Imperial Borj Hotel
Travel Blogs from Marrakech
Got 1st class tix. had compartment to ourselves for awhile--laid down & slept. In Meknes 2 others came in.
Nice driver took us to the Cottages. Difficult to find, but he was very nice.
Got in our cottage, Sylvain showed us around. Went to the pool.
Laid down, not feeling well. A/C not working. Sylvain couldn't get it to work, so we moved to another cottage.
Dinner: chicken & couscous--delish.
We walked. It was hot.
Lunch at (name coming) on way to Jardin Majorelle. I was dying for some iced tea. Of course, there was nothing like that on the menu. I saw someone at a table with a glass of ice, and it occurred to me that I could make my own.
We ordered Salade Variee and The Noir with glasses of ice. The server looked at us with confusion, "Verres? Avec glacons?" Oui. He went over to make the tea, which was right in front of where ...
... the Riad at around 11 am. We walked toward the spa and went into some streets that were just crazy: stalls of meat hanging in the open air (like half pigs for example)--couldn't stand the sight of the flies buzzing around the meat, stalls of some sort of cactus that I think they peel and eat??, huge bunches of mint--smelled really good, pastries that attracted gazillions of bees, and lots and lots of people, bikes, motorbikes all trying to fit in the same place. It was ...
... required I spent next to nothing on the tour, except to buy the occasional memento, I treated haggling as a fun game and found it enjoyable. For the rest of the day I wasn’t hassled and he paid tips to all the people that told me how things are made etc… I saw snake charmers, souks, tanneries, Mosques, stalls galore selling everything you could possibly want, and sooo many of them.
I said earlier that Marrakech is a ...
... to the city. It's still full summer along Clifton Beach. Skinny boys play cricket on the sand. Teenagers in black wetsuits ride the curling wave. Anchored offshore is a small flotilla of pleasure craft packed with bronzed young people. The party is in full swing. We hear its rhythm. We order espresso and fresh fruit tarts at a quaint French bakery in the De Waterkant, Cape Town's garishly painted up gay quarter. We hang out with Nancy, a modern day ...