So…We had a trip planned for Marrakech in The Before Times. Four years later, we finally made it!
Of course, there were travel travails: Ryan Air. IYKYK. Nuff said. Specifics: LOUD flight, with children screaming (I don’t judge: I flew a lot of long-haul flights with a young child, so I know it can be trying for everyone.) But one child was way too old to be throwing the fit he was throwing, which started in the terminal and continued non-stop until we landed. And the guy sitting next to El Marido had his phone out the whole time, filming out the window, checking his filming, narrating over his filming…
THEN: the most intensive passport control we’ve ever encountered. They checked us separately, which was a problem, since I didn’t have our riad info on my phone (lesson learned). El Marido went first. When it was my turn (with another agent), I pointed to El Marido and said “I’m with him.” Part of the delay was a slow computer network, so while we were obviously waiting on that, I started humming a little do-doop-da-doop. The agent echoed me and we went back and forth for a bit. Both agents chuckled. When I was approved, I got a final do-doop-da-doop from the agent as I walked through. Obviously, it made his day.
The terminal in Marrakech was quiet, almost deserted: no sign of our ride. Then we exited to CHAOS. A huge crowd of drivers, all with name cards. After two laps around, we finally found ours.
Note: when you arrive at your destination in the evening, you can’t see much. But what we could make out was lovely: wide avenues with bike lanes and walking paths.
Our driver pulled up to a square outside the medina, where a hotel employee met us to escort us into the medina the few blocks to our riad, where we were seated with tea and treats while our bags were whisked to our room.
We got a brief introduction to Marrakech, including the warning to be careful in Jemaa el-Fna Square: avoid the henna painters, it’s toxical; avoid the street food, it can be toxical. I so love that word: TOXICAL
Our riad was every bit as magical and romantic as I had imagined:
Complete with roses on the bed (and in the bathroom!) every night:
Breakfast was a rich array of soup (yes, soup for breakfast!), yogurt, assorted breads and pastries, and eggs to order:
All served in a lovely, quiet garden populated with turtles of assorted sizes. We found all but the largest, Couscous:
Not to worry, the riad staff scrambled before we left on the last day to find the shy turtle so we could get a final picture:
And the middle-sized turtle (above, with Couscous) had no name. El Marino suggested “Fred.” After a brief confab, the riad staff accepted the name.
So, if you visit the Riad Kaiss, ask to meet Fred. Tell them we sent you.
Retired in Spain 