively impacts us and those around us.  Yet, though I’d traveled from Moscow to Morocco to Malibu and now live in the Caribbean in Santo Domingo, something inside kept saving the fantasy island resort experience for a hoped-for honeymoon. Until recently…

I gave myself permission.  I let myself go…solo…to Barceló Bávaro Grand Resort.

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Though Punta Cana is known for love connections– the 2014 season of The Bachelorette was filmed here– and this 5-star mega-complex in The Dominican Republic is popular for weddings, family vacations,

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This family reminded me of Florida vacations with Taylor and Cole.  I long for those days but in the words of Disney’s Dori, a family favorite, we have to keep swimming.

and bachelorette/bachelor getaways,

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the Caribbean haven cradles single women travellers with comfort. For those of us with grown children on their own journeys, going solo can provide rejuvenation and even reinvention as we navigate this new season of life.

I was impressed by the 85-year history of the  Barcelo Group, a family  company founded by SimĂłn BarcelĂł in Felanitx (Mallorca, Spain) and later expanded internationally.   After scanning The Dominican Republic by helicopter, owners chose Punta Cana–a then deserted stretch of beautiful jungle and beach.   Because they bought wide rather than deep as many property owners have since, this resort stretches two kilometres along Bavaro Beach rather than behind a small oceanfront area.  The company’s hotel division now has over 100 hotels in 19 countries and its travel division has 685 travel agencies in 22 countries. These figures position it as the third largest hotel chain in Spain, and the forty-second largest in the world.

2)  REST AND REVIVE.

Choosing an all-inclusive resort is the best way to rest before and during your stay since everything–where to eat, drink, swim, sunbathe, shop, be entertained, be active, and find transport–is provided.   While I enjoy researching and plotting my own travel adventures from restaurants to excursions, planning takes energy and time.  For those worn out from home/work responsibilities and constantly making grown up decisions, going with the flow of resorts that offer everything from a bowling alley to a soccer field

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to a casino

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to live entertainment can be freeing.   For those flying into the Punta Cana airport, transfer service to the resort can be arranged as can car rental.  Currency exchange is available and stores carry items you may have forgotten, like sunscreen.   Upon arrival at reception, get a map to see the lay of the land, and if not interested in the buffet, make reservations for some restaurants which require them and any special services–such as spa or tee times (though you can call from your room to set these up later).  I traveled less than three hours from Santo Domingo but was tired and upon checkin rested awhile, then showered before dinner.

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Relaxing shower and pampering products provided

Realize as the New Kid at Camp (seriously, the Barcelo complex feels like an amusement park/pleasure palace for adults), it’s normal to feel excited but also strange not having friends or family there to share the experience.  A trip to the spa and Wellness Center with use of the private pool outside thanks to Premium Level (this upgrade also provides free internet and personal service in the Premium Level Lounge which serves food and champagne and early and late check-in/check-out when available),

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Photos of me by Patirica Fuentes, Community Manager, Barceló Bávaro Grand Resort

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a dip in one of the oceanfront pools,

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or room service, minibar, (courtesy of the Premium Club Suites)

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In my room were local rums.  Mamajuana is a spicy, peppery legend in the area.

and a movie –whatever you need to unwind–will help you relax, recharge and relish your evening and stay ahead.

3)  BREATHE AND DWELL IN POSSIBILITY.

Before dinner at the seafood restaurant where I had lobster on the terrace (the Sante Fe Steak House also has seaside dining), I walked barefoot on sugar sand inhaling the sea air.  I breathed…exhaled… under a full harvest moon.  What would I reap on this trip?  As always, I felt warm knowing those I loved to the moon and back were looking up, too.  I thought of Van Morrison, Emily Dickinson, and the Creator of the most gorgeous clouds I’d ever seen.  Truly, it was a soothing, surreal, “marvellous night for a moon dance,” a time to “dwell in possibility…the spreading wide (of) my narrow Hands To gather Paradise.”

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Though the property is so huge shuttles connect its vast offerings, a solo woman traveler can feel safe walking alone at night.

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4) EAT, DRINK, AND BE MERRY.

An all-inclusive (see under “Other Important Services”) vacation is NOT where we count calories.  Healthy choices are always available, but dieting?  No way.  And since we first eat with our eyes… the ambience of open air tables set amidst lagoons, lakes, and gardens makes every meal a feast.

