Last month before leading a travel writing retreat in Marrakesh, I took a three-day solo timeout to rest and reset. I arrived in Morocco after long flights and layovers … and a spring semester of teaching, editing, and caring for family. In short … I was spent. Those three days brought me back to life. Take a tour (above) of Palais Blanc Riad, and two nearby attractions, Bahia Palace and Jardin Majorelle and start planning your dream escape. If I can be of help, leave a comment or contact me at cindylmccain1@gmail.com.
If you missed the last post where I highlighted Morocco’s UNESCO sites and another luxury stay in Marrakesh, go here.
Note to readers: I only feature accommodations and attractions I’ve experienced myself. As always, the opinions on this blog are my own. I also use affiliate links to offset blog and podcast costs at no expense to the reader/consumer.
You can listen to the podcast versions of what happened in those three days (episode above is here), but I recommend YOUTUBE for what words alone can’t say.
Imagine entering a world without stress.
Suites have traditional Arabic arched doorways at Palais Blanc Riad.
Inside a cloud, you have suite dreams.
My suite at Palais Blanc Riad was peaceful and serene.
Imagine waking up rested.
You can see yourself and the world around you. Clearly.
Imagine a solo getaway.
Renewed mind, body, and soul, you remember who you are and what you want.
At Palais Blanc Riad, you have a respite.
No agenda.
Just time to relax … sleep … swim …
Eat.
Lean into Il bel far niente (Italian for The beauty of doing nothing.) Just … breathe and be.
A room, a terrace, a table with a view gives new perspective.
We vow to dwell in joy and peace. To fulfill old dreams and create new ones. To envision what can be.
We get a glimpse of heaven, and we don’t want to leave.
As Brene Brown says, “Soft front, strong back, wild heart.”
Last spring when my friend Caroline offered me her holiday home as my private writing retreat, I was thrilled. Though we’d never met in person, we’d been in contact since 2016 just before I left Morocco. After I moved to the Dominican Republic, she bought the house and sent me photos of each phase of its restoration. I was returning to Marrakech in June and couldn’t wait to finally step into the haven she had designed. She’d be working out of the country but would leave the key for me.
Months before the trip, I started envisioning myself wearing a kaftan again, journaling mornings on her rooftop couches and clicking afternoons on my laptop in her jade courtyard. The color she chose for the entrance tile and kitchen reminded me of the Emerald City. Appropriate, I thought, because Magical Marrakech had been Oz where I’d lived over the rainbow for two years. I couldn’t wait to return.
I imagined scouting the souks in her neighborhood for wedding quilts–my most prized Moroccan treasure– and eating next door at the hotel she frequented. As I’d done before, perched on ramparts above the African Coast, balconies on the Mediterranean Sea, and atop other medina guest houses, I’d watch sunsets. And as the moon rose, though a female solo traveler, I’d feel safe so high in the dark. The panoramic views at sunrise and star-filled heavens at night– beauty breaks for the soul– would give me new perspective. I’d feel protected, closer to my creator, and thus more creative.
An inspiring place to write is always top of my list when choosing accommodations. When traveling with children to Florida beaches, I’d book stays with pretty ocean or pool side patios where I could work before they woke up. Writing for me is a sacred space, and to do so in an Edenic location makes my heart sing.
But like Amanda Wingfield, despite all my “plans and preparations,” things sometimes went awry. My 2013 trip to Costa Rica to write like Hemingway in a Caribbean jungle was rattled off course by an earthquake and ER visit. On the 2016 Girl’s Trip to Tuscany rather than writing in a vineyard villa the flu or pneumonia forced me to bed. I then finished the week like the walking dead. Spring Break 2017 in the Dominican Republic I was to write on a terrace by the sea. Instead, a man hiding in the jungle in a mask marred my sense of safety for the two months I had left to teach in the country. God protected me and I’m forever grateful, but I’d discover in Morocco over a year later that like Michael Myers in the Halloween film, fear had stowed away in my luggage to stalk me.
I felt him, faintly, in the distance when I met Moni in Madrid on my way to Marrakesh but thought I was just rundown from a rough interim teaching gig or exhaustion from the last two years. Seeing her would be good medicine as would be seeing Kate and Jasna in Morocco where, before, I’d felt so free. But while making my way one afternoon back to a hotel I was reviewing, I thought I was lost. Though I’d shopped and riad-hopped for two years in the medina, turning onto a deserted street–like the stretch of beach where the man grabbed me–I became terrified. I hurried on–as it turned out, on the right route–and turned down another deserted alley where I knew the hotel entrance would be. When a man on a motorbike turned down the same street, I began stabbing my key, hands shaking, to hit the hole. I stumbled over the threshold and pulled the bolt behind me. In my room, I shook and cried. Was this what people call post traumatic stress?
