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.
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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.”
Since meeting Charles Hantom and Susan Machin, Directors and Founders of Jarjeer Mules, last year at Café du Livre, I have wanted to see their sanctuary– a retirement home and nursery for aged, abandoned, and disabled equines and a learning center for visitors of all ages. See their story below of how stray dogs changed their mission from building a guest house to sheltering and rehabilitating donkeys and mules.
With a history of helping people–Charles, a retired solicitor honored by the Community Trade Union for his service to iron and steel workers and Susan, a practicing barrister, representing vulnerable adults in the UK– they now rescue animals, sharing the love by teaching empathy to children who ride the older donkeys and providing adults opportunities to be involved from near or far.
My coworker Fiona organized a van for us to travel 24 kilometers out of Marrakech toward the Atlas Mountains–a gorgeous ride. When we arrived, ten dogs, barking and tales wagging, met us at the gate. Inside twenty donkeys and four mules were having breakfast. Curious to see what we brought them for dessert, they nuzzled in to eat carrots, apples, and sugar cubes.
Above is Jerry who arrived as a tiny orphan, was attacked by a dog, but with extensive surgery and constant care survived and now thrives. Read his story and that of Alan, Sally, Tommy and the the whole herd here.
Before the ride back, we enjoyed mint tea and biscuits from a peaceful, pretty patio as puppies rolled in the grass. I have always loved the country–as a kid in Kentucky visiting family on weekends and as a newlywed living on a thoroughbred farm. I was out of practice and more skittish than the mules for fear of being kicked, but I’m really glad I went. Yet another reason to love Morocco.
“If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?” –Percy Bysshe Shelley
It’s January, and my Facebook feed is a flurry. A snowstorm has hit the US–including my home in the south– leaving all covered in white. Here temps have been in the 70s and climbed to the 80s this weekend. The Atlas Mountains that were covered in snow all last winter are bare. But on the rooftop of The Pearl, aptly named, all is winter white. At the perfect place for lunch and a panoramic view, roses, bougainvillea, and snowball bushes bloom.
Namazake, the Japanese restaurant on the top floor, serves on the terrace.
I had been here once before with my friend, Synnove, who chose the rooftop for dinner last spring. The sushi is delicious, but in this beautiful hotel just having a drink provides a feast for the eyes.
Today was a good day. On the walk home, Kate pulled me into Dino for a treat. We may not have snow, but we have ice cream.
When my niece, Emily, and nephew, Andres, said they’d be visiting me in Morocco for 48 hours, I wanted a perfect place to take them for dinner. I sought somewhere signature Moroccan — mysterious, exotic, and beautiful. A place that practices hospitality and serves a mix of traditional local and European delicious dishes. Pepe Nero Marrakech granted every desire and more.
Mysterious…The night began with the thrill of intrigue. Afraid I could never lead us through the medina, a medieval labyrinth of darkness, deserted streets, and closed shops at night, I was relieved that Chahid Essafa, truly a Customer Service Extraordinaire, said he’d send a guide to escort us. Excited, we waited in front of Café de France, mesmerized by the lanterns glowing across Jemaa el Fna square. Behind us, a man in a black suit appeared.
Pepe Nero escorts guests to the restaurant by request.
He serenely introduced himself, turned, and led the way, shielding us from errant motorcyclists as we wound around corners and down solemn streets. Only our shadows and those of a few feral cats stretched up the red clay walls as we silently walked under lamplights. Though our destination was less than ten minutes away, adrenaline flowed from the surreal setting and suspense of wondering behind which wall our journey would end.
And then Emily and Andres experienced what I love about this city. A desolate alleyway. A door swings open. Inside…paradise.
Pepe Nero is the former palace of Moroccan royalty. Guests enjoy poolside dinner at Pepe Nero Marrakech. Cindy McCain with Marrakesh guests Emily and Andres Salgado. Pepe Nero Marrakesh offers Italian and Moroccan cuisine in a former Pasha’s palace.
Beautiful…Carrara marble, cedar ceilings, and Moorish fountains transport guests to another time. We ate by the Andalusian pool flanked by flaming torches from a James Bond dream set. Trees reached for the moon—gorgeous that night—as we sat under the stars. Bougainvillea draped from the second-story balcony.
Exotic… Pepe Nero Marrakech is the restaurant within Riyad Al Moussika, the former palace of “Lord of the Atlas,” Pasha of Marrakech from 1912-1956. According to BBC, Thami El Giaoui at the time of his death “was the most powerful man in Morocco and one of the wealthiest men in the world.” Guests can rent one of six luxury suites overlooking the two lavish courtyards. Breakfast is served on the terrace rooftop overlooking the Atlas mountains.