I slept later than usual thanks to the blackout curtains, had coffee on my patio where I was visited by a Moorhen, nicknamed the Chicken-foot Coot because its feet aren’t webbed and it steps high like a hen. Rested, I was ready to step out, too, so I headed to the nearest restaurant just around the corner for something I rarely get–a Southern-sized breakfast.   The night before PGA golfers (The Dominican Republic is known for the best golfing in the Caribbean) gathered in the foyer bar –champagne, cocktails, beer and bachata music flowing.  Now hushed except for the tin, hollow sound of clubs hitting golf balls, the course and sky met as a blue-and-green canvas for a new day.

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From Dominican fare to all-you-can-eat buffets to a Buffett-worthy Cheeseburger in Paradise, culinary and beverage choices abound.  My finest meal was at the French restaurant recommended by the concierge upon my arrival.  I had to book for my second night because it was booked the night I arrived.

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Warm Salad with Breaded Camembert and caviar (a first for me).
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Snails A’La Bourguignonne
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The Chateaubriand was rich and tender. Other choices included Beef Wellington, Pork Loin, Chicken Cordon Blue, and Duck Breast a l’Orange.
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Chocolate Fondant
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Berries and cream

5)  LET YOUR INNER CHILD PLAY.  

Remember when you were little and you weren’t afraid to explore, concerned about “getting it right” or impressing others?  An all-inclusive where you don’t know a soul allows you to follow Eleanor Roosevelt’s advice: “Do  one thing everyday that scares you.”  Of course, do what you   love.  For me, this was dancing bachata on the beach (Romeo Santos had recently done a concert in Punta Cana).  Golf, tennis, volleyball, soccer, walking, swimming –do what makes you happy– but leave room to discover a new passion.

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Zumba

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Maybe learning to like alone time is what you need.  Or maybe starting a conversation to make new friends and not just because paddle boats take teamwork.

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I loved meeting Patricia who gave me a tour of the property on Saturday and took me out to sea on Sunday.  She assists travel bloggers/media influencers, she’s from Spain, loves promoting community and all the Barcelo brand has to offer, and I liked her instantly.

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And I finally tried kayaking.  It was fun.

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So was meeting Harry Lee and Livvy Turner, Brits below who had just arrived.  They were in the Caribbean for the first time and were looking forward to ten days of bliss.  Harry said they weren’t leaving the property, that he was exhausted by city life.  “I am a broken man,” he quipped, “but will return to London with more energy.”

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6)  LET YOUR INNER CHILD NAP.

Count ships, not sheep, under rustling palm leaves shading you from the sun.  And if you can’t sleep, as my mother used to say, rest your eyes and your mind.

In Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert writes:

“Il bel far niente means ‘the beauty of doing nothing’… [it] has always been a cherished Italian ideal. The beauty of doing nothing is the goal of all your work, the final accomplishment for which you are most highly congratulated. The more exquisitely and delightfully you can do nothing, the higher your life’s achievement. ”

 Last spring break I’d planned to practice this skill on The Amalfi Coast.  Of course, I planned to write and photograph Positano, but that isn’t work to me.  Circumstances prevented that trip, but I’m trying to learn the same lesson in the DR.  This weekend was a wonderful teacher.

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My favorite–pink and blaring bachata.

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 7)  LOOK BACK IN GRATITUDE.

Recall happy times in the past with thanksgiving.  If I’ve learned one thing from many Dominicans it is to laugh and sing more.

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Too often we’re too tired to remember what day it is, much less yesterday or yesteryear.  As has happened a lot over the last two years of living abroad memories of family flood me.   In Punta Cana I remembered other beach vacations with women who have strongly influenced my life.  The summer in Hawaii with my mom, sister, cousin, and aunt.  Another summer in Florida with Mom and her mother, Mama Sargeant–single women for many years like me.  I toasted to them with a Pina Colada, the drink my grandmother enjoyed when she became ill and mom moved in with her until she passed.  I thought of a month earlier when my daughter, Taylor, and I enjoyed another DR beach together.

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8) LOOK FORWARD IN HOPE.

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As gentle waves lap the shore the clear, calm waters of the Caribbean invite reflection.   Remembering happy times, even hard times, reminds us of all we’ve overcome to get to this place which strengthens us to face, even greet what lies ahead.

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Scan the horizon knowing that good is coming.  In studying Spanish I realized this week the roots for esperanza, hope, and esperar, to wait or to expect, are the same.  Faith says to wait, to expect with hope.

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On this lake is the Barcelo chapel where some couples marry.

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And on this pier, a group of friends waited for the bride and groom.

What are you waiting for?  Some things we can make happen.  Others we can’t, so we must trust, wait, and watch.  Traveling solo helps us figure out what we want and how, if in our power, to get it. What to hold onto.  What to let go of.  The beauty of this gorgeous globe  gives us peace in knowing the One who created it can work  all things together for good.