The next trigger was when I went to Caroline’s. Kate said she’d see me settled but couldn’t stay. We took a taxi to a part of the medina we weren’t familiar with, then were told by the driver we’d have to walk the rest of the way. A young man heard us talking about the hotel where we would get the key and pointed down a narrow street. Though the hotel was there and the riad just around the corner, by the time we unlocked the door I was racked with anxiety.
Two of Caroline’s friends from London stopped by to give us the tour. They said they were staying next door until the next day and while Marylynn, a flight attendant, chatted with Kate in the salon, Martina, a hair stylist, took me up three more floors. She unlocked each gorgeous bedroom and the stairway to the roof.
“Caroline said to choose the room you like best.”
“They’re all so pretty,” I managed to say. I tried not to start crying. And failed.
“I apologize. Something bad happened to me in the Dominican Republic. I love Morocco. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Caroline was so sweet to offer me her home. I wish you two were staying here. ” I was thinking, I AM VERY, VERY AFRAID. I DON’T WANT TO BE ALONE. Somehow, she knew.
“Listen. We will be right next door. You can wave to us from the roof.” She kindly smiled and nodded, shaking her curls and, now animated, pointing to the neighboring restaurant.
“We are going to dinner there and you will join us. We leave tomorrow so I have to do a bit more shopping. My daughter’s getting married and I need to buy some things to take home. Relax and we’ll be back in a couple of hours. We’ll have some Prosecco on your rooftop and head over. Tell me what you’d like and I’ll make you a reservation. We’re having lamb. Do you know tapping? I’ll show you how to be free from those bad vibes.”
And with that the three women were gone. Caroline checked in by phone to be sure all was well, and I unpacked and shortly Martina and Marylynn returned. We talked children, travel, tapped, and toasted the sunset. Then laughed, a lot, over dinner. They were fun and so very sweet.
Caroline’s Rooftop
Marylynn (left) and Martina (center)
They walked me back to the riad, and the next morning, before we met for breakfast, I took photos of the hotel to remember yet again time I’d been able to depend on the kindness of strangers. I hated hugging them goodbye, but we have stayed in touch and hope to meet again on one continent or another. I’d love to host them and Caroline in Nashville.
The remainder of my stay whenever I was afraid, I prayed. I wrote of how God had protected me–in the DR and throughout all of my life–and thanked Him for a place where He had again given me roses in the desert.
I knew last summer my time for living in Morocco had passed, but I hope to return there often. Next June I hope to show others on a writing retreat this place that moves me and so many.
In Caroline’s home lines from The Wizard of Oz.
And on the last night at Caroline’s, I climbed to the rooftop. I’d been saved from a predator on a faraway shore. I could have been harmed, even died, but he hadn’t taken me down, made me too afraid to be alone or to travel. Fear had almost made me miss staying in Caroline’s lovely home and meeting her friends. God was still protecting me and blessing me with people who make me feel less alone. I had fresh hope that one day I may travel with not only amazing women friends but also someone else.
I felt him out there. Not the guy I’d dreaded, but the one I’ve been waiting for. The one who waits for me. And then I found the poem below by Hafiz Shirazi, a 13th Century Persian Poet. I twirled and smiled.
I SAW YOU DANCING
I saw you dancing last night on the roof
Of your house all alone.
I felt your heart longing for the
Friend.
I saw you whirling
Beneath the soft bright rose
That hung from the invisible stem in
The sky,
So I began to change into my best clothes
In hopes of joining you
Even though
I live a thousand miles away.
And if
You had spun like an immaculate sphere
Just two more times,
Then bowed again so sweetly to
The east,
You would have found God and me
Standing so near
And lifting you into our
Arms.
I saw you dancing last night near the roof
Of this world.
I feel your soul in mine
Calling for our
Beloved.