Guest room at Pepe Nero Marrakesh
Guest suite at Pepe Nero Marrakesh Bed fit for a queen at Pepe Nero Marrakesh where royalty lived. Luxurious en suite bath at Pepe Nero
Brimming beauty at Pepe Nero Marrakesh
Haute cuisine...Guests can choose from two menus—one Moroccan, one Italian–prepared by Mr. Khalid Essafa Robazza, Cordon Bleu Chef and owner. We three went with Moroccan because When in Rome… (and Emily and Andres had just come from there). We feasted on salads and Harira Soup (a tradition), then roasted leg of lamb, lamb tagine, and Pastilla di Piccione (pigeon pie–a local delicacy). The waiters were attentive, kind, and patient as we toured the riad, Emily and I tag-teaming behind the camera.
Welcomed with fresh orange drinks Emily and Andres Salgado at Pepe Nero Marrakesh Cindy McCain and Nephew Andres Salgado at Pepe Nero. Photo by Emily Salgado. Emily Salgado at Pepe Nero Marrakesh Thrilled to be celebrating life with family at Pepe Nero Our starters at Pepe Nero Marrakesh Lamb Tagine Roasted Shoulder of Lamb
Cinnamon-glazed PastillaOur excellent server pouring mint tea Moroccan style at Pepe Nero
The food was so delicious, the dining experience so exceptional and the wine list so tempting, I returned the following week with my friend, Jasna, to try one dish off the Italian menu–lasagna that was the best I’ve had anywhere– so I could save room for dessert. As a Kentucky girl, I chose the Bourbon Vanilla Crème Brûlée with the crunch-cream topping–my new favorite dessert in all of Morocco. Pepe Nero provides complimentary cake for birthday parties. It’s a five-star dining experience at affordable prices, and I’m already looking forward to the next celebration.
Lasagna at Pepe Nero Marrakesh Best crème brulée of my life at Pepe Nero Marrakesh Pepe Nero Marrakesh Cordon Bleu Chef/Owner Khalid Essafa Robazza Gracious Manager Chahid Essafa Khalid, Member of Wonderful Waitstaff Nights to remember at Pepe Nero Marrakesh
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.
Yesterday was fun–a day where many things came full circle. At the American school where I teach, I’ve been helping seniors seeking admittance into US and UK universities write and edit their personal statement essays. They are relieved to have that step behind them. My juniors have been writing persuasive speeches which they delivered… beautifully. I am excited about my students’ progress in writing and literary analysis (my AP seniors are reading Thomas Hardy’s Tess of the d’Urbevilles–a feat for native English speakers). How far they have come since kindergarten was magnified when some tiny trick-or-treaters stopped by from the lower school. Some of the four- year- olds don’t speak English, but, like my students, they will graduate fluent in English, Arabic, and French.
Nacer
Anthony
Mehdi
Teaching in a K-12 school has more advantages than academic growth. It creates a community– of students and teachers–of all ages. Those little ones made us smile. Those juniors–sometimes characters when it’s not Halloween–make me smile, too. Seeing how gently and kindly they treated the younger children made me happy. Likewise, in the US school where I taught and my children attended K-12, I saw my son who was full of energy act as a “big brother” to four-year-olds as his senior service project (just as a high school student was to him at that age).
Trick-or-Treat in Morocco
(left) Mahmoud, Chadi
Brahim
Fadi
I wouldn’t take anything for having my kids under my roof not only at home but also at work. It meant never missing a holiday party. Now most of my coworkers live in the same apartment complex–many in my building under my same roof. The lower school teachers have been planning costumes and parties for weeks. Thursday on our ride home on the bus, Pocahontas (Emily) sang “Five Little Pumpkins” with one of her students–the daughter of our coworker–and I mentally joined in. The words flooded back as if I were singing with Jasmine (Taylor) and Hercules (Cole) in our old Volvo station wagon. Yesterday I rode to school beside Cleopatra (Julie). I marvel at the stamina, creativity, and patience it takes to parent and teach little ones, and though the Energizer Bunnies/ lower school teachers were exhausted on the ride home yesterday, their planning and work sent a lot of kids home soaring.