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9)  SEIZE THE DAY AS THE BEST SOUVENIR.

We must live in the moment.   I agree we can take so many photos trying to capture special times that they truly escape us.  Too much staging can kill just being, breathing the experience.  And yes, people may laugh at your selfies, but deep down most of us want to remember times we recognize as special pieces of eternity.   Even if you don’t typically like to have your photo taken, you will  want to remember that you were once in a beautiful place and felt more beautiful for it.  I promise.  Just as a mom says if the house were on fire and all people and pets were out safely she’d grab baby photos first, one day you’ll want to see yourself in a Caribbean paradise where you grew, changed–even use the photos as your screen saver–so you don’t forget how important it was–it is–to get away and enjoy gifts of beauty and adventure you’ve been given.

While in Punta Cana I read an article in More magazine called, When Looks Fade: An Exercise in Perspective by  Christine Lennon who interviewed “The Professionally Beautiful,” asking them how to age with grace.  Molly Sims, author of The Everyday Supermodel said:

“It’s funny how I used to look at a picture when it was taken and think, Ugh, I look awful.  You look at that same picture five years later, and you think, Dang.  I looked pretty good.”

A friend in her 40s recently had professional photos taken to remember this time in her life.  My mom did the same in her mid-30s.  I get it.  Even if you shy from the camera, the best souvenirs of any vacation are photos which capture living -in- the- now forever.  At a Caribbean resort photo opps are everywhere and you’ll see many taking advantage of it.  Don’t be shy.  Help a solo traveling sister out.  Ask if she’d like you to take her picture and ask her to take yours.  Hotel staff will kindly oblige as well.

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Whatever your age or style–girly girl, Bohemian Babe, or mermaid, wear something–maybe a new frock found in shops on the complex– that makes you  smile.  Though I brought a tropical dress with me–a TJMAXX special–I was thrilled to see new styles of two brands I fell in love with in Spain (Mele Beach in Tarife and Desigual in Vigo) sold at the Barcelo Punta Cana complex.

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Mele Beach

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My inner flower child loves this.

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This brand colors my world.
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Desigual

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The beach is your runway.  Get creative.  Take the plunge.  You’ll be glad you did.

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10)  TAKE A PEACE OF PARADISE HOME WITH YOU.

Peace.  Going solo to a Caribbean resort will convince you of what research shows.  Though too few people take enough time off, those who do vacation return rejuvenated and more productive.  No matter the age.  For some of us, the prime time to go solo seems to be when we are trying to survive, even thrive after the nest empties.  We are “tweeners”and if we can’t take a gap year, a gap week works, too.  Soon–assuming we stay in good health–we may be needed to care for parents and grandchildren. Doing all we can to stay fit–physically, mentally, spiritually–is vital for the ones we love.

We are as young as we feel.  I loved seeing women my mom’s age doing Zumba in their bathing suits on the beach.  And about those photos and the freedom on your face they will reflect…

Christie Brinkley, 62 year-old author  of Timeless Beauty and former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model said, “Aging needs a huge rebranding campaign.  People still think of 60 and picture a granny with a shawl and bun.  We need to stop lying about our ages.  Go ahead and say your number; then you’ll reshape other people’s images of that number.”

Likewise, when people ask in disbelief, You traveled to the Caribbean alone? say, Yes and smile.  They may need to be freed, too.

Special thanks to Barceló Bávaro Grand Resort for an amazing experience.  As always, the opinions here are my own.

 

 

 

 

Authentic Home Stay in Atlas Mountains

Authentic Home Stay in Atlas Mountains

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Last Saturday I was home for my son’s graduation and my daughter’s birthday. We had lunch with family in the Tennessee hills and watched The Kentucky Derby, traditionally toasted with Mint Juleps.

This weekend I was back in Morocco where I had lunch with friends in the high Atlas Mountains and road mules to the Berber home where we were traditionally greeted with mint tea.

Last week I wished my dad could have seen his grandson graduate, and yesterday I wished he could have ridden with me in a land so rugged, so beautiful. Always interested in American Indian culture and nature, he would have appreciated the history of the Berbers, the indigenous people of the Atlas Mountains and Dades Valley—land like Colorado where he hunted and like Arizona where our favorite westerns were set. Seen from a saddle, the sweeping grandeur of Imlil made me feel like I was in a movie. No wonder. The village is where trekkers come to scale Jebel Toubkal, the highest peak in Northern Africa. Seven Years in Tibet was partially filmed here.

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In Imlil, our host, Lahcen of Authentic Toubkal Lodge, met us with the muleteers at our car. He is a friend of Kate who had invited me to join her and her daughter, Amy, just arrived from Melbourne.