Signature Moroccan hospitality at Riad Melhoune in Marrakesh, Morocco
Updated on April 25, 2023
From the moment I walked into Riad Melhoun in Marrakesh, I was treated as an honored guest and friend. Maybe I loved the experience of this stay because the blend of Arabic- Andalusian architecture and music felt so familiar after living in Morocco and visiting southern Spain often. Like Santiago who traveled from Andalusia to Tangier in Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist, I’d journeyed to this mysterious country where dreams and destiny converged. As I was warmed by the traditional welcome, mint tea, I gazed into the shimmering pool which reflected a silver service, an exotic hookah, and a woman forever changed by two years in this place.
Maybe I loved Riad Melhoun because it, too, is a reflection of art and history– wood carvings, stucco, and design inspired by the Bahia Palace nearby and the Medersa Ben Youssef.
Maybe it was being shown to the superior Amessan suite, making any woman feel like a princess with the canopied bed and decorative doors opening exclusively to the courtyard pool. On the second floor were seven other sumptuous rooms.
The master suite of Riad Melhoune opens to the riad courtyard.
The Master Suite at Riad Melhoune opens to the courtyard pool.
Maybe it was the attention to detail–matching tile sinks, arched doorways and alcoves, stained glass windows, bedding, lanterns, soft robe and slippers, and a spacious shower.
Maybe I felt at home because I wrote for hours under the arbor on the rooftop. Being outdoors is paradise to me despite insects that love lush gardens, too. If you enjoy camping out as I do everywhere I go, repellent is a suggestion.
Truly taking pride in the details, the staff plans excursions with guests. I stayed on the property and Riad Melhoun delivered my Big 3 —beauty, adventure, and new friends.
Life is better on a rooftop where we’re closer to heaven. I loved the view while writing in Riad Melhoune’s garden above the city.
Rooftop Garden at Riad Melhoune & Spa in Marrakesh, Morocco Grapes on rooftop of Riad Melhoune & Spa Marrakesh Morocco Rooftops in Marrakesh make a writer’s mind soar. I imagine the life of a very happy expat woman living her dream in the villa next door. At the time I wrote this post, drones were common in Morocco. Since updating the post in 2023, I have found conflicting info on drone laws. Some sites say drones are banned . Before bringing one into the country, check several current, official Moroccan government sites.
I met guests waiting for the sunset on the rooftop. This gentleman showed me how drones work. I loved seeing the city from a drone and have wanted one for taking photos ever since.
Sunset view from Riad Melhoune Rooftop Marrakesh
As the night grew dark and lanterns were lit, I went down to dinner and found my table set at the end of the pool. Thrilled, I took my seat. On the pristine cloth, to my delight, were red rose petals. Again I thanked God for blessings as I’d done that afternoon in the memoir I am writing about moving to Morocco. It’s called Roses in the Desert. Solo travelers are accustomed to tables for one. Here attentive staff makes the dining experience special and you don’t feel alone.
Gracious staff members make solo travelers feel special at a table for one at beautiful Riad Melhoune & Spa in Marrakesh, Morocco. A delicious dinner served with premium Moroccan flair at Riad Melhoune Marrakesh
The next morning I found my place on the rooftop. Local honey is loved here by Moroccans, tourists, and bees.
Delicious, local honey is plentiful in Morocco.
Riad Melhoun has a spacious spa where massages and hammams can be booked. I miss hammams in the U.S., Morocco’s signature treat, so enjoyed one before leaving. This ritual originated in public bathhouses separated by gender for those with no indoor plumbing to bathe weekly. Women socialized here. Recently on tour with a local guide in Tétouan, I learned the three most important mainstays of the medina are the mosques, hammams, and bakeries.
I love private hammams performed by a lady who instructs clients to disrobe and lie on the hot stone bench in a marble room with dry heat like a sauna. She poured water over me from a silver bucket and smeared me on both sides with savon beldi (a blackish looking soap made with olive oil). She left me ten minutes to relax allowing the heat and oil to soften my skin. When she returned, she scrubbed away the top layer of dead flesh (which peels off in rolls) with a kess (a mit akin to sandpaper). Next, she covered me in argan oil by Sens of Marrakech (a local, organic, fragrant line of products), and left me again to “bake.” She returned, washed my hair, and rinsed my body. Finally, she massaged lotion into my then-baby-soft skin. She wrapped me in a robe and sat me down in a cooler room for mint tea.
The only problem was, I felt so relaxed after the experience I could barely walk downstairs. Thankfully, I was packed up so all I had to do was tumble into a tuk-tuk to be whisked away to another adventure. I am so thankful to Riad Melhoun for making dreams come true.
