The Pearl is home to one of the most delicious pools I’ve ever had the pleasure of dipping myself in.
It sits in a hot little courtyard, surrounded by tall, terracotta walls.
The white stone and chilled water reflect the sky above and make it feel as though you’re floating through the heavens.
One helluva spot for waterbabies and wannabe mermaids.
The Pearlwas a relatively unplanned stop off on our trip.
We’d booked into La Mamounia & The Four Seasons ages before, thinking that a short visit to Marrakech was all we needed.
But at the very last minute, The Pearl asked if we’d like to come and stay, and experience another kind of Moroccan oasis. A blood red tower, right in the middle of all the action.
Now, you know me, if a little of something is good… more’s better!
We extended our trip and kept our fingers crossed that it would be the pearl in our oyster.
It didn’t disappoint.
Check in is all done within the swirl of a gigantic snail. Sort of.
The building is one large spiral, and the lobby sits right in the middle. You sink into deep velvet chairs and sip on sweet tea while all the paper work is decided.
We went up to the room, dropped our bags, stripped off, slipped into fluffy robes and headed right for the pool.
You wouldn’t beleaf how refreshing it was…
We swam, played and wallowed in the shallows together.
I used his chest as a pillow, stretched out and let the gentle lapping of the pool drift me away to Utopia.
I was only brought back to life by the grumbling of his stomach, informing us that lunch time was upon us!
We leapt out and headed for the roof.
Mentally checking off moroccan menu items as we went, on the way up we decided what we’d order.
Beef tagine for me, chicken and olives for him.
But that all went out the window when we discovered the mother of all sushi restaurants.
A week without sushi is a long time for us Londoners, so we tucked in excitedly.
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For pudding, we headed back into the medina.
Hungry for another snoop in the souk.
We stocked up on teas and shovels full of dried roses.
Stroked the poor blighters who’d made their way onto men’s stalls.
And a couple of the luckier ones.
, , , , , chameleon.
(^ Leave me a comment if you get this terrible dad joke!)
We returned to The Pearl hot & weary. Hoping the pool on the roof would revive us.
Totally different to the one in the courtyard. This pool comes with its very own DJ, spinning the cheesiest of house, hip hop & Rihanna on repeat.
Which just about did the trick.
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We hung around until nightfall.
Supper was devoured in the Moroccan restaurant downstairs.
Now, I know I haven’t written about very many restaurants on this trip, but that’s because we had amazingly bad luck with them all! None were worth writing home about.
This was the exception.
Hands down the best food I’ve had in Marrakech.
They might not look like much, but these tagines were heaving with perfectly cooked, deliciously spiced, meltingly tender meats, fruits & veg.
The beef and apricot one was a particular favourite and I plan on recreating it very soon. (I’ll let you know if I can work out the best recipe, and share it with you. You need to taste this!)
I’d finally found something that measured up to the meal I had in the desert, years ago.
We went up to bed to find it had been all turned down, fluffed up and made ready for us.
We sank in to it feeling like we’d finished our adventure in the very best way possible.
I love Morocco more than ever and will certainly be back.
