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Jnane Tamsna Is The Garden Paradise Souls Seek

September 3, 2015April 23, 2023Cindy McCain

Updated on April 23, 2023

“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

Entrance arches at Jnane Tamsna — Enter the magical arches of Jnane Tamsna, the portal to a garden paradise souls seek.

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.

Jnane Tamsna suite — Sweet dreams are easy here.

Sutie at Jnane Tamsna — My gorgeous sitting area in my suite

Patio at Jnane Tamsna — Hello Beautiful World!

Private patio at Jnane Tamsna — My private patio at Jnane Tamsna

Jnane Tamsna patios — 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.

Table set at Jnane Tamsna — Magic happens around tables set under palms and beside pools at Jnane Tamsna.

HIdden pools and gardens at Jnane Tamsna — At Jnane Tamsna you can enjoy not only secret gardens but multiple secret pools

Jnane Tamnsa pool and two chairs — Pool set for two

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.

Main pool at Jnane Tamsna — Pool beside the dining area

Like smooth music, the afternoon soothed my soul. That night, the moon escorted me to dinner.

victrola at Jnane Tamsna — Victrola at Jnane Tamsna

Jnane Tamsna lounge on patio — Curl up with a book in the shade.

bougainvillea at Jnane Tamsna — Snowy bougainvillea frames patios.

pottery at Jnane Tamsna — My cup — or in this case, urn — overflows with gratitude for garden spaces.

table setting at Jnane Tamsna — Meryanne Loum-Martin designs her table settings with the bounty from their gardens.

Gazpacho made with tomatoes and basil from the gardens of Jnane Tamsna. — **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.

purple seating outdoors in Jnane Tamsna gardens

Jnane Tamsna garden walkways are lined with olive trees

Rancho Tambor Agave from Oaxaca, Mexico at Jnane Tamsna

Perfect Pomegranate at Jnane Tamsna — 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.

Luxury Tent Experience…Camping in the Country

June 17, 2015February 10, 2020Cindy McCain

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

Beef fillet with mashed potatoes, apples, and apricots

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.

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.

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

For the Manzil La Tortue picture gallery, go here.

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

A New Perspective

April 25, 2015August 12, 2015Cindy McCain

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.”–Henry Miller

Sundays are delicious days. Finally, the work-weary can feast on time. We say of Monday, the most unpopular day of the week, we’ll “hit the ground running.” We lament that until the weekend we “won’t have time to turn around.” But today I do. And I did.

In Nashville, Sundays began on my deck under my grandmother’s quilt. In the trees I’d rest, recharge and remember. There God lifted my gaze from problems to possibilities. I’d later walk Ella, ready to face the world again with faith, love, and hope. As if she’d never seen the familiar greenway, she’d strain at the leash leading me. I’d, too, with new eyes, see panoramic beauty on our path.

In Marrakech, today began on my balcony in a handmade chair delivered on the back of a motor scooter. My feet propped on a pouf under a Moroccan wedding quilt, I was reminded in my quiet time of the same promises. But this time my chair faced a different direction.

Last August when I stepped on my new balcony, I took a quick look down the alley both ways. At one end I saw cluttered buildings and satellite-covered rooftops. On the lower end, nearer my apartment, I saw pretty palm trees, green space, and hills in the distance. I loved that view and have looked that way each time I stepped outside since.

But today, I looked the other way.

I couldn’t believe it. There they were. My favorite site in Marrakech–The Atlas Mountains–strong and beautiful, peered back at me as I stood, amazed. Though hidden behind summer heat and sand when I moved in, they must have shown themselves last winter. They had been there all along. For months I could have enjoyed them on clear days, if only I’d looked a different way.

Two years ago, my friend, Kim, gave me this Marcel Proust quote on a porcelain plaque. Neither of us knew I’d be moving to a French- speaking country: “Le véritable voyage de découverte ne consiste pas à chercher de nouveaux paysages, mais à avoir de nouveaux yeux.” Translated, it means, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”

A friend asked yesterday what I’ve learned most since the move. I said I realize now that understanding people and places takes time. That just when I couldn’t be happier and think I have this thing of living cross-culturally “all figured out,” a situation or person disappoints me and I feel I’ve slipped back to square one. But if I take a breath–my yoga class helps with this–release, pray, I realize I just need to step back. To wait and watch. To be patient with circumstances and others. And with myself.