Thank you to Manager Mr. Mohamed and his wonderful staff for their hospitality. As always, the opinions here are my own.
Manager Mr. Mohamed of Riad Melhoune & Spa Marrakesh, Morocco where dreams come true
Stepping from a tunnel of the Medina into a passageway to a massive door… crossing the threshold into a lush courtyard garden flanked with singing birds… climbing the spiral staircase to three levels of heaven.Exploring Riad Dar Kleta is a magical adventure.Being inspired by the creativity of its owners, Julien and Francoise Gaumont, who treat guests like family, is unforgettable.
My friend, Kate, and I were greeted with mint tea when we arrived, asked to name whatever Moroccan dishes we wished to have for dinner, and told to relax. “You are home,” said Julien.
So many choices… to sprawl on the lush, shaded couches of burnt orange and earth tones overlooking the courtyard, to nap on wine-colored sofas by a cacti garden, to wind up the second spiral staircase to loungers for watching the sky change colors at sunset.
Our room had a view of the garden and touches that made it welcoming.
The night was a little cool for dinner on the rooftop–unusual for June in Morocco–so we were served in the beautiful salon below. We sat down to a refreshing drink before dinner, wine, and a delicious meal prepared that afternoon from local, fresh ingredients.
Julien and Francoise unveiled the tagines with traditional French-Moroccan flair. Photo credit: Kate Woods of Moroccobespoke
My Aussie friend Kate
The lamb and prune and vegetable tagines were wonderful, as was the fresh mango and cherries that followed. The next morning we enjoyed breakfast in the courtyard. Francoise had made the homemade orange and strawberry jams.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Francoise left her career as a nurse and Julien as a concierge on Oléron, an island off the west coast of France where they lived nine years. They fell in love with Marrakesh, as did their daughter, Lila, on holidays in Morocco. Now fifteen, Lila told her parents when younger that Moroccan adults notice and speak first to children. Loving the attention, she turned down a trip to the beach in Essaouira with them, preferring instead to stay behind with the Moroccan ladies working at the hotel. She now loves attending school in Marrakesh.
For Francoise, it was a natural move as well. Her parents were French expats who had moved to Casablanca for her grandfather’s health and there she was born. She’d lived in Morocco until she was nine. The first trip back was with Julien nine years ago when she told him it felt like home. Now hotel owners, the couple rents two rooms of their home to guests, making an intimate experience –one reason John Brunton named Riad Dar Kleta in The Guardian as a Top Ten place to stay in Marrakech. In Creuse, they still have a family home and visit their four older children and nine grandchildren living in France.
The couple is following another dream. In addition to tag-teaming as managers of Riad Matham and Riad Dar Kleta, three years ago they became designers. Their chic French style and love for Moroccan vintage textiles led to their creating furniture, clothing, and handbags sold in their hip boutique, Bazarkech , located in the shops below medina landmark, Terrasse des épices. Kate and I visited their shop supported by tourists, the community, and fans afar. They shipped locally made stools upholstered in their fabrics as far as to a restaurant in St. Barts in the Caribbean.
When I told Francoise she looks too young to be a grandmother, she shrugged, smiled, and said, “Age does not matter, right?”
“We love this country. We love the Medina. For us, Marrakesh is the Medina,” says Julien of their new` home.
Kate, who lives in Marrakesh, too, and Francoise talk local hair dressers.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
It was a great stay. I left inspired by new friends–Francoise and Julien who are beautiful examples of embracing new, exciting seasons of life–and their cool cats who know how to relax.
Thank you to Riad Dar Kleta for a peaceful haven. As always, the opinions here are my own.
The only lasting beauty is beauty of the heart. —Rumi
If I’m honest I have to tell you I still read fairy-tales and I like them best of all…For me the only things of interest are those linked to the heart. — Audrey Hepburn
When I moved to Morocco, Taj Palace (now Sahara Palace) where the movie, Sex and the City 2, was filmed, topped my Marrakesh Bucket List. I’d vowed to walk there in Carrie Bradshaw’s shoes, and as I crossed that splendid threshold, I echoed her sentiment: “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Expat friends who have lived in Australia, Asia, the Middle East, Europe, and the Americas agree that our host city offers more sumptuous, stunning respites than anywhere else in the world. As my time living here nears an end, Jasna, Ali, and I enter the gates of Palais Namaskar and another surreal experience.
