| Travel |
Almost two weeks into our multi-city vacation, I turned to my boyfriend and asked if he was homesick. He nodded. That was 20 minutes before we landed in Marrakech.
At 5pm where the magic hour descends, we checked into La Sultana where we were lavishly enthroned upon their rooftop lounge pads with a winning view of the hazy Atlas Mountains. I found a quick second to pinch myself. We were hosted in one of the exclusive five riads within the Kasbah.
This time, while he bit into his first taste of Marrakech, a nutty filo pastry, he pondered and proceeded to end his foolish thoughts with a smirk, "This is home."
A riad by definition is equivalent to a Moroccan house or not so simply... a palace with a garden courtyard. While I must stress that a Moroccan trip without splurging on a riad is kinda like being in Morocco in black and white. Here's why:
I clearly have little clue to what was to come for the next 3 days. As my man set a wise idea to stay-in on our first 2 nights, I objected without hesitation. What happened next led me to realise how truly to experience Morocco. We took a 10-minute walk to Jemaa el Fna square, or a 20-minute walk if you are duped by a friendly local who knows your destination and leads you the direction to his store instead. The square could possibly be the best kind of evening bustle - an epicentre of lights so bright with the food vendors' energy ever so mighty, eventually, you end up in one of those numbered OJ stands and fast food bars. Even after all that buzz, along the way we mastered the art of haggling lest you break your wallet, then headed back to our perfect respite, La Sultana, away from the heat and dust, which (trust me,) is the next best thing to 2,000 count Egyptian cotton sheets. It was then that we decided to leech onto privatisation for the entire stay. Well, almost.
Following afternoon pool naps were unforgettable albeit we run ourselves like your first cup of caffeine - think shady sica trees, bougainvillea blossoms and mosaic parties on my feet. I was on a tile hunt to capture the masterpieces of them craftsmen - the walls, ceilings, stairs, banisters. Best yet, our suite's stuco work and decor warrants a ceremonious platform dive into the stationary surface- the king bed and perhaps an interior reality series to boot. Pictured above on the first: Shoulders and backs fully immersed in the dexterity of the Almohad arts. In the spirit of New York Fashion Week back then, which caused me a major FOMO but the jitter was cured with constant prescription of Moroccan tea. Yup, choosing the city less travelled is more rewarding than you'd think.
Our room, an individual-styled suite deluxe boasting a double storey 75m² living space with a private balcony fitted for the royalties and the occasional flock of birdies that resides on the balcony ledge for a daily recital in the AM. I pinched myself again, hashtag #isthisreallife?
Pictured on the left:
#Fact 1 How I do people-watching at the pool below the suite.
#Fact 2 About to ditch my belt post-Makouda patties.
Morocco travel vlog to come. I'mma go find a cocktail to fizzle out.
Moroccan retreat c/o La Sultana Hotels
35mm 1.4 wide angle lens co-sponsored by Camera Rental Centre
Shots by Ronald W.
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