Yesterday as I unlocked my classroom before the Halloween games began, I thought of my grandmother. My room is an annex to the main building where my students and I have our own rose garden and birds that sing in the trees outside my open windows. My grandmother taught in a one-room, rural school house, and when I hear the roosters crow as I turn the key, I think she must have heard the same as she prepared to start each day. She taught children of all ages and said she loved it because the older ones looked after the younger students.
I’m so glad my friends, Jodie and Rachel, brought their classes by. Jodie, like me, has grown children in the US. This is her first year abroad. While at church with Rachel last year, someone mistook her baby for my granddaughter. I love that I work with people of all ages from many countries. I like that yesterday my classroom had a span of ages as did my grandmother’s. And I love that we had fun with an American holiday my grandmother celebrated with my sister and me each year.
My Dad’s first cousin, Ellen, recently sent this picture.
It was taken in Gracey, Kentucky where my grandmother had a Halloween party, wrote this warning on the wall, and stood at the top of the stairs dressed as a witch. It remains there today in what’s called The Red House. My sister and I would decorate her living room with the same black cats, skeletons, and pumpkins she had used for that party in the basement before we were born. Her words still remain in that building. She had a lot of fun. She was a lot of fun. I hope she knows that yesterday on another continent Moroccan students celebrated an American tradition and found it fun, too.
Last Saturday over 21k people were involved in a worldwide shooting. From my home in Nashville to my residence in Marrakech, participants grabbed cameras and celebrated life on photo walks in 1000 locations. To learn more about Scott Kelby’s Photo Walks go here.
Ours was scheduled in the medina to begin at 9:30 at the Café de FRANCE on Jemma El Fna square. Jon–a friend, pro artist and skilled photographer– and I met Kate, a friend from Australia who told me about the event because she had previously done a walk in Melbourne. Synnove, a Norwegian friend I met on a hike last spring, surprised me when she appeared as we were meeting Mustapha, a Moroccan tour consultant of Intrepid Travel, signed up for the walk. After mint tea and juice, we wondered where our photographer/organizer was. Kate checked online and discovered he had changed the time to 3 PM. Unable to wait or return later, we made Jon our fearless leader and were off.
After winding through wares of silver, sequins, and Sahara green pottery, we went into Ben Youssef Madrasa, a visual feast. A special treat was a place I’d been wanting to check out– The Marrakech Museum of Photography— where we saw Jean Manuel’s Portrait of Touareg, the first “photoshopped portrait,” Landrock’s Young Arab, about which I learned Tunisian boys wore jasmine behind their left ears to signify to girls they were available, and Jean Manuel’s Portrait du Tourareg, a personal favorite for a couple of years now. Our session ended at the rooftop cafe of the museum–one of the best panoramic views from within city walls. Shooting in Marrakech manually–bringing its kalidescope shapes and colors into focus– was magic. Especially because it made me feel like a kid again.
Choosing settings for the study of light and dark the souks provide. Photo by Kate Woods
Photo by Kate
Kate
Kate’s photo
by Kate of me
Said to be first “photoshopped” photo (head placed on different body)–details below
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
Love of beauty is taste. The creation of beauty is art.—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Let the beauty of what you love be what you do. ― Rumi
It is very, very difficult to feel sad for long in Morocco because you can never be alone in Morocco. You are surrounded by beauty…It really is a place, I think, that nourishes the soul.–John Pittaway
A picture from Persian poetry, gorgeous girls in red swung open a heavy, studded door. They beckoned me over a threshold for refuge from the dust, glare, and chaos of the Kasbah. Immediately taking my overnight bag, their attention turned to relieving me of the burden my face and body still carried.
“Welcome. Please sit. Would you like some tea?”
Like Dorothy, swept into a black-and-white Kansas cyclone, then dropped into Technicolor Oz, I had been disoriented by a painful situation but, upon landing in a dream, became distracted from it by beauty. The terra cotta maze of the medina had morphed into a sanctuary of ruby, aqua, green, and gold.
Riad Hikaya Marrakesh
Riad Hikaya
I had read that everything I saw on walls and floors, sat on, sat under had been designed by Jane and John Pittaway, English owners of Riad Hikaya, and handcrafted by Marrakshi artisans. I spoke with John that afternoon who studied Arabic at University and also speaks French, Spanish, and the local Moroccan dialect, Darija. Though he has lived in many parts of the Middle East including Egypt, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates before moving to Marrakech, we discussed what makes this place unique…the creativity which brims here…. the tension of chaos and tranquility…the balm of beauty that banishes bad.