We see no one, hear no one, so we follow the central walkway as long as the Yellow Brick Road toward a massive door in the distance. On the sprawling four-acre property we pass Oriental arches and epic waterways — backdrops for fashion models, blushing brides, and film stars. Is this The Emerald City or the ancient Arabia of my childhood dreams? I feel like a girl again, kick off my sandals, step off the path, and feel the grass beneath my feet. I’m no longer trying to channel Carrie Bradshaw or anyone else for that matter. After two years in Marrakesh, I’m more comfortable in my own shoes, skin, story than I’ve ever been.
We did a Palais Namaskar pool day on the recommendation of my friend, Julie. How fun it was to sashay across waterway walks, swing in a hammock, and played in the pool with friends. We climbed to the rooftop for sunset and had dinner lit by moonlight.
Inside we were greeted and shown a dressing room for changing clothes. The pool, grounds, and rooftop form a fluid sanctuary where the only sounds are lapping lakes, chirping birds in flight, and waiters scooping crushed ice from shiny silver buckets.
Thanks to Ali for the photos of me. Jasna, hiding from the camera as always, was thrilled to get a break. Love you Canadian girls!
The moon doth with delight /Look round her when the heavens are bare; /Waters on a starry night/Are beautiful and fair.–William Wordsworth
I leave knowing that beauty comes from where we choose to look — not into a mirror probing for wrinkles or blemishes nor through a magnifying glass scanning for defects in others. Wherever we are, we can find beauty, whether looking up at sunsets, down at cool waters, or around at new or familiar faces. Gazing on beauty makes us happy, and happiness makes us beautiful. Audrey Hepburn said, “Happy girls are the prettiest.”
We made memories caught on camera I’ll cherish forever. Proof I’ll show my older self that once- upon- a- time I lived in the magical Kingdom of Morocco.
For beautiful eyes, look for the good in others. For beautiful lips, speak only words of kindness; and for poise, walk with the knowledge you are never alone.–Audrey Hepburn
Joy is the best makeup.–Anne Lamott
Getting there: Book a stay at this 5-Star resort on their website or search for a deal here. Book a pool day which includes lunch here.
To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
Growing up southern, I’d hear my Mama Sargeant and Grandaddy say when they greeted the grandkids : “Give me some sugar.” A couple of weeks ago, I exchanged eighty-eight kisses Moroccan- style, one on each cheek, with forty-four sweet girls as they excitedly entered the Project SOAR gates as they do every Sunday during the school year. My students and other volunteers were all smiles and laughs, too.
Last week the last session ended the season for summer break, but sadly, for me, it was another marker of the end of my season in Morocco. Lord willing, or as Moroccans say, Inshallah, I will be teaching students in the Caribbean when Project SOAR resumes in the fall. I will miss the girls, my students who love working with them, and the wonderful people who started and sustain Project SOAR. I am forever grateful for the hospitality shown to me by Maryam and Chris and the opportunities to teach their son, Tristan, and to serve Douar Ladaam girls. I believe in Project SOAR’s mission to “empower underserved Moroccan girls through art, sports, and health education…(and to) help keep girls in school, breaking the cycle of girl marriages and early motherhood, and preparing girls to have productive and fulfilled futures.”
From afar I will continue to invite others to get involved in person or through financial support. Though it is time to be nearer my family and leave Morocco, a country I have come to love the last two years, I will carry this place, these people forever with me in my heart.
Sports instructor, Alice Elliot explains circuit training to ASM girls, Zineb and Rania, who will lead sports for the day.
My former student visiting from the US, Jessica Markwood, will being interning in Mozambique this fall. Four years ago we had just returned from a service trip where we worked with children in Ecuador.
After sports at Peacock Pavilions we walk to the Project Soar Center in the village.
Bochra Laghssais leads art class with an empowering project to make leaves for a tree that lists their personal goals and pursuits.
Last winter students Abla, Najma, and Kenza also volunteered with me. Project SOAR was chosen to pilot the Be Girl program in Morocco–the first Muslim country that is keeping girls in school by providing them with a hygienic, eco-friendly, vital product.
Both beloved by the girls are Warda Belkass and Brenda Garcia Jaramillo.
Volunteering with the girls of Project Soar has been good for students of The American School of Marrakesh as well. They love laughing and playing with the girls. Below, they demonstrated ballet moves and then asked the girls to strike a pose. I am so thankful for their beauty, innocence, and enthusiasm.
