Before embracing pasty skin, dry hands and the imminent fear of some boy berk lobbing a snowball in your face, I decided to have an emergnecy dash for the last scrap of winter sun in October. It’s a tricky time to go on a mini break in the pursuit of heat. Europe is patchy. Greece-I just kept reading a lot about blustering wind. And I hate wind. I’ll take rain over wind. And sleet. It offers nothing except watery eyes, anger and crap hair.
I knew Marrakech would probably be a decent bet. After having visited a couple of times previously and had a delightful time, it was just a short 3 hour flight until you arrive in a country rich in culture, rugs and relaxation. If their tourist board pinches that, you know where you saw it first.
So off we popped to a deliciously bizarre and brilliant farm/hotel/hippy retreat in the middle of nowhere for a few days.
This is Fluffy Boots.
Moroccan tea time. Yes please.
This guy. Wins every competition in everything.
You do get your own showers, but these are a more liberal alternative. But naturists, leave your kecks on yeah?
There he is.
I know your only concern; ‘I wish they had Donkeys, Goats and Horses’. Bingo!
Fellah Hotel is adorable. So much character and perfect to just switch off and enjoy a swim, spa, boxing (it has it’s own ring and instructor), admire the array of seriously impressive-if a tad phallic-cactus (cacti?!) or chat to donkeys. All of the above are optional.
Is that an Arnold Schwarzenegger I hear you ask? Sure is. Don’t see them enough.
As we only had a few days and limited time, we focused heavily on resting, eating and exercise. However we did head out to the Medina which is always fascinating. Personal highlight amongst the snake charmers was the man selling teeth and another whose selling pitch was his pet pigeon. Positioning himself next to the dancing monkey was an error.
As alcohol is limited in the Medina we went for a bit of an explore and accidentally stumbled upon one of the most beautiful hotels I’ve ever seen. Turns out it’s an incredibly world famous historic hotel called La Mamounia that Winston Churchill used to frequent. That’ll do! We treated ourselves to a cocktail. It was £27. Each. Good job we got some complimentary macaroons.
We also had the most incredible meal at Bo Zin restaurant. Get’s pretty lively later on also. If you’re not a fan of live bongos or fire pits, don’t bother.