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Photo by Kate Woods
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Photo by Kate Woods

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Mules carrying concrete blocks for a new mosque

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I’d been in a few Berber villages—one where I entered a rug shop, another a girl’s school, and a couple I’d trekked through with two other hikers, but this was my first private home visit. Just as medina walls can hide secret gardens, village houses made of mud and concrete– seemingly hard and dark–can shelter cozy retreats.  Such was the case here. Up the stairs, past a formal salon, then  down a decorative hall a door led to a  paradise of pure light.  From the comfortable, colorful terrace we saw snow-peaked mountains and heard the mosque’s call to prayer.

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Lachen made Amy the guest of honor, giving her Berber attire and the charge of making tea.

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He explained the proper way to make Moroccan mint tea.
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Large bricks of sugar are a must.
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As is pouring the tea from the highest position possible.

 

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Photo by Kate Woods

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Full and happy, we rested before taking a tour of the house and the village.  The rooms’ design details and thoughtful touches–plush blankets, slippers, custom showers and tile — as well as the food, view, and hospitality have earned the home top ratings on Trip Advisor and Airbnb.  Though grateful, Lahcen says he doesn’t display awards to persuade customers.  Instead he preserves the authenticity of the home where he grew up and is confident “guests will come– inshallah.”  He adds that while “money comes and goes” what matters is offering people the best of nature and making them feel at home.

To book a lunch, tour, or home stay go here.

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Ready to continue our village tour, we received, as Kate said, “Rock Star parking” and curb service.

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Spanish Steps Offers Camino Tours and Beyond

Spanish Steps Offers Camino Tours and Beyond

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Photo by SpanishSteps.com

When in doubt, just take the next small step.

–Paulo Coelho, The Pilgrimage

Whether wanting to explore Spain (and other countries’ roads that lead there), pursue a personal dream, ponder in peace, practice wellness through hiking or yoga, learn language, hear stories from travelers around the world, Spanish Steps leads the way in offering options.  I fell in love with Spain last year, and experiencing that gorgeous country with Spanish Steps is now high on my Bucket List.

After hiking with Mònica FernĂ ndez, a talented Spanish and English teacher, through her native region of Galicia, in Southern Spain, and in the Sahara, I am excited to learn she will co-lead tours below with other dedicated members of Owner Judy Colaneri’s  Spanish Steps staff including co-guiding with her husband, Alessandro Martinez,  October 12-19.

All Camino tour dates in Spain, France, and Italy can be found here. Tours fill up fast so if interested take the step that leads to more here.

May 12-19, September 4-11, October 12-19 Camino 100

May 29-June 5 Camino Portuguese

June 6-12 Camino Finisterre 

June 25-July 2 Walk & Talk at Fuentes de LucĂ­a

 

 

 

 

 

Morocco’s Paradis Plage Surf and Spa Resort Is the Perfect Coastal Luxury Stay

Morocco’s Paradis Plage Surf and Spa Resort Is the Perfect Coastal Luxury Stay

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Photo by Paradis Plage

The third stop on my November beach hop along the Moroccan Atlantic Coast was Paradis Plage Surf and Spa Resort.  Owners take pride in being the first hotel in Morocco to combine yoga and surfing—a dynamic duo since yoga prepares and repairs the body after surfing.  The property invites guests to ride waves, climb camels, or salute the sun as it rises and sets. Here couples, families, friends, and solo travelers enjoy over 100 suites with terraces or balconies opening to pool or sea.  Recreation varies from four area golf courses and an outdoor cinema.  Located 30 minutes from Agadir and 50 minutes from an international airport connecting to European capitals via 3-hour flights, the resort is where westerners love to play.

Started by Kabbage Abbes, one of the first investors in Agadir hotels,  who teamed with Francois Payot, head of Rip Curl Europe, the resort is a work of art run by  Abbes’ daughter, Naima, and her husband, Vincent. Furnishings were created by locals and the gorgeous green spaces and gardens are by  Spanish landscaper, Sergio Castaneda Beltran.

 

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Photo by Paradis Plage

Excited to learn more about surfing and to practice yoga, I was shown to a gorgeous oceanfront suite. At the Surf House beach bar while sipping my Flag (local beer) and waiting for a Mexican burger (rare in this region), I saw horses and camels waiting patiently on the sand while cats lounged in the sun. Later, everyone returned for the golden orange sunset.  

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Simo, instructor here and in video above, is from Rabat.  He has taught in Hawaii and on the US East Coast.  He guarantees by the end of the first lesson every student will be up on their boards.