Last Monday, the temperature in Marrakech reached 108 Fahrenheit/42 Celsius making it the hottest day so far this year. Here pools can be enjoyed year-round, but in May when temps typically range in the 80s and low 90s, the burning question expats and tourists are asking is where to find a cool pool. A Mermaid in Marrakesh, I love doing this kind of research — especially at an iconic 5-star hotel. Four Seasons Marrakech offers a spa and pool pass for escape and self-care for a week or a day.
At the end of March, I returned to Morocco from spring break in Italy, packed away the down jacket I’d been wearing, and grabbed my bathing suit. Truly, the name of the world-revered brand couldn’t be truer than in the Red City. Here spring, summer, fall, and even most of winter, there’s nothing but blue skies, green gardens, and birdsongs. I relaxed by the Quiet Pool … a peaceful place for adults only.
Four Seasons Marrakech offers a safe haven and the best of all worlds… a place to gather with friends and family…a romantic retreat…a space of one’s own. The 5-star luxury resort is designed with the serene, palatial gardens of the Palmeraie yet is only minutes from the magical medina, Marrakech landmarks, and New City Gueliz. Here tourists — especially solo travelers — concerned about navigating a new city will feel secure and experience the exceptional service for which the brand is known.
True to Moroccan culture, Four Seasons Marrakech is family-friendly, so if you’re traveling with children ages 4 – 12, check out the Kids Club as well as activities for older children. Some of my best memories with my children happened while exploring the world. This is why I write guides for moms traveling with children. But I also appreciate that Four Seasons does the planning for moms and provides a family and an adult pool.
Still … Four Seasons is not only for family time, weddings, honeymoons, and anniversaries. It offers women a way to celebrate the sacred relationship we have with ourselves. I was forced to learn self-care twenty years ago when I became a single mom. It was a slow process. I started with going to movies alone, then restaurants, then a B and B annually in the Tennessee mountains. I eventually traveled solo to Costa Rica. After my children left the nest, I moved to Marrakech. Here I’ve found fulfillment in my work, new adventures, and kindred spirits. I’ve also found at Four Seasons a much-needed beauty break for the soul.
I love Veronica Shoffstall’s poem, “Comes the Dawn” (printed below). I would like to find a life partner, but I don’t wait for a honeymoon or a husband to enjoy beautiful escapes. Shoffstall writes, “Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.” In Nashville, I once had a garden of fifty roses. Here, I enjoy them, too.
Enjoy the Quiet Pool for Adults Only on a Four Seasons Marrakech Spa and Pool Pass.Four Seasons Marrakech brims with bouquets of roses that make a woman feel special.The garedns of Four Seasons Marrakech as sunshine for the soul.Enjoy a drink and a book in the shade.Perfect DayMom and Daughter robes and roses in Four Seasons Marrakech SpaFour Seasons Marrakech SpaRead more →
Making a grand entrance must have originated in Marrakech. Crossing that first threshold from the manic Medina into a roofless riad respite– blue skies or stars above—is a moment no one ever forgets. I am still thrilled every time I follow surreptitious streets snaking through the medieval city… duck archways and dodge motorbikes, donkey carts, and darting cats… then knock on a heavy wooden door that slowly swings open into a secret, peaceful place.
One of those surreal experiences when so much of what my heart loves to see, hear, taste, and touch materialized like magic. Here classic French Elegance, Hollywood’s Golden Age Glamour, and Desert Dreams meet…a rhapsody in blue.
This slideshow requires JavaScript.
Welcomed warmly by owner Alexandra Richards, I could hear past the streaming foyer fountain Mancini crooning “Moon River” to a chirping courtyard chorus. Named for the Emberiza family of birds indigenous to South Morocco and considered sacred in Marrakesh, the boutique hotel that took two years to renovate was guarded by these feathered friends. They had comforted Alexandra who moved from Melbourne and found the process, like other expats building a new home in a foreign country, fraught with frustrations. A Barrister of Queen’s Counsel, the highest appointment and level of professional recognition in Australia, the Human and Civil Rights attorney is, no surprise, a strong, smart Leading Lady of her new life. But she is also a woman of beauty, style, wit and grace and reminds me of Big Screen legends like Lauren Bacall and Faye Dunaway.
When I asked what moving to Morocco taught her, she replied:
“One thing I have learned here is to ‘never say never and never say always.’ I believe Talleyrand said this of politics and war. I would say it of everything here.”