Sometimes we find beauty, as I did, at the end of the street and are satisfied to stop looking for more. Contentment is good and being thankful for what we do have even better. Settling is not. Knowing the difference is hard. Sometimes we aren’t ready to see something even better–wouldn’t recognize it–even if it appeared. Others we scan the horizon in faith, in expectation for a vision for our life, a deep desire, a dream planted in our hearts long ago to be fulfilled. Today before stepping outside I was reminded though parts of the vision I have for my life tarry, to wait. What I desire may be years away or right around the corner. In the meantime, I’m thankful for my destiny and this day.

I’m still thankful for the pretty patch of green at the end of the street that continues to soothe me. The sun sets there. But I’m amazed to see today that it rises over the majestic Atlas Mountains, symbols of strength, gifts of beauty, within my vision. With patience, they revealed themselves when I looked up in a new direction. When I could see.

Pampered Like a Princess at Royal Mansour Spa

April 13, 2015April 22, 2023Cindy McCain

Updated on April 22, 2023

I did it. I bared all to be pampered like a princess at Royal Mansour Spa. I was bathed like a baby. And I liked it.

Marrakesh Must-dos for a Girl’s Day Out are what I call the 3 Ss — souk shopping, Jemaa el- Fnaa Square, and a scrub. By day, the largest market in Africa hops with henna and monkeys and snakes, Oh My. And by night, pop-up food stands serve with a shake (aka) belly dancers. But to really Go Moroccan, after a day of dodging noisy motorcycles, pushy peddlers, and some pungent smells, globe trotters can wash away a world of care.

For locals through the ages, public bathhouses, like those found in Turkey and Rome, are places to steam to release steam weekly. Those covered head-to-toe on the street disrobe and socialize here, but for those too shy to go public with strangers, private spas and hotels are ways to test the waters.

My first two hammams were with three friends at two different private spas. While those experiences were good, this Goldilocks found the third bed at my last close encounter—the slab of stone on which the washing takes place—to be just right. It’s not surprising that at Royal Mansour Spa, a luxurious mini medina of private riads built by the king’s decree, one will receive regal treatment. The spa is open to the public for those wanting to splurge.

Up to a party of six can receive hammams simultaneously. I went solo, but a party it was nevertheless. Whether your fantasy is to be Jasmine preparing for Aladdin in Arabian Nights, or a mom, who after years of bathing little ones and watching the Disney version gets to rediscover her own child within, letting go under waves of water is wonderful.

First I was given a plush robe and slippers to walk from the dressing room to the entrance of the hammam across the hall. At the cold pool where the hammam begins and ends, the attendant took the robe from my shoulders and led me to a warm, king-sized slab of stone. She filled a silver bucket of water from a beautiful basin, poured it on me, and left me to stretch out and steam.

Stone bed and silver bucket — My stone bed and silver bucket

Next, she lathered me with black soap and olive oil, sabon beldi, and left me as my skin became more supple for what was to come. Slippery like a seal or mermaid, I waited, till it was time for her to scrub off my scales.

She untied a gold bag that contained an exfoliating glove or kese. She told me to turn over and sanded my back side from scalp to heels, then my front side from forehead to toes, taking layers of peeled skin till silk was exposed underneath. Next, she covered me in local Argan oil with honey from the Maroc Maroc line. On my face, she used a mix of Argan oil and powder. I was rubbed with aromatic Vallée des Roses cream, and on my hair, she used almond shampoo, then an orange masque for conditioner. More buckets of warm water.

We walked back toward the frigid pool for a final dip, but first, she instructed me to take a tepid shower with multiple nozzles. Wrapping me in the robe, she led me to the “relaxing room” where I had my own tented bed to sip mint tea served by the waiter. Or was he just a dream?

Mint tea and a bed to rest on at Royal Mansour

Like Scarlet O’Hara at the Wilkes’ picnic, I was encouraged to nap. Unlike her I obeyed. Outside my curtain, birds sang about the balcony. After my rest, I sat by the pool and thought about how good it felt to feel be like a little girl again. Arms raised and lowered to be dressed and undressed. Back massaged, and my hair caressed. I left smelling of oranges, roses, and almonds. And feeling pretty.

Thank you, Royal Mansour, for the invitation to tour your haven and for the hammam. Indeed, the experience was a whole new world.

