Marrakesh, Pt. I: The Riad

Hello, invisible readers all! Sorry it's been a wee while since we've last spoken, but many things have been afoot here at La Casa de Melville. Amidst a flurry of distinct unpleasantness (which I see no reason to get into here), two good friends and I finally put up (rather than shut up) and took a trip we've been talking about, quite literally, for YEARS.

When I first moved to Aberdazzle for my MLitt at the University, I fell in with a lovely and lively group of geologists (not as hard as it sounds in the oil capital of Europe) and during the endless nights of drinking too much and laughing too loudly, a plan was formed. It wasn't much of a plan-- in fact, all the plan consisted of was going to Morocco. Marrakesh, we figured, was a good bet as it wouldn't be as political at Rabat or as religious as Fez. Someday, we promised each other, someday we'd go and drink tea and eat couscous and buy scarves.

Someday just happened to be last Saturday. Alpha picked me up outside my door at a quarter to ten in the morning and we zipped speedily down south to Edinburgh Airport (a nice little place and decidedly more full of useful shops than the Aberdazzle Airport) where we mutually confessed never thinking this trip would actually happen. Especially with all the unrest in North Africa in the past few months, each of us figured one of the other ones would get cold feet and pull out and then the whole plan would flop like a house of cards. Apparently emboldened by each other's waiting and general game-ness, this never came to pass and thus we found ourselves boarding a Ryanair* flight direct from Edinburgh to Marrakesh. Handbags shoved in cabin baggage, we sat and chatted about what we actually wanted to DO once we got there. Turns out, we were essentially as laid back as the next person. See what I meant about the plan? Alpha and I had mentioned on the drive down that, for as long as we've been talking about this trip, we'd not actually done any research or planned anything to do while there. So, splitting two guide books between the three of us (the Lonely Planet Morocco (Country Guide) being one of them) we perused perspective restaurants and cafes and museums and gardens and utterly unpronounceable streets. This passed most pleasantly the majority of the 3.75 hour flight.

Upon landing, we cleared customs and then faced our next two hurdles almost simultaneously: exchanging currency and finding the person sent to meet us from our Riad. Alpha and I had figured on changing money via a cash machine at the airport while Lulls had gotten a few hundred Dirhams at Edinburgh Airport. Therefore, she scouted about for someone holding a sign for Riad Les Trois Palmiers while Alpha and I waited in line for what turned out to be the only functioning ATM in the entirety of the airport. Our flight had arrived early, and thus we waited anxiously in the main hall of the airport for someone, anyone, to hold an appropriate sign. We found a man holding a sign simply saying "JESUS" but he'd been waiting there even long than we had.

Lulls, who had been the one to confirm all the details with the people at the Riad attempted calling and eventually found another Riad guide who informed us that we had the wrong number for ours but that they were on our way. Not a terribly auspicious start, but as soon as we relocated to the foot of a large sign, a gentleman with just what we'd been looking for walked up, smiled, and welcomed us to Marrakesh. He then walked us directly to a microscopic tan taxi with no seatbelts and a driver who only spoke French who drove us with great speed and skill into the Medina: we'd arrived.

There were motorcycles, motorized bicycles and scooters a'go-go, driven speedily by men in business suits, boys in joggers and women strapped with infants alike. The window was rolled down, and the late afternoon sunshine air played havoc with my hair and I felt myself grinning like an idiot. There was a scent of orange blossoms heavy on the breeze and I giggled involuntarily. It was better than I had imagined.

We were rather unceremoniously off-loaded at the mouth of a street we would later learn was Dar al Bacha. We'd also later learn that the reason there was a stand of police there as well was because the Royal Abode was right there on the corner as well. We waited nervously with our bags at out feet for someone to tell us what to do next. Turns out, ours was but one of the parties being collected from the airport that afternoon, and once we were all together we headed off to the Riad.

Down Dar al Bacha past shop windows and stands selling fabulous wares, left at a convenience stall which seemed to have a small selection of everything under the sun, and then into a maze of tiny, bending streets between towering walls of pink clay. Later we'd navigate them on our own, but I'm endlessly thankful to the staff of the Riad that, for the first time getting there, we had a guide. But then we were at a door flanked by two metalwork lanterns and the door opened to us.

Night-time and the moon on the rise from the rooftop terrace of Riad Les Trois Palmiers

We set down our bags and took in this gorgeous new setting in which we'd found ourselves. One of the members of our new-found excellent staff gave us a tour of the premises and afterwards I scampered back down to the room, fetched my camera from out my handbag and beat feet back to the rooftop to drink in the skyline and the night air. The minaret you can see in the photo, dear reader, is that of the old school of the Ali ben Youssef Medersa. Once we'd found the air a bit cool, we headed back inside and down to dinner.

Upstairs hallway overlooking central courtyard.

Door to our bedroom

 There were several different bedrooms around the establishment, mostly with double beds, some even in little private and secluded rooms on the rooftop. Ours, however, was on the ground floor and through these impressive doors. The deadbolt you can see, dear readers, is completely and totally functional.

Three beds for we three tired travellers

 The mattresses were firm, the sheets cool and the pillow cases of excellent thread count. To say I was pleased would be a massive understatement.

Ceiling of the bedroom with this nifty and highly illuminating lamp

Bathroom, complete with Boots bag from the shop in the airport

 The shutters open onto stained glass and metal work, but for privacy and decency we kept them shut. Just out of frame to the right was the enormous open shower which had phenomenal water pressure. Much, much appreciation.

Les Trois Palmiers... makes sense

 The central courtyard had these three substantial palm trees, beneath which we sat and had both dinner and breakfast on a few occasions (though not at the same time). Off this was the kitchen and various sitting rooms with low slung chairs, benches with many, many cushions and the french-speaking television, I think.

Beautiful seating in the atrium

Everything was crisp and clean and cool and intricately carved. I could have sat here for an age, honestly.

Looking up

The view looking up at the internal hallways from the aforepictured seating. Our door is just barely visible beneath the arch.

Plunge pool and mosaic backsplash

The most I did was dip a foot into it, but this little plunge pool is fully functional, and a godsend I would imagine for the summer visitors. Imagine floating about in comfort while the staff furnish you with endless pots of sweet mint tea... le sigh.

Further mornings saw us venture out and do all sorts of shopping in the souks, but here's a selection of further images from within our gorgeous habitation:

In the entryway-- how stunning are the gladiolas?! And umbrellas for guest use? Perfection!

Fountain with basin and mosaic backsplash on an upstairs landing.
No water in it now, but something tells me, come summer...

The tops of Les Trois Palmiers

How fabulous is this stairwell?!? The soft, curving lines of the plaster against
the geometric patterns of the lampwork and rugs was fantastic.

That upstairs hallway again, but in daylight this time.
Isn't the snug at the end the most comfortable place to share a secret in the history of secret-sharing?

Rooftop terrace

A lemon on a lemon tree? Yes, please!

Another fabulous snug where we drank mint tea one afternoon and played gin rummy.
Yeah, we're that cool.

Detail of the gin rummy snug ceiling

Another ideal spot for confidences

"What are you doing?" "Sneaking." Sneaky Lulls!

 Watch this space for further details on the grand henna adventure, dinner, gardens, souks and museums galore... oh, also FOOD!

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*: Please don't take this as an endorsement of this particular budget airlines-- They've screwed me over in the past and frankly, you get what you pay for, so... not a whole lot. They're bastards, but they'll (most of the time) get you from one place to another.