When we left Marrakech Menara Airport – minus half of our luggage which thankfully resurfaced four days later after having visited Algiers - I didn’t find a single taxi with air conditioning, but open windows more or less did the trick. The old cream Mercedes Benz steamed and swayed its way into the Medina and we arrived at our hotel, dry-mouthed and glowing like neon signs in the heat.

The traditional entrance into the high-walled, faceless structure opened into an incandescently cool and quiet interior. Smilingly the receptionist lead us down a passageway to a sitting room with plump cushions and antique furniture and artefacts that would have taken our breath away, had we breath to take. She disappeared into the hush, promising to return with mint tea and to check us in. After a few parched minutes we went in search of her – and a Gin and Tonic – and got delightfully lost in the alluring set of sensuously decorated Riads, passages and staircases that lead to the rooftop terrace and its wide views of the city.

A quick shower, and we flung ourselves into the miasma of traffic and humanity. Pointless wandering in the heat of the day is never a good idea, especially in the medina, and what is the largest traditional market in Morocco, the souk with its deliriously labyrinthine alleyways and beehives of shops and stalls.

Later, after getting lost, hot, overwhelmed and confused, we returned to the peace of the hotel.

The outside of all the city’s buildings appeared to be rundown during our earlier walk, but back on the rooftop for sundowners and dinner, watching the soft sunset unfold, buildings in shades of ochre and pale salmon and pink had the city take on a glow. With the rolling sound of the muezzin calling, the smell of patchouli and orange and goat in the air, and a bottle of excellent Morrocan wine in front of us, it was all altogether intoxicating.

If you find the old city daunting (and even if you don’t) using a guide to initiate you to the wonders of the city is essential. Achmed Ajni not only told us many fascinating stories about the history, culture and architecture of Marrakech, but also had us marvel at the elaborate sensuality of Islamic art and craft. Meticulously hand-inlaid walls and ceilings, sculptured plaster, painted wood and painstakingly carved doorways and windows of the palaces, mosques and museums are so heartstoppingly exquisite that in the end the beauty becomes almost overwhelming.

By the second day Achmed’s seductive charm had us convinced we were best friends forever and we urged him to have lunch with us, considering that the breaking of bread would forge even stronger bonds. He led us down a series of winding alleys in the souk for about forty minutes and finally to a cobalt-blue eatery with an interior garden. At the entrance he demurred and disappeared for an hour.

Think Moroccan cuisine and of course the tajine immediately comes to mind. A typical meal at midday is a hot or cold salad, followed by a tajine of chicken, lamb or, to a lesser degree, beef (or vegetarian). ‘Tajine’ refers to both the container, the lid of which resembles a conical Lesotho hat, is made from glazed clay, as well as the contents. Seafood, too, is popular as is couscous, sometimes spiced and served as an accompaniment. And of course each meal is ended with a cup of traditional sweet mint tea.

Moroccan food is the result of a fusion of many flavours and cultures like the Moors, the Muslims, the Berbers, Jews, Iberians and  the Mediterranean African.

Although the souk seems a confused jumble of stalls and shops at first, there is a system. Specific areas sell glittering seas of jewellery with mysterious stones. Lamps, stands and everything the heart of my home desires. Orgasmic spices of scents and hues that whisper of ancient times. Clothing to charm, seduce, cheat, with the colours of cobalt, mint, poppies and saffron. Antiques both old and brand new. Hand woven baskets. Ranges of shoes, slippers and sandals that would have made Ms Marcos melt. And piles and piles of magical carpets. And the deeper you go into the souk, the more you come across men and women of varying ages sitting for hours over the piece they are creating.

Bargaining is an essential skill. Here’s a brief lesson: the aim is to end up paying around fifty percent of the price that is first quoted (with a deadpan face). Of course you have to start much lower than where you aim to end, so let’s say you’re buying babouches (those pretty, bright coloured slippers), he says 300 Dirhams. Knowing that you want to end up paying around 150 Dirham, you make a sound of derision and offer 50. He counters. Then the game is on. Don’t take any of this too seriously but know that this is all accepted buying ritual. And in a souk of this size and nature, filled with loud, friendly people all jostling for your attention in the most charming way, it’s an altogether pleasant experience.
Jemaa el Fna is the portal into the souk and also the heart of the Medina. Go towards the end of the day (it’s really too hot during the day) to the first floor balcony at Cafe de France for a soft drink sundowner (no alcohol served) but avoid the food. From a drab plaza during the day, below you the L shaped open area comes magically alive with the snake charmers, merchants, acrobats, herbalists, dancers, story tellers, soothsayers and of course the crowded food stalls.
This is the place where many locals as well as tourists come to sit down at the stalls for their evening meal: huge pots of snails with sauces, bread, spiced sausages, meatballs and kebabs and many delicious vegetarian dishes.

The like of Vogue magazine French magazine Le Point pronounce that Marrakech is becoming a celeb hot spot. Although the idea fills me with dread, the likes of Yves St Laurent, who lived out his final years in Marrakech designed the exquisite Majorelle gardens (go early in the morning before the crowds arrive), the lush green of the plants and the ponds a stunning counterpoint to the intense cobalt blue of the walls.

Leaving the wondrous deep pink city that languishes before the snow-covered Atlas Mountains, even the lost luggage no longer mattered. What mattered was that this city will always be there: provocative, mysterious and wondrous. And anyway, any excuse for a bit of shopping.

FURTHER INFO
A Riad is a traditional Moroccan house with rooms arranged around a central atrium or courtyard and interior garden. This inward-focused architecture, with its lack of exterior windows allows for privacy and is designed to protection from Moroccan weather.
A Casbah is a large fortified country house, enclosed by high walls originally designed to protect those inside from attackers, and to guard the honour of the owner’s harem.

NOTE:
The writer was the guest of Small Luxury Hotels of the World for part of her stay at La Sultana Marrakech. For further information go to www.slh.com or email Robyn.Fuchs@slh.com.
Achmed Ajni (tour guide)
Phone +00212 661 241 241

BEWARE:
Beware the Moroccan Airports Authority’s management of luggage. Not once, but twice we lost our luggage: the first time when we arrived in Marrakech. The second time both our bags went astray in the short flight from Marrakech to Casablanca and we tried to communicate with blank faces for four hours before the bags were traced.
Beware, too, the cab drivers who, although the government has clamped down on their thumb-sucking fares, still try their luck with tourists. The big Mercedes Benz taxis will take you and your luggage from point to point, and the little ‘petit’ ones do short trips mostly in and around the Medina. Always try to ascertain from someone in the know what the usual fare for your trip is. Then make sure the taxi driver acknowledges and agrees to the fare.