Congrats Marrakech for Being Named 2015 #1 Travel Destination in the World

April 11, 2015August 13, 2015Cindy McCain

I’m back in Marrakech where sidewalks in my neighborhood are crowded with tourists (Nashville, think CMA Music Festival Fan Fare). And this party is just getting started! While I was in Paris, Russia, and Prague (pics below) during Spring Break, my new city made big news. What a perfect place for a travel blog. 🙂

Congrats, Marrakech, for being voted the #1 DESTINATION IN THE WORLD! Check out TripAdvisor’s Top 25 Picks. If you have travel questions about Marrakech or places I’ve been (ones for which I’ve posted pics below), please post in a comment. From the list below, my next destination pick is Budapest. What about you? Please share YOUR next stop/ travel plans for 2015. Top 25 destinations

1. Marrakech, Morocco

2. Siem Reap, Cambodia

3. Istanbul, Turkey

4. Hanoi, Vietnam

5. Prague, Czech Republic

6. London, United Kingdom

7. Rome, Italy

8. Buenos Aires, Argentina

9. Paris, France

10. Cape Town Central, South Africa

11. New York City, United States

12. Zermatt, Switzerland

13. Barcelona, Spain

14. Goreme, Turkey

15. Ubud, Indonesia

16. Cusco, Peru

17. St. Petersburg, Russia

18. Bangkok Thailand

19. Kathmandu, Nepal

20. Athens, Greece

21. Budapest, Hungary

22. Queenstown, New Zealand

23. Hong Kong, China

24. Dubai, United Arab Emirates

25. Sydney, Australia

Royal Mansour Where Guests Get Regal Treatment by King’s Decree

March 15, 2015April 27, 2023Cindy McCain

Updated on April 22, 2023

*It’s no surprise that Royal Mansour was chosen for the first season of Amazing Hotels: Life Beyond the Lobby which you can see here. A free episode clip is here.

Elegant and beautiful. Mysterious and still. Oh, Resplendent Respite.

When I accepted an invitation to visit the Royal Mansour, I didn’t realize I’d be entering a sumptuous city handmade on command. King Mohammed VI commissioned over 1000 artists from Marrakech, Fez, Meknes, and Essaouira to use the finest materials in crafting the showcase of Moroccan splendor which opened in 2010. Here guests are guided ot to rooms but to fifty-three regal riads. With one to four bedrooms, the three-story mansions boast butlers and rooftop pools.

Hidden behind the 13th-century walls of the Marrakech medina, Royal Mansour was fashioned after the medinas of all the imperial cities of Morocco with its courtyards, winding streets, and great gates. Cedar, metal, and sculptured plaster construct an entrance like the famous “Bab el Khemis” (Thursday Gate) promising happiness, wealth, and prosperity. Inside is North African, Spanish, and Portuguese traditional Moorish architecture.

Here every desire is anticipated. A white-gloved hand offers a straw on a china tray for fresh-squeezed orange juice. A plush robe is lifted from my shoulders, then hung on a hook to prepare me for the hammam. As if with a sixth sense, staff appeared when needed and discreetly disappeared to allow me to roam the riad and relax for hours in the spa.

Most impressive, they protect the privacy of their guests. Unlike some in the service industry who use VIP labels to create a place “to see and be seen,” Royal Mansour offers a hidden haven for government officials, diplomats, and celebrities. The large staff including 24-hour maid service, valets, and cleaners move surreptitiously through underground passageways so the world above is kept quiet. The goal is for guests to feel they are the only ones there unless they wish to interact in public areas, such as the restaurants under the supervision of Yannick Alléno. Last month the legendary Parisian chef won 3 stars in the 2015 Michelin Guide.

Alléno says his objective for La Grande Table Marocaine is “to give the Moroccan cuisine, already great by itself, a new dimension.” And of La Grande Table Française, under the same roof, he offers “a creative, structured, sensitive and modern cuisine. The menu was created in accordance with local raw materials using leading Moroccan products such as spider crab, Moroccan black truffles, lobster, or veal.”

You can have your own royal wedding here as well as experience many other events. Royal Mansour loves children so there are many options for parents. And resident or not on the property, you can learn at signature workshops open to the public.

I was invited to Royal Mansour three times to take Beauty Breaks for the Soul. I played Monet and studied my subject — a masterpiece —in the morning, noon, and night light while touring, lingering at La Table for breakfast with a friend, and enjoying a hammam. Each time I entered, attentive, amiable staff members welcomed me. Each time I left every sense felt energized.

Birds, fountains, basins, and breezes. Hot marble. Cold marble. Steam rooms, cool pools, and sheets.

Trees dripping olives, lemons, and pomegranates. Gardens of roses, gardenias, jasmine, and rosemary.