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In partnership with Rip Curl, legendary Australian brand, Tarik Wahbi, surf pro from Tétouan, is ranked one of Morocco’s Top Ten surfers.  Manager of the surf program, he leads a team of gregarious guys who hook up guests with equipment, instruction, and guides to the best waves.

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Photo by Pardis Plage

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Photo by Paradis Plage

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Paradis Plage Surf and Spa Resort nurtures total wellness that fits the unique needs of each guest.  Surf and Yoga packages are available for two or five days.    Surf School Packages are available for 5 days—2 sessions per day.

Yoga and Spa packages range from two days (daily yoga course, a sensory hammam, and a massage) to five days (yoga course, two hammams, one body scrub, and two massages).

The resort shares with clients the secrets of Moroccan women’s beauty.  All cosmetics are 100% natural Taroudant Argan oil, essential oils from Marrakech gardens, pebbles from Imi Ouaddar’s beach, facial treatments using Sous Massa prickly pip, Taliouine saffron or roses of Dades Valley.

Traditional Hammams consist of a black soap scrub, Atlas ghassoul wrap, Atlantic Coast seaweed wrap, Imouzzer honey, and spice scrub.  Sensory Hammams fuse fragrances of in orange blossom and eucalyptus to relax and rejuvenate.  Managing massages and other spa services is Marie France Riera.

Important Tip:  Schedule spa services, especially massages, and yoga classes before you arrive or at check-in because appointments and classes fill fast.

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Photo by Paradis Plage
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Photo by Paradis Plage

Yoga group classes, the highlight of my getaway, are offered three times daily:

8-9:15 Sunrise Yoga (for all levels)—breathing, flexibility, strength, muscle toning, body opening

11-12:15 Easy Yoga (all levels but especially great for beginners) Asanas postures and poses; precision of body alignment, rhythm, balance

5:30-7 Sunset  Yoga (all levels)–  detoxification, relaxing based on Vinyasa flow systems

Also available are classes in Yin Yoga Therapy (gentle practice using blocks, pillows, restorative and relaxing to relieve tension in muscles and joints, relax spine and pelvis), Aerial Yoga (hammock used for suspension), Prenatal, Power Flow (ultimate workout for athletes), and 108 Greetings.  Custom sessions can be arranged by Karim Fadali.

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Photo by Paradis Plage

Classes are typically held in the Yoga Shala which consists of two beach studios connected by a lotus pond and facing the sea.  Groups may rent the space for private retreats as they did during my stay so guests met in an open air space (see below).  Sara, our excellent German instructor, lives in Cairo.  Like the best teachers, she is creative, kind, soulful, and a learner herself.  She was excited about taking her first surf lesson after our yoga class.  My classmates were European as well– some there with partners and others solo. We “sent love to the flies”–pests in the  Taghazout region at times– but packing insect repellent might also be a good idea.  The small community made it possible to meet other guests in classes and connect with them at the poolside buffets or bars later.

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Photo by Paradis Plage

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I left feeling refreshed and restored by the beauty of nature and yoga.  I loved seeing smiles on surfers’ faces when they did what we all must do to navigate and enjoy life– conquer fear, be flexible and strong, and stand tall as we ride the waves.

Thanks to Paradis Plage for a restful retreat.  As always, the opinions are my own.

 

 

surf berbere

Surf Berbere an Endless Summer Camp for Adults

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A brilliant beam lasers through the blue wooden shutter. Now awake, I push open the window to catch the sun rising slowly, then bursting boldly from behind buildings on the beach. I’m singing Cat Stevens. He loved the Moroccan coast as I do.

Morning has broken like the first morning…

Mine is the sunlight, 
Mine is the morning,
Born of the one light Eden saw play.
Praise with elation, praise ev’ry morning,
God’s recreation of the new day.

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The afternoon before, I’d been picked up at the bus station in Agadir and driven along the coast to Taghazout. The stretch reminded me of the route my kids and I took one summer in a convertible from Santa Monica to Malibu. We’d stopped to watch surfers at Zuma Beach. This time my destination was Surf Berbere to practice yoga, learn about surfing, and live in community with the people who do it.

As we rolled into town I smelled fish sizzling. Minutes later at reception I met a friendly blond girl the age of my daughter. She, like everyone, was dressed in shorts and a tee shirt and radiated sunshine. In Marrakech it was sweater and boots weather, but here, just three hours south, it was summer (my favorite season) again. Since moving to Morocco I’d gotten serious about yoga, and when my instructor spoke of retreats on the coast, I added another destination to my Bucket List.  I’d wanted a fertile climate where my inner flower child could bloom. Here banana trees abound, the sun shines 300 days a year, and people relax.  Seemed I’d found the place.