By dinner on the rooftop under a full moon, I was fully settled in the Rahma suite (Arabic word for compassion) — able to breathe; to let go; to accept, see and savor the gifts of kindness and peace around me. Not only had the girls turned back my bed, sprinkling rose petals on the duvet and in the tub…not only had Fadoua fed me fresh Tabouleh, the best Lamb CousCous I’ve had, and Celebration Orange and Chocolate Cake which, trust me, is reason alone to celebrate…but Sana, at my request, stopped serving and sat down for a chat over dessert.
The next morning the moon was gone. The sun met me on the rooftop instead. After breakfast and a read in the jacuzzi, I told the girls bye. I left again grateful for the kindness of strangers-now-friends. I remembered John’s words about a 2-year planned renovation that took five years instead. So true of life in many ways: “Anything is possible…It was an interesting journey..a way of learning.”
(from the website) Rahma, (Arabic for compassion), is situated on the first floor of the riad overlooking the smaller, mirrored courtyard.The traditional bed, fashioned from tadelakt and zelij, is framed by a hand-carved ‘muqarbas’, or bedhead, with an ornate zowwaq finish. Cactus silk curtains line the tadelakt walls and frame the artisanal, wooden shutters. Hand-painted plaster motifs, soft kelim armchairs and vintage Berber carpets complete the luxurious feel.
A stay at Riad Hikaya is a dream experience.
Like everything else at Riad Hikaya, the robes are custom-designed and made locally in Marrakesh.
Spa
Hand painted tadelakt bath and a monsoon shower crafted from zelij and maillechort, a metal favoured by Marrakshi artisans which in English is known as nickel silver
Rose petals in the sink and tub create an even more luxurious bath.
Rose petals on the bed make guests feel special.
Couscous at Riad Hikaya is delicious.
Sana was a superior server.
Lighting, cacti garden, olive trees — perfect evening on rooftop under a full moon.
This delectable dessert… no words.
Pool by night
Roses fill the tub at Riad Hikaya
Laughing Without an Accent: Adventures of a Global Citizen by Firoozeh Dumas was a fun bedtime read.
Coffee in bed
Outside my room
Fresh roses are arranged daily at Riad Hikaya
Fresh fruit, pastries, and juice
A southern girl’s treat in Morocco — a huge breakfast omelet
A rooftop read in the whirlpool at Riad Hikaya
A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Its loveliness increases…it still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.–John A “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” —Keats
What a difference a day makes. Thanks to Riad Hikaya for the stay. As always, the opinions here are my own.
“The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden. If you don’t want paradise, you are not human; and if you are not human, you don’t have a soul.” –Thomas More
Enter the magical arches of Jnane Tamsna, the portal to a garden paradise souls seek.
Oh how I love this view. Jnane Tamsna is paradise.
My love of gardens began in my grandmother’s backyard. She told me the names of heirloom flowers, shrubs, and trees transplanted from her childhood home and my grandparents’ farm, Mockingbird Hill. On weekends in Marrakesh, I play in secret gardens that I read about in fairy tales, Song of Solomon, and Arabian Nights. They hide behind walls from the Medina to the Palmeraie, and I seek. The way to my dream garden is through magical arches. The entrance of Jnane Tamsna is a portal to the garden paradise souls seek.
As with all things magic, our eyes must be open. If we’re not fully present, we may miss it. The first time I went to Jnane Tamsna, my sight was blurred with tears. My heart was elsewhere. My friend, Kate, made lunch reservations for Mother’s Day as a distraction because our kids were so far away. I was also weepy because I’d missed being with my daughter on her 25th birthday.
I could see her on her 5th birthday. She and her friends were wearing wide-brimmed hats at a garden tea party that I’d planned for her since she was born. I, the “Flower Fairy,” hid pearl necklaces in fifty rose bushes and left a note instructing the girls to find them. Under our oak tree dripping with ivy, a table was topped with a bouquet of purple hydrangeas big as soccer balls. Cole, my son, was sitting in the grass under the white table cloth playing with our kitten.
A couple of weeks ago, I entered that paradise again for a longer stay. I was ready to explore the passion project of Meryanne Loum-Martin and Dr. Gary Martin recognized by press from The New York Times to Architectural Digest to Gourmet. I was drawn back to the quiet of this Edenic place of sprawling size and biodiversity for which Gary, an ethnobotanist, received recognition last March. Janane Tamsna and Villa Oasis, Madison Cox’s creation, were the only two gardens chosen for private tours by the Botanical Symposium on the Mediterranean Flora of Jardin Majorelle. I was also eager to meet expats and tell them I appreciate their commitment to the local community.