Follow me and experience Royal Mansour…

Royal Mansour, Marrakech — Another world awaits at Royal Mansour Dress by Max & Jan

La Grande Table Marocaine, Royal Mansour Marrakech — La Grande Table Marocaine

Breakfast at La Table, Royal Mansour Marrakech

One big reason I moved to Marrakech was for warmth, and I don’t just mean the sunny skies. I grew up in a culture of Southern hospitality. In Nashville, like many, I take pleasure greeting friends with a hug or kiss and serving guests on fine china under my magnolia tree.

Here Moroccans greet one another with kisses on each cheek. Waiters don’t rush you from the table by bringing the check. They wait for you to ask for it because they don’t want to intrude whether you are socializing with friends or family or traveling solo. Moroccans observe tea time as do the British but with a French- flare- for- fancy as they pour the hot mint brew from silver pots into decorative glasses. Though

Thank you, Royal Mansour, for your hospitality and exotic brand of charm. Readers, as always, opinions here are my own.

Spring Planting and a Wild Ride

March 11, 2015August 12, 2015Cindy McCain

At my home in Nashville, Tennessee my favorite room had no walls. On my second-story deck my kids and pets would swing and I’d grill dinner most every night. Every day started under the trees with coffee, a Quiet Time, writing until heat drove me inside. I taught three streets from my school and Friday nights Wildcats would swing by after the game. The first night my nest emptied, I cooked Italian for the salsa girls, serving sangria under the stars so I wouldn’t fall apart after delivering my son to university. From here Precious the Persian and Ella the lab mix watched squirrels play tag in the yard below and on branches above.

At my apartment in Marrackesh I have a balcony. From here I can see people, mountains, and pink sunsets. From here I can host friends. On my deck were herbs for cooking and flowers for hummingbirds. Since moving to Morocco in August, I’ve longed for green and pink, yellow and white blooms…LIFE… outside the glass doors sliding open to a balcony extending from my bedroom to living area. Finally I found a “plant guy.”

His name is Rachid and his stand is located across from the Koutoubia Mosque across from Jemma-el Fnaa. He gave deals to my friend, Jasna, and me. On Sunday he was out of some of what we wanted, but said if we came back the next day he’d have those plants and more. Monday after work he greeted us like old friends. And he had exactly what I wanted– yellow, pink and white jasmine, lavender, rosemary, mint, thyme, and geraniums. While I pointed placement, he and a coworker planted them in ceramic urns that took two men to carry. Best of all– he delivers for free. But when I showed him the address, he said through another game of charades, (the one we’d played when I chose and he priced the plants), that he didn’t know the place, so he and his driver would follow our directions.

“So you have a truck and want us to get a taxi?”

He shook his head no and motioned in a Meet- the- Parents -Robert -De -Niro- Circle- of- Trust- gesture that we were to go with them.

“With the plants? But in what? Where is your delivery truck?”

I realized it was behind me as they began loading into a cart balanced on two wheels pulled by a motorcycle. “He wants us to ride with the plants,” Jasna said. But where? I wondered since the cart was about full, and he had disappeared. “Voila,” he said, producing two plastic chairs for us to sit in and offering his hand in a your-carriage-awaits way. So, giggling, we climbed in. Knowing he had to help the driver carry the urns and we had no more room in the cart that seemed destined to dump us onto Mohammed V as we made our way to Gueliz, we asked where Rachid would sit. He jumped on the bike’s running board by the driver, balancing himself with the cart. A man steadied the cart and launched us into traffic that terrorizes tourists. Most swear they’ll never be caught dead in it…for fear they”ll be caught dead in it. A boy on a bike riding amidst the motorcycles, cars, and taxis hung onto us whether to steady us or hitch a ride I’m not sure.

(As I write this I shiver thinking about earlier tonight. Two teens on a motorcycle cut around a curve as I crossed the street. Swerving close to scare me or just being boys, they lost control and the bike skidded out from under them, then slid on its side across the street. I was one step from being taken down in the wreck. They got up, laughed, and walked it off the road. I was thankful no one was killed.)

But riding home in the back of that cardboard covered cart, all I could think was I was thankful to feel so alive. Drivers must have wondered who was laughing on a Monday night from behind all the branches and blooms.

International Women’s Day

March 7, 2015August 12, 2015Cindy McCain

International Women’s Day will be held again on March 8. Since 1911 the annual celebration recognizes women past, present, and future for their economic, political and social achievements as the United Nations calls for greater equality. This year’s theme is “Make It Happen,” and Project SOAR is doing just that in Marrakech.