She led me to the Vista Apartment all shiny clean and spacious. Flinging my suitcase on the bed, I turned and was stunned by the sight of nothing-but-sea out my window.

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As on my first beach solo trip to Costa Rica, I felt broken by beauty.   I’d planned to rest or write before yoga class and dinner, but thoughts began churning within like the waves without.

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Reliving our California trip had made me again miss my children in Nashville. Simultaneously experiencing this amazing Moroccan place made me again realize how much I’ll miss this country one day. My thoughts were like the tide mightily pushing and pulling me in two directions. How can I live abroad much longer so far from people I love across this ocean? How will I go back after all I’ve seen and felt here? How will I give up the beauty and adventure of this place? 

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Thankfully, by morning future fears robbing me of the present had washed out to sea, leaving diamonds—not smoke– sparkling on the water. The night waves pounding the shore below my balcony had somehow soothed my soul as nature and its creator always does. I woke rested and ready.

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As the campers of Surf Berbere had gathered around burgers on the rooftop grill the night before, we shuffled toward breakfast from our apartments to the café terraces that morning. Under clear, blue skies, fat cats chilled and a cute puppy begged as beginners and intermediates wondered which beach our instructors would choose for the day. The pros—many who had lived there for months—mapped their route for chasing waves as well. Van Morrison sang “Into the Mystic” as I finished my coffee.

I’d loved summer camp when I was a teen, so much so I became a counselor. I’d learned to ski on Kentucky Lake as many learn to surf on Hash Point. Nights at both places we circled up to tell tales of days on the water. Here some seemed to be old friends, but most campers were traveling solo and had only recently met. It seemed they, too, had decided to stop waiting for someone else to rock their gypsy souls and had shown up confident they’d find what they were seeking with strangers who’d bond over shared passions for sea, surf, and yoga.

By nine we were grabbing boards and suits at the surf shop, then bouncing on Taghazout’s main street (really only street) toward Anza Bay. In our van the campers were as eclectic as the playlist. Two girls from Cologne, Germany and another from London—aged 27-31—were excited for their first lesson.  A guy from Ghent, Belgium had surfed the Great Barrier Reef. New friends from Sweden, Norway, and Switzerland were in the other van. All were on holiday from careers or retired from public service, as was the man I met from the same area of Wales as my grandmother’s family. All identified me as the only American but were surprised I now live in Marrakech—a city all travelers described as too intense and frenetic.

Later that afternoon two experienced surfers traded stories of battle scars–one a West Australian travel blogger whose fin sliced open his butt. Though it still hadn’t healed completely, he had recently gone swimming in the Nile.

“So you have a gnarly scar!” laughed the UK girl who’d been in wine sales, moved to Surf Berbere, then Sri Lanka, now Surf Berbere where she is taking the surf instructor’s course. She’d had a friend whose board rope wound so tightly around the tip of his finger, it popped the joint off. Both were energized rather than afraid of injuries, but when he said he was traveling a year, she sighed and said the same words another woman spoke at lunch the day before: “I don’t know if I can ever go back again to the western world.”

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The Moroccan surf instructors, Imad and Rashid were patient, skilled, and fun. After warm ups and the lesson, they stayed in the water for one-on-one coaching throughout the day. I quickly understood the close relationship between surfing and yoga. Upper body strength, flexibility, and balance are key.  Like dancing, surfing can be graceful and beautiful once techniques are learned and practiced.  Like life, it’s about being in the moment rather than over thinking.  It’s about catching the wave when it comes and riding it out.

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Fueling us was Chef Mohamed who served huge portions of home cooking including the best burgers and spaghetti (packed for lunch) I’ve had in Morocco. Friday I enjoyed the international fusion of favorites– traditional cous cous with apple crumble for dessert. Managing with Hamza and Beth for James, the warm and welcoming London owner, is Marie. Like many creative campers I met, she is a travel blogger from Frankfurt (where I’ll go next month as well as to Cologne thanks to the girls who said the Christmas markets in their hometown are must -sees). When Marie  isn’t custom planning each guest’s daily schedule, she’s writing her Masters thesis in Brand Management.  She gave me a sneak peak of her  uber-cool line of surfing tights. You won’t see her without a smile.

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Marie (front) and Clare (back)

As for all the campers, they were tenaciously teachable, grateful, and kind. Truly some of the nicest people I’ve met in one place.   Wherever I am living a year from now, I’ll remember beginning yoga with sun salutations that were literal goodnights to the golden orb as it turned orange and melted into the sea. I’ll remember ending class with Savasana under a navy-black sky of stars above.  And I hope I (and single empty nesters like me) remember the words of the instructor: “It’s not selfish to take care of yourself.  It’s not selfish to love yourself. It’s necessary.”

