'I have just returned from a fab honeymoon in Morroco! Riad 12 is an oasis of calm in a mesmerising labyrinth of a city. I can confirm that the Camelia room is the one to ask for, it was everything you'd expect from Italian owners married with Marrakshi style. After reading the Smith review on how to find(or not) this hidden gem, I decided the most pain-free way of getting to our abode would be to contact the riad and get them to send a taxi to collect us from the airport. Thank God we did – there is NO way we would've found it in a million years. That is a bonus in itself, though, as once you are inside this place it is amazingly tranquil and a world away from the utter craziness that is Marrakech. I would highly recommend riad 72 for dinner it was amazing, the whole courtyard and a specially prepared menu just for the two of us! this was taking private dining to the next level. the food was wonderful everything homecooked and the best traditional morrocan we ate. we were surrounded by swaying palms and ferns,water gently flowing by us and sumptious furnishings all by the flicker of candlelight. what more could honeymooners want? le foundouk also was everything its reputation says it is fabulously rich decor and with food and service to match!its almost like stepping into another time when you leave the dusty winding alleyways outside and step through the heavy curtains into the beautiful surroundings that sum up everything about morrocan chic. what a contrast! one final point to note is make sure you have cash to change at the airport, nowhere changes travellers cheques, the dirham is a closed currency and the one cash point at the airport was not working!!!! there was only one bank that we found in the city to change travellers cheques and their system was only working one day!! there was plenty of cash points but the riads prefer cash payment(5-10% surcharge for cards) so make sure you take plenty of cash.'
read more…Riad 12
Marrakech, Morocco[view map]
Reviewed by Mr & Mrs Smith.
An off-the-beaten-track location is often the appeal of a hotel. But, may I say, I wish you luck in trying to find Riad 12. It is secreted in the beating heart of Marrakech’s medina: no taxi driver knew the street, no local recognised the name. The twists and turns of the ancient alleys and avenues seemed to turn the very core of Marrakech inside out, eventually spitting us out in the right place. A place, which I was soon to discover, would hold the most special of spots in this reviewer's heart.
An explanation for that serving of schmaltz later: here’s where you’ll actually find the hotel. First, ask your driver to drop you on the corner outside Dar El Bacha (also known as Dar El Glaoui), the former residence of Thami El Glaoui, an early-20th-century ruler of Marrakech. Walk down Rue Dar El Bacha, then after 30 metres, turn left down the tiny alley just before the Zimroda Arts shop. Bingo.
When we finally reach the riad, at the end of a dark alley, we have to resist the urge to try a special knock or password. For this felt more like a secret door to an underground Hobbit hole than an hotel entrance. But as we were ushered in, a spear of Moroccan sun hit us from the open-air rooftop, bathing the hotel’s courtyard in light – and it all suddenly felt just right.
In this traditional Moroccan riad, you can’t help but stand smack bang in the middle and gaze, jaw dropping, upwards, while you spin in a circle to take it all in. In the centre of the courtyard is a prettily lit pool. It’s surrounded by palms, flowers, candles and lamps, and should look spectacular at night – which it does.
This is a hotel made for lounging. On the ground floor are three seating areas, including a dining room with grand glass table, and an opulent sitting room with a fireplace. We check in sitting on big white cushions, while staff serve us jasmine water to wash our hands with, and mint tea to wash home-made biscuits down with. Very nice after our long journey to get here. There was a mysterious bulge in my Mr Smith’s trouser pocket. More on that later.
There are only three bedrooms to choose from, and one’s a single, but ours easily passed the squidgy double bed/romantic lighting test. We were jealous to hear that the room opposite had a four-poster, but hey – we had a raindrop showerhead the size of a satellite dish. With time for a wander into Marrakech before supper (we’d booked VIP places at the glass table), we headed left out of the hotel and into the city. After ducking into nearby Café Arabe (184 Rue El Mouassine) for a caffeine top-up on the roof terrace, we snapped up some art from a street stall just before entering the souks – bartering the asking price down by 50 per cent.
Withstanding all offers of slippers, spices and strawberries, we were surprised to found outselves emerging into the main square – Place Djemaa El Fna. Alive with snake-charmers, monkeys and smoking food stalls, it is deafening. And Mr Smith, who had now been pounced upon by a man with a snake, went a slightly funny colour – and suddenly started patting the bulge in his trouser pockets nervously. Yes, yes, more on that to come.
Deciding to get the pale Mr Smith back to Riad 12, we were secretly gleeful that the other guests had evidently checked out, because it meant we had an oasis in the middle of this chaotic city all to ourselves. That’s the great thing about Riad 12: such a profound sense of exclusivity means you feel thoroughly spoilt. And you are. It really is all about you.
Changing for supper, we made for the glass table – where sunlight had been replaced with candle and lamplight, and before serving a four-course menu, accompanied by a bottle of local red. Dining alone in that enormous, shadowy house – as the calls to prayer cried out across the city – was eerie, enchanting, unforgettable.
When staff go home at night at 22h or so, they leave a mobile phone behind in case you need anything before they return to serve breakfast. And then you really are all alone. Since we’d been planning on checking out the roof terrace all evening, now seemed as perfect a time as any.
Mr Smith led me up the stairs. As the views across the city unfurled before us, his constant trouser-pocket patting and faraway expression, which could be construed as the symptoms of an unsavoury medical condition, actually all started to make sense. Pulling the box from his pocket, he suddenly disappeared down on one knee. And right there, under north African stars, my Mr-Smith-to-be asked me to marry him. So aren't you impressed with how much detail I still managed to soak up concerning our whirlwind escape? By rights all recollections of our trip could have been so easily eclipsed.
Intimate and incredible, Riad 12 is clearly the sort of place to inspire marriage proposals. Whether ours was the first, I don't know. And I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. Full of memories, we were sorry to leave the next morning. But they sent us on our way full of croissants, pastries and plans for the future. Oh, and did I say yes? What do you think?
Review: Charlotte Crisp