Go away... to Morocco
Go away... to Morocco
Fes, Marrakech, the Atlas Mountains, and it wasn't enough
Come away with me as I look back over my recent trip to Morocco. Or don’t. I’m looking back anyway, because it was so incredible. Beautiful, bustling, unique, delicious, everything you’ve heard but also warmly welcoming, safe, and eye-opening.
We start our tale in Fes, by and large considered Morocco’s spiritual heart. We arrived to Riad Fes at sunset and during the call to prayer which was such a magical combination (especially from the terrace on my room), it was as if it was planned for us. Fes is quieter and more traditional than its bright, bold, bustling southern neighbor of Marrakech.
We spent the first couple of days strolling the winding and historic Medina, stopping by the Chouara tannery where we looked out over the round stone vessels filled with dyes for leathers and suedes, then eating the most delicious Moroccan food, and starting to get to know each other.
This trip was organized by our host agency, Fora, for a handful of advisors to check out Morocco’s luxury hotel scene and get firsthand experience of the Medinas and the souks, the culture and the people, and to appreciate all of the logistics of planning a great trip here. The result is that we now collectively have a richer and more detailed sense of how to give you guys (friends, clients, enemies) the same fabulously seamless time in Morocco.
And not just in Morocco. I think each one of us got a better appreciation of what it is that we do at large, of what we offer our clients wherever they’re going. More than once, one of us would wonder aloud ‘where are we meeting the van again?’ and it would magically appear on the road behind us. Seamless is the right word, and what a luxury.
After a few days of exploring Fes, learning how those gorgeous and intricate mosaic tiles are made (painstakingly by hand!) to stopping by the world’s oldest university (founded by a woman!), we hopped on a flight for Marrakech. And if you’re not already green with envy, brace yourself.
There are luxury hotels and there are Marrakech’s luxury hotels. And they are not created equal. We started our time in this vibrant, colorful city at The Oberoi which as you can see above…could use a bit of a face lift. Joking. Everywhere you turn at The Oberoi is visually stunning.
But before you accuse us of just flitting from luxury hotel to luxury hotel, pipe down. We also learned about the Koutoubia Mosque, we visited the beautiful Dar el Bacha and then freaked out about the charming, Wes Anderson-esque coffee shop in the Dar el Bacha. And, fine sure okay, we stopped in for lunch at the-place-I-am-meant-to-be, the Amanjena.
One of my personal favorites was the Musee Pierre Berge des Artes Berberes within the iconic-for-good-reason Jardin Majorelles.
But because I’m of the people, and despite having a stunning dinner at the Royal Mansour… The highlight of my time in Morocco was the day we spent hiking in the Atlas Mountains and having tea with a Berber (more accurately Amazigh) family, followed by the call to prayer and couscous for lunch. One reason that Moroccans have couscous specifically on Fridays: back in the day, communities shared ovens to cook for their families, and since both the Jewish and Muslim communities consider Friday a day of rest (specifically the Jewish observation of Shabbat), they would shut down the ovens. So couscous on Fridays became a tradition, since it can be made without one.
When I say that a number of us cried atop that mountain, listening to the call to prayer, well… it would be weird if I joked about that. We cried. It was an unforgettably special moment. It was an unforgettably special trip. In many more ways than one. Morocco hosted us and frankly really showed off, but it was also about the group of people I moved around with, joked with, learned Arabic words with. It was the fact that we got to bond and nerd out about traveling, together.
It was like this epic stamp of approval that we’re all in the right place doing the right thing and, bonus, getting to do it together.
Just a few fun links
Everyone must read this hilarious state of the of not-hilarious heterosexual dating union. “I met a man named … let’s call him Dick—because, well, it’s my essay, so I can—in the third-floor bar of Nordstrom (his pick). He immediately fretted over the calorie count of a vodka soda…”
Big dumb cups, amazing
An enormous congratulations to my fabulous friend Gray Malin on his new Getaway House. I cannot wait to see all that he does with this!
I am obsessed with these TikToks.
Signing off to douse myself in neroli oil, cook a tagine, and put on my new babouche slippers.
xoxo,
Nicole