Check out pricing and book here.  Apartment rentals are here.

Thank you to Surf Berbere for an amazing retreat.  As always, the opinions are my own.

And thank you, Marie, for my first Christmas card of the season.  Peace to all from another traveler, Odysseus:

“Come, my friends, It is not too late to seek a better world.”–Tennyson

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Living Large (and Small) at Ouzoud Falls

Living Large (and Small) at Ouzoud Falls

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Ouzoud Falls Quench Thirst for Adventure, Beauty, and Relationship

Yesterday I was ambushed by monkeys, then drenched by a waterfall.

The first incident felt like being on the set of Scarface as Tony Montana’s compound was seized by Sosa’s drug cartel. What followed was like playing opposite Harrison Ford in yet another Indiana Jones movie filmed in Morocco.

Ok, maybe not that dramatic, but life here is sometimes like the movies–  a mix of realism, magic (like the sandstorm that blew up outside my apartment as I wrote this as if on cue), and moments of Monty Python. Yesterday’s road trip was to Ozoud Falls, located150 kilometers from Marrakech, in the province of Azilal.  We began at 8 AM in a van arranged by Ismail Amzilo of Morocco Desert Adventures.   Our journey was cathartic providing fright, wonder, and laughter. It quenched thirst for adventure, beauty and relationship–especially because it was shared with a community of coworkers that functions like family when living abroad. Together we weathered the long ride (3 hours each way fraught with bathroom stops behind bushes and in some scary Turkish toilets).  Still we pressed past queasy stomachs, even rain that prevented the full hike we’d planned, but in the end were rewarded with much fun including a couple of surprises.

So about those monkeys…while seated on a café terrace watching the waterfalls and waiting for tajines,

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Monkey #1 climbed out of the rocks onto the bamboo ledge that wound around our table. His eyes were fixed and unreadable as he slinked toward us like a model on a New York runway while we, the paparazzi, breathlessly snapped photos. With one swift leap, he dove into trees behind and below our table and was gone.

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We all sat down again, thrilled with the close encounter. Emily was sitting beside me, her back leaned against the bamboo where the monkey had disappeared. Suddenly, with the stealth, stoicism, and surprise of the assassins who scaled the walls surrounding Tony Montana’s mansion, the monkey’s paws, then terrifying grin appeared beside Emily’s ear. At our screams (and my unfortunate “Oh Shit!”) he again vanished. Emily moved to the other side of the table, and I scooted close to her, while Bethany and Jon said they weren’t afraid and would keep watch.

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Clockwise from head of table: Jen, Rachel, Eliza, Jon, Ali, Bethany, Audrey, Emily, Ben, Jason, Julie

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While we finished dessert, a large female monkey– Big Mama– appeared on the ledge at the other end of the table. She stared, unblinking, at us, then began her strut down the runway.

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Jumping up, we again grabbed cameras. One…two…three…four steps…

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a quick leap to the right…and she POUNCED on the middle of the table. Brazenly grabbing the breadbasket, she took off, rebuked by Jon who had seen his 3rd grade teacher bitten on the butt by a monkey at school. That poor woman had rabies shots and stitches.

Thankfully, the ones we saw on the trail the rest of the day were smaller and not aggressive. And though Jon’s story (and another he told in the van about an alligator who bit an elephant’s nose) had us worried about the man we saw with a monkey perched on his shoulder, I hoped his turban would protect his ear should the creature take a nip.

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We headed down to the platform where we posed, snapped poses, and were posed with.

Photo by Julie TuSpaz
Photo by Julie TuSpaz

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And then our descent began down what seemed to be hundreds of steps–a great workout considering a storm looming prevented our mountain climbing.

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New customers had taken our seats on the ledge. Wonder if the monkeys made an encore appearance?

At the bottom were more photo shoots before we boarded a Moroccan-style gondola for our ride into the cascades.

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Photo by Jon Wommack

Back on the van we heard a story from one of our tiny troopers about giants wearing flip flops.  The waterfalls made us all feel small again with their Jurassic Park size and spray.  As our guide rowed us into them, I’m not sure I’ve laughed that hard since carnival rides with my sister at the Wilson County fair or Opryland’s Grizzly River Rampage. And there were two more surprises.  Who says life isn’t ponies and rainbows?  Yesterday we enjoyed both.

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Our tiny teller of tall tales

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Photo by Julie TuSpaz

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Photo by Jon Wommack

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Ride home with our tiniest trooper

Morocco Desert Adventures is on Facebook.  For tour information, Ismail can be contacted at info@moroccodesertadventures.com.