I was led to my gorgeous room to drop off luggage, then to a poolside garden where Meryanne and Gary had just finished lunch with a guest.
Tunnel vision is a beautiful thing at Jnane Tamsna. Beauty blooms about you everywhere. Sweet dreams are easy here.My gorgeous sitting area in my suite
Hello Beautiful World!
My private patio at Jnane Tamsna
My own private patio at Jnane Tamsna.
They’d been talking awhile, so as they invited me to sit, we all shifted chairs into the shade. Quickly I knew what Laura Werner meant when she wrote in Forbes, “Staying at Jnane Tamsna in the Palmeraie is like being at an extended dinner/house party.” And by the time I left, I understood why Hugh Jackman, a regular, did the Happy Dance by one of the their five pools. Privacy and peace are premium here.
Magic happens around tables set under palms and beside pools at Jnane Tamsna.
At Jnane Tamsna you can enjoy not only secret gardens but multiple secret pools
Pools and palms
Pool set for two
Pool outside a private villa
Villas for families or couples on a romantic getaway
Advocates for culture and education, they’d hosted salons where authors, such as Esther Freud (I’d read her memoir of Marrakech a year ago upon moving to Morocco) and historian William Dalrymple, had read from their works. I learned their daughter had graduated from the school where I teach, and they’d just returned from Paris early to see Suddenly Last Summer performed for a fundraiser in Tangier — the city that inspired Tennessee Williams (my favorite southern dramatist) to write it. The murder in the play segued to another book set in Savannah and gardens there I love, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. This literature lover and mother had found kindred spirits. When I told Meryanne I’d been there briefly on Mother’s Day, she completely understood. She, too, misses her children.
They headed to projects and I to the pool, where lounges like gentlemen in crisp, white dress coats joined me in saluting summer and bidding my last day of vacation goodbye.
Pool beside the dining areaJnane Tamsna Main Pool
Like smooth music, the afternoon soothed my soul. That night, the moon escorted me to dinner.
Victrola at Jnane TamsnaCurl up with a book in the shade.Snowy bougainvillea frames patios.My cup — or in this case, urn — overflows with gratitude for garden spaces.Meryanne Loum-Martin designs her table settings with the bounty from their gardens. Gazpacho made with tomatoes and basil from the gardens.
“A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in–what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.” ― Victor Hugo, Les Miserables
The next morning I woke to wander the property and gardens.
“The Venus flytrap, a devouring organism, aptly named for the goddess of love.” — Tennessee Williams, Suddenly Last Summer
Though Gary doesn’t have a Venus flytrap…yet…he has over 230 varieties on a lush list hailing from the Chilean Andes to Madagascar, from Australia to Hong Kong that continues to spread on 8.5 acres. He has accomplished his “childhood dream of a botanical garden with signs giving the common English name, Latin name, botanical family and geographical origin of species.” A walk through it taught me a lot as did his address (excerpt below) to the Botanical Symposium:
Facing nearly nine acres of water-stressed palm grove, I first set out to create our own organic orchard garden (arsa) where the scent of orange blossoms and mint could waft around colorful aubergines, kale, tomatoes and many other vegetables. Then I put in a border of transplanted olive trees – part of the ‘rescue horticulture’ I practice, saving fruit trees from areas of urban sprawl elsewhere in Marrakech. This created a pathway to our bustan (Arabic for garden from a Persian word that means ‘a place of smell’), which is resplendent with angel trumpets, Japanese mock orange, white iceberg roses and climbing jasmine.
Every bustan needs its water feature, and ours is a zen swimming pool where guests can take a dip before enjoying lunch in the garden, shaded by prolific date palms and mulberry trees. Our two interior courtyard gardens (ryads) feature frangipani, gardenias and star jasmine as well as some rapidly growing olive trees with native viburnums and Mediterranean ruscus in their understory.
pomegranate
On that morning walk I heard in my memory my grandmother humming her favorite hymn: “I come to the garden alone. While the dew is still on the roses…” I thought of a favorite quote by Emma Goldman, “I’d rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck,” and saw my daughter at five, plucking pearls from roses. And I realized that when I am present and thankful for now–even when missing my children on Mother’s Day–I can receive beauty and thus feel them there with me. And when I stop fretting about future plans and dwell in the now– of birds having breakfast with me or the moon looking down upon me and those I love a continent away, peace is no mirage. It’s an oasis in the desert.
Thank you to Jnane Tamsna for my stay. As always, opinions are my own.
Happy January!
