Palais Ronsard

We’d been giving each other uneasy glances since the taxi turned off the last chaotic roundabout and headed out into what looked like the desert. Like all eager, sun-deprived hotel guests, we’d flicked through the photo gallery obsessively in the weeks leading up to our trip and had imagined that Palais Ronsard was somehow squeezed into the heart of the medina – all those pools, all those trees! It sounds ridiculous but I suppose it shows how limited our perspective of Marrakech was at the time and of course, there is much to do and see beyond the medina.

The hotel, in fact, is only a 20-minute drive from the centre in an area known as palmeraie (palm grove) after the thousands of tall palms that rise up in spiky silhouettes from the sandy earth, but it feels a world away from the crowds and clamour of the market: a Thirties-style mansion house cocooned in its own private, edenic garden – there’s even a peacock who struts around the grounds and appears hopefully bobbing its head by the tables at lunch time. ‘Don’t worry,’ our waiter told us. ‘He’s very polite.’ 

Palais Ronsard oozes opulence. There are plumes of ostrich feathers arranged in ceramic vases, ornate lamps that look like parrots with tasseled shades, silvery velvet furnishings, polished marble floors, gold table tops and a floating pathway that runs down the centre of a decorative pool populated with bronze flamingos. Every evening a member of staff wades into the pool to place a floating candle in the middle of each mosaic star that’s drawn on the bottom. If it sounds over the top, it is – but in a lovably eccentric kinda way. 

This is partly due to the size of the hotel grounds in comparison to the number of rooms – there are only 28 suites including six ‘pavilions’ (private villas) with heated pools, while the communal spaces and gardens are so expansive that much of the time we felt as if we were wandering around our own private stately home. Our stay in late September fell just out of peak season so the hotel was perhaps less busy than it might ordinarily be, but the feeling of seclusion is largely thanks to the layout and interiors. 

We stayed in a prestige room on the upper floor of the main building which we reached via the sweeping marble staircase in the lobby, along a veranda and through a pretty iron gate that opened onto our private terrace. The room itself comprised a large bedroom painted in duck-egg blue and touches of gold with a four-poster bed, fireplace, sofa and armchair, and an enormous marble bathroom with a shower, bathtub and two sinks. Ordinarily, if we’re somewhere hot, we like to spend as much time as possible by the pool, but we found the room so relaxing that we found we were reluctant to leave. We spent long, lazy mornings reading our books in bed and returned in the afternoon for a snooze or to have a drink on the terrace at sunset, listening to the gentle hum of cicadas between the palms. 

The main restaurant, romantically called Le Jardin d’Hiver (the winter garden), is spread across a sumptuous indoor dining room with soft turquoise furnishings and a marble fireplace, and a small number of tables beneath the poolside colonnade, which is where we chose to eat each evening. Seated under warm, golden lighting, in wicker armchairs covered with soft pashmina blankets and cushions, we both agreed it was by far the most relaxing hotel dining experience we’ve ever had.

The menu is split into traditional Moroccan dishes and international cuisine – the tagine was our favourite along with the lemon-infused bread that’s homemade daily. Le Verger restaurant meanwhile is open for lunch only from 12pm to 3pm, and on Sundays for brunch where guests pay a set fee for an indulgent buffet which, during our stay, included barbecued lobsters, king prawns, fresh oysters, a salad bar, wood-fired pizzas and all manner of cakes and pastries.  

There’s a small spa too with a hammam, sauna, and a tempting menu of treatments that make use of natural ingredients such as rose, bergamot, honey and coconut pulp. For us, however, the most special thing about the hotel was the people. With luxury hotels where guests expect a certain level of service, the staff can sometimes come across as overly formal or performatively attentive, which in turn can create a slightly unsettling atmosphere. At Palais Ronsard, there was none of that.

The staff were friendly and quick to help with all of our queries – misplaced contact lenses, requests for taxis, drinks orders and recommendations for restaurants – but in a natural, relaxed manner. We spent twenty minutes talking to the head chef, Alexandre Thomas, about the food and his training, and when we expressed our love of the lemon bread at dinner, we were offered the handwritten recipe. 

There are very few places that manage to balance grandeur with authenticity, luxury with eccentricity, but Palais Ronsard is one of them. Truly one of a kind.