Luxury Tent Experience…Camping in the Country

Luxury Tent Experience…Camping in the Country

Koutoubia Tent at Manzil La Tortue
Koutoubia Tent at Manzil La Tortue

Whispers within as lanterns flicker, casting silhouettes on white canvas. Stars without, winking from an ebony sky at the palm grove beneath. All is silent but green leather leaves rustling in a restless breeze.

Since I was a child, Hollywood has fueled my love affair with tents. Though Tarzan never slept in one, the adventurous women on African safaris did. So did leading ladies in my favorite romantic movies–Beyond Borders, The English Patient, Lawrence of Arabia. At Manzil La Tortue my adult fantasy of nomadic nesting made chic by sheiks was finally fulfilled. Merging my love for camping and country (Dad’s only idea of vacation involved a campfire, and our grandparents took us every Sunday to visit relatives on farms), my stay at this rural retreat was heaven. As Paula (see video below) said after welcoming me with mint tea, “This is our own little piece of paradise.” I’m so grateful they shared it with me.

I had booked a Sunday pool and lunch day with friends the weekend before. My fish was delicious, the molten chocolate cake amazing, and the pool was perfect.

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I couldn’t wait to return for a weekend stay when I’d wander and photograph the property. When I arrived last Saturday with my friend, Jasna, who photographed me for this post, Paula walked us past the herb gardens. Outside our tent we could smell the orange and lime trees, but the breeze also carried mint, thyme, lavender, rosemary, and scented geranium which reminded me of home.

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As we passed the hen house I thought of my cousin, Sonjia, who showed my sister, Penny, and me how to gather eggs. I remembered my cousin, Brock, who showed prize rabbits as we passed the thatched area where bunnies were munching on breakfast.

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We passed through a gate to a private area where our tent awaited. I hadn’t looked online to see if because I wanted to be surprised. My mind flashed back to last fall when my friend, Monica, and I rode camels to a campsite in the Sahara Desert. I had expected a white canopy cloud blowing in the instead. Instead our guide disappeared to fetch dinner so we stumbled by the light of my phone into a pitch-black tarp where we slept on 2- inch burlap mattresses tossed on the sand.

As I walked inside, I was stunned.  By contrast, Manzil La Tortue provided so much more than I expected… glamping at its finest.

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Tour the deluxe Koutoubia tent in the video below– an immense 61 square meters/656 square feet.  Waking up to morning light illuminating the colorful canopy was as delightful as falling asleep to the wind’s breath causing the canvas to rise and fall.

The rest of the weekend I felt like a kid again in my own secret garden.

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As a Southern girl who values beauty breaks in bucolic settings and family, I love that this peaceful place is owned and run by a team of great people: Fouad Housni and his wife Meriame, manager of two companies, Unitours Moroc and Morocco My Way, providing excursions for guests; Fouad’s mother, Paula; and two adorable girls, Lina and Salma. I enjoyed hearing Paula’s romantic story (video below) of passing through Casablanca in 1970 headed to Canada but never making it. She moved to Marrakesh with Fouad in 1981.

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Tents of many sizes are available as are rooms in the villa or even “camper cars” for those who want to rough it.

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Breakfast is included, and half board and full board is also available for lunch and dinner. As a mom who grilled nightly on my deck in Tennessee and a girl whose dad grilled on every camping trip in Kentucky, I was excited to try their specialty, Planchas, plates of food grilled by guests at the table. Not quite sure what to do with so many olive oils and spices, I was assisted by Brahim, the waiter, then Chef Abdelhaq, who showed me how it is properly done. From Abdessamad, pool tech and security, to Naima who served breakfast, the staff made us feel welcome.

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Seafood Plancha

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Beef fillet with mashed potatoes, apples, and apricots

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Moroccan chicken tagine with prunes

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Gazpacho with home grown tomoatos

Marrakesh is a frenetic place–a speedway of honking taxis and zooming motorbikes.  Malls and even grocery stores blare “disco” music, and at my last pool in the Palms, the speakers that hung over every lounge chair vibrated from a DJ who made relaxation impossible.  Sometimes we need wide, open spaces…especially when the road ends here.  Fouad can assist with transportation.

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Manzil La Tortue, thankfully, is a No Noise Zone.  All I heard were brilliant blue birds singing; fat, white doves cooing; and hens clucking.  Whether your “tent thing” is Gatsby, Game of Thrones, or a childhood version in the backyard, here you can play.

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Lina and Salma watching a child’s program on a tablet

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For the Manzil La Tortue picture gallery, go here.

Thank you, Manzil La Tortue, for a wonderful experience!