To a musical mix of Moroccan, French, and Frank (Sinatra), I wandered the riad as slowly as the turtles who live there, delighting in the details—gorgeous artwork, antiques, bedding, and baths. As I climbed the stairs to tiered terraces, then the rooftop, I could imagine Truman Capote working or Holly Golightly playing here. Riad Emberiza Sahari is a venue for artists’ retreats, weddings and social gatherings, solo or romantic escapes, and the ultimate girls’ getaway. Offerings include excursions, cooking classes, massages, yoga, or meditation.
Alexandra and Kate, a friend who lived near her in Melbourne though they never met until each moved to Marrakech.
As darkness descended the riad became even more magical–the pool and fountains dancing, flickering, reflecting lights and candle flames to classical music. We talked at table under orange and lime trees about our love for our children and for this strange, irresistible city.
I would return months later for Kate’s birthday and always look forward to seeing Alexandra. She inspires me as a woman of reinvention, as one who followed her dream and created an oasis where others can rediscover theirs. Riad Emberiza Sahari is the manifestation of who she is and what is right with the world– a dramatically beautiful, comfortable, and peaceful place.
Alexandra: “I agree with Winston Churchill that ‘Marrakech is the most beautiful place in the world.’ But a place of great beauty AND great ugliness, a place of contrasts and contradictions. Therefore it never lets you alone and you always know you are alive.”
I spent a perfect Marrakesh afternoon recently with Brigitte, owner of Kosybar and Dar Beija, with Andrena, her longtime friend. Andrena and I were off from work for Moroccan Independence Day so we were thrilled to enjoy lunch in the sunshine. Later we walked it off through the newly refurbished Jewish Quarter to Brigitte’s beautiful boutique hotel.
Brigitte
Andrena (right)
Day or night the three-story restaurant is a gathering place. I’d been to Kosybar before, a favorite Happy Hour hangout of coworkers and other locals and expats. In a city where riad and restaurant rooftops are so close you can hopscotch your way across the skyline, Kosybar’s sunset view is one of the most unique places in town to sip and see the sky change colors. Perched in their gigantic nests just above patrons, the famous storks of El Badi Palace, began in 1578 by Arab Saadian Sultan Ahmad al-Mansur, keep watch over dusk. The tourist attraction is home now of the Marrakech Folklore Festival.
First trip to Kosybar last spring with Annie and Lexi
Through the gate below Kosybar is the El Badi Palace (below)
As we spoke over lunch, Spike, a talented and gregarious Canadian singer who fills the dance floor downstairs Thursday-Sunday nights, stopped by the table to say hi. Three other expat guests—one who had returned home but like so many others had been drawn back by the “Marrakesh spell”–did the same, giving Brigitte–a Moroccan kisses on both cheeks. She has a sensitive, sweet spirit that friends and regular customers find soothing.
Our lunch prepared by Japanese Chef Nao Tamaki was delicious–a fusion of Asian, French, and Moroccan fare. Though not usually a dessert person, I LOVED the apple turnovers. In addition to lunch, the restaurant serves a tapas menu afternoons and a dinner menu evenings. They have a full range of cocktails including a good selection of wines. The mojitos are the best I’ve tasted in town.
Goat Cheese Ravioli
Wonton Soup
Chicken Cheese Bites
Calamari
Chocolate Brownie
Apple Turnovers
It was a poignant day. Sad and shocked by the Paris bombing, Brigitte talked of the tragedy and her daughter’s decision that they keep their plans for an upcoming trip to the City of Lights. Brigitte said though it is safe in Morocco it had been quiet the last few days as it is every time such a tragedy happens. She agreed with her daughter that we can’t be ruled by fear and they should go to Paris as planned rather than cancel.
Despite disturbing world events, we so enjoyed the day we’d been given. As moms born on three continents (Andrena is Scottish), we spoke of our children. Brigitte shared some of her family history. She and her husband, Nabil, started their journey as high school sweethearts 25 years ago in Meknes. Together they attended University of South Florida in Clearwater, Schiller University, and University of Nevada in Las Vegas where they received degrees in Hotel Administration, Hospitality, and International Business. Their oldest child was born in Clearwater, the other three in Las Vegas.
They returned to Morocco and in 2005 opened Kosybar. Of her staff, she said, “We’re family.”
On the square beneath, workmen continuing renovation.