The non-profit now not only serves girls at Peacock Pavilions but also has opened doors to women at a new center in the Dourar Ladaam village. Here local women can take health and fitness courses like the one offered last Thursday. Led by internationally recognized Pilates instructor, Mareile Paley, the course was translated by two of my students into Darija, Moroccan Arabic.

We all had so much fun making new friends and trying new moves. By the end of class we discovered we’d communicated in the same language throughout. Laughter.

To support International Women’s Day, go here. To support Project SOAR, go here.

Cupid Crawl from Riad Mur Akush to La Maison Arabe

February 17, 2015November 12, 2018Cindy McCain

Each day for six months has been nothing but new. My only constant has been change. Even traditions–Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve—were celebrated in first-ever ways. St. Valentine’s Day 2015 I climbed with friends to a riad rooftop supported by 300-year-old walls. New chums encircled by the snowy Atlas Mountains, we sat sleeveless on a sunny summit above the Marrakech Medina. Good company, fabulous food, pure peace.

My friend, Kate, was our hostess for lunch at Riad Mur Akush which she manages. New to Morocco, too, she moved here from Melbourne. I met her and Maria, the English owner, at an InterNations mixer last fall. Kate had flown from an empty nest and we meet regularly to share stories of our second acts. This time, rather than meeting for dinner at a restaurant in our neighborhood, I asked if we could do lunch at her workplace. I love riads–traditional Moroccan houses or palaces. For privacy, rooms open to interior gardens or courtyards with flowing fountains or tiled pools. Most of the riads serve meals only to guests, so I knew friends would love to spend an afternoon in such a pretty place.

Always about beauty breaks and exploration, I added: “Maybe we could visit other riads, too?”

She loved the idea and made it happen. “We could do a Riad Crawl like the pub crawls in Australia! I’ll speak to our cook and get back with you on a menu.”

And with that, what we hope to make a new tradition began. Since she had a full house for the holiday, she said we’d start small on the roof. Later when too hot to be up there, we’d move downstairs to accommodate more.

I’ll be interviewing Kate soon on her reinvention and our meal—a fusion of Moroccan and Australian cuisine. Some left with plans to book family who visit; some to take a stay-cation there themselves. All needed Cupid’s wings because we were too full to walk home. But we had a second stop, Le Maison Arabe, the oldest and largest riad/boutique hotel in the Medina where Kate had arranged for us a tour and coffee.

We were greeted by their friendly staff, the sounds of fountains draining into the pool, the smell of cedar, and the feel of a 1940s jazz club. Some plan to try their cooking classes and others their spa which, unlike wellness centers in many riads, is open to the public.

Thanks, Kate, Riad Mur Akush, and La Maison Arabe for sharing the love on February 14th with seven newcomers to Marrakech.

(from left) Laurie, Jasna, Rachel, Eliza, Jon, Sylvie

Chicken, olives, and preserved lemons in a tagine

Kate’s Apple Crisp served with fresh cream and cinnamon

Next stop…La Maison Arabe.

La Mamounia Marrakech inspiring artists for 100 years

La Mamounia’s Love Affair With Artists for 100 Years

February 9, 2015June 22, 2024Cindy McCain

Updated on April 27, 2023

Update: La Mamounia’s love affair with artists has lasted 100 years! The luxury hotel provides a Beauty Break for the Soul and is a Muse to many. Congratulations, La Mamounia, for making the Condé Nast Traveler Gold List in 2022 and Condé Nast Traveler Readers’ Choice Award in 2018 for “Best Hotel in the World.” I’ll never forget an afternoon when you gave a southern girl living in Marrakech an early spring.

Winter in Marrakesh is usually shorter and milder than in most places, but I was ready for it to be gone. I needed a Beauty Break. Badly. I’m not talking about a manicure, makeover, fancy frock, or new ‘do. I’m talking about the kind of beauty we find in creation — nature spun by God and art fashioned by man. I needed an artist date so I took a ten-minute ride to La Mamounia. I’d read about its splendor — the architecture, history, and drama — that make the luxury hotel a masterpiece. Also, La Mamounia’s love affair with artists has lasted 100 years.