She also shared local history. The previous owner of the riad which is now Kosybar was a Jewish clockmaker. Moroccan kings have always protected Jewish residents and many pilgrimages are made here to burial sites of their saints. Many of the Jewish houses had tunnels under the city to the palace in case of attack. One of the many things I appreciate about Morocco is its historic and present tolerance of the religions of foreigners. In the Marrakesh Mellah, one of several Jewish communities in Morocco, Jewish and Muslim merchants work alongside one another. Brigitte said of her childhood: “My dad was French, and my mom was Moroccan. Her best friend was Jewish. We all grew up together.”
I remembered on the first tour I took of Marrakesh our guide began at the spice shop just across the street (below). I couldn’t believe how bright and shiny the neighborhood was compared to when I first visited—dust, exhaust fumes, and years of use washed and refinished.
Entrance to the Lazama Synogogue
Dar Beija, a boutique bed and breakfast riad
Riad rooftop with a panoramic view of the Marrakesh Medina–palaces, sanctuaries, and the Atlas Mountains
Thank you, lovely ladies, for the pleasure of good company and conversation. Truly it was an afternoon of pure peace.
Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts.–Sigmund Freud
I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses.–Charles A. Miles
Had Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé not fallen in love with Jardin Majorelle on a visit to Marrkech in 1966, one of the most famous gardens in the world would have suffered the fate Joni Mitchell lamented in “Big Yellow Taxi”: “They paved paradise and put up a parking lot.” Slated to be a hotel complex, the property was saved by the Parisian clothing designer (whose ashes are scattered in the rose garden) and his partner.
Memorial to Yves Saint Laurent
The pair pledged to complete the vision of Jacques Majorelle, a fellow artist who created the space. Mission accomplished, the urban renewal breathes life into city residents and tourists. I recently wrote of my love for gardens. I’m so grateful for this one, located just down the street in my neighborhood in Gueliz, where I find shade, shelter, green space, in the midst of a frenetic city.
The painting studio of Majorelle was convereted into a Berber museum, educating expats on the natives of Morocco, and an irrigation system installed. A legacy of art and beauty, Jardin Marjorelle is the result of one who planted, two who watered, and God who grew a creation all now enjoy.
All gardening is landscape painting.–William Kent
In 1923 French painter, Jacques Majorelle, bought land in Marrakech. He had studied architecture and was an avid amateur botanist. He was also influenced by his father, Louis Majorelle, a famous furniture designer, and the Art Nouveau movement which took inspiration from nature.
A garden must combine the poetic and the mysterious with a feeling of serenity and joy.–Luis Barragan
The composition of his masterpiece includes indigenous plants and those he gathered from his travels across five continents—palms, agaves, cacti, weeping willows, jasmine, agaves, cypress, and my favorite, cascading bougainvilleas. A paradox of serene stimulation, bursting blooms against the buildings’ primary colors—yellow and ultramarine, now known as “Majorelle blue” –energizes while the green of fauna, ripples across ponds, and whispers of fountains calms the soul.
Though Majorelle’s art exhibitions were appreciated world wide, Jardin Majorelle is considered his greatest achievement. Sadly, however, his life did not end with the serenity he gave others. An accident that took his leg and broken relationships led to financial burdens which forced him to sell much of his land and open the garden to the public for entrance fees. He died before seeing the culmination of his vision, never knowing future owners would finish what he started. Still Majorelle said of his passion project: “This garden is a momentous task, to which I give myself entirely. It will take my last years from me and I will fall, exhausted, under its branches, after having given it all my love.”
Since moving to Morocco I’ve wanted bougainvillea to spill over my balcony. Though I see it everywhere climbing buildings several stories high and have asked locals where I can buy blooming plants at least 3-feet tall, they’ve all said it is best to plant small cuttings without flowers. Finally, I felt heard. I showed a Moroccan friend exactly what I want in pots perched on a riad rooftop. I showed him the size and color, repeating I don’t want to wait… I want beautiful, large plants now, not knowing how long I’ll be here to enjoy them. He nodded, agreed, and produced three single vines. Each spindly…bud less… only inches tall. The Charlie Brown Christmas tree version of what I’d envisioned. Disappointed, I thought, I’ll probably be on another continent by the time these bloom.
But then I decided to do it the Moroccan way. No hurry. Plant. Have patience. Wait and see. Teaching should have taught me this. Whether or not I see the fruits of my labor, I’ll tend. I’ll love. I’ll bloom where I’m planted, believing life–in whatever season–is beauty.
October 2014–Moni and I at a tea hosted by my school’s Board of Directors