As much as I love to write on weekends, I needed inspiration. Julia Cameron convinced me long ago in The Artist’s Way that in order to create something, we need “artist dates.” She says, “Creativity lies in paradox: serious art is born from serious play.” Likewise, Clive Matson said in Let the Crazy Child Write! that our best work comes from our subconscious — our inner child — and that child needs room to roam. In Tennessee, my artist dates were walks beside a lake or weekends where I’d marvel at the massive arches and stained glass of a Gothic cathedral hidden in the mountains. I’d return home refreshed and write with clarity. Poet John Keats was right: “Beauty is truth, and truth is beauty. That is all ye know on earth and all ye need to know.”

Looking up at blue and out at green is what we all need. Studies show that workplace productivity increases when employees have windows with views. Natural light and green space reduce stress and boost morale. The University of Washington lists many benefits of going green, including alleviating symptoms of Alzheimer’s, dementia, stress, and ADD. Nature breaks also enhance cognitive, imaginative, and social functions.

From the moment I entered the gates, I was energized by the warm staff, gorgeous gardens, soothing waters, and palatial design. La Mamounia quenched my thirst for spring with fountains of blessings. Everywhere you look, beauty brims here.

La Mammounia Marrakech — Hope springs eternal at La Mamounia Marrakech

Focus on Beauty La Mamounia Marrakech — La Mamounia invites guests to focus on beauty.

La Mamounia Marrakesh doorway — La Mamounia’s love affair with artists has lasted 100 years. No wonder, because the property is a portal to an exotic, creative world.

La Mamounia Marrakesh terrace — La Mamounia Marrakesh Terrace

Artists have been drawn to Morocco for its natural beauty and creative culture for centuries. For the last one hundred years, La Mamounia is where superstars have stayed … Nelson Mandela, Charlie Chaplin, Kirk Douglas, Omar Sharif, Sean Connery, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese, Ronald and Nancy Reagan, Nicole Kidman, Kate Winslet, Tom Cruise, Gwyneth Paltrow, Jennifer Aniston, Orlando Bloom, Salma Hayek.

Until 1923, La Mamounia was the palace of Prince Moulay Mamoun, son of Sultan Sidi Mohamed Ben Abdellah, ruler of Marrakech in the 18th century. Guests are still treated like royalty and rock stars (and yes, Elton John and The Rolling Stones slept there, too).

While directing Doris Day and Jimmy Stewart in The Man Who Knew Too Much at La Mamounia, Alfred Hitchcock, the King of Thrillers, was inspired to make the movie The Birds. Judging from the way a flock of fine, feathered friends eyeballed me from orange trees while I had lunch on the terrace, I understand why.

Palm trees reflected in a Glass of wine on La Mamounia Terrace — Astronomer Galileo Galilei discovered that Earth orbits the sun and not the other way around. He also said, “Wine is sunshine held together by water.” While sipping a Chardonnay on the La Mamounia Marrakesh terrace, I saw beauty reflected in the glass and all around me. Beauty Breaks for the Soul remind us that all is right with the universe.

Bird at La Mamounia Marrakech — Alfred Hitchcock was inspired to write The Birds here.

Desserts La Mamounia Pool Buffet — La Mamounia Pool Buffet

Cacti and Succulent Garden La Mamounia Marrakesh

orchard at La Mamounia Marrakesh — Orchard at La Mamounia Marrakesh

Garden Path La Mamounia Marrakesh — Down the Garden Path

Winston Churchill said Marrakesh was “the Paris of the Sahara” and “the most beautiful place on earth.” He loved painting at La Mamounia. Con Coughlin reported in The Telegraph, that Churchill invited President FDR to meet him there where they made history.

Art Deco Bar La Mamounia Marrakesh — Art Deco Bar

Art Deco La Mamounia Marrakesh — 1920s Art Deco Design at La Mamounia Marrakech

Art Deco at La Mamounia — Plush Art Deco Seating at La Mamounia

Southern Girl Gone Global at La Mamounia Marrakech

From the La Mamounia Marrakech Gardens — A romantic bouquet from the gardens is fitting. La Mamounia’s love affair with artists has lasted 100 years.

Cindy McCain Southern Girl Gone Global at La Mamounia Marrakech

We are art, spun from the hand of the Creator. Made in His image, we get pleasure from creating, too. I learned at home in Tennessee that sometimes writers need to close their laptops and go find pretty. I found inspiration then in paintings hanging on the Frist Center walls, in light reflected off Old Hickory Lake, and in woods surrounding a Monteagle B and B. I now live in Marrakesh where beauty energizes me on a grand scale. No hotel I’ve seen thus far compares to this.