Riad Antara

My sunglasses were at the bottom of my bag, thanks to some clumsy – ok, I’ll admit it – tipsy packing the night before. It meant the sunshine blinded my hungover eyes as I stepped into the chaotic hustle outside Menara airport in Marrakech. Mr Smith was away with the boys this weekend. I, thankfully, was heading to Marrakech for some R&R. 

I braced myself as taxi drivers approached from every direction, all shouting louder than the next, eager to charm me into their backseat. With a pounding head I picked the one with the friendliest smile and hastily clambered in. Too exhausted to haggle, I obligingly got ripped off in exchange. 

A few minutes into the journey my phone pinged – a message from Laurent, the hotel owner, arranging a place to meet me from the taxi. Impressive start, I thought. I hadn’t fancied navigating the maze-like cobbled streets with my suitcase, dodging the donkey muck, all on my own. 

Laurent, a charming Parisian who moved to Marrakech for the sun with his wife Anne, was waiting for me as promised and escorted me through the narrow back streets of the medina to Riad Antara. 

The entrance to the hotel, like many of the riads in Marrakech, is behind an intricately carved, mysterious wooden door. Across the threshold you’re plunged into an oasis of urban calm. The cacophony of the medina is shut out and your ears tune into the soft twittering of exotic birds, and the soothing ripples of the courtyard’s centrepiece fountain. Miraculously, my hangover began to ease.

I was ushered into an armchair in the courtyard, my luggage was whisked away, and I was asked, ‘What size are your feet?’ An odd question, I thought, but was quickly distracted by the interiors. Sleek and chic, Laurent and Anne have created a melange of traditional Morocco paired with their elegant Parisian influence. 

After some famous mint tea and traditional Moroccan pastries, Laurent returns with the answer to his question – a pair of babouche (or Moroccan slippers, to you and me). A beautiful green leather pair, gifted to every guest on arrival. It’s generous touches like these which set Riad Antara apart.

Following a quick tour of my equally chic room and the rest of the riad, I was eager to get horizontal. Sunny rooftop terraces, with panoramic views across the medina, are a traditional feature of riads. But with straw hats, colourful towels, rose-hued walls, cacti and pink bougainvillaea, you could easily mistake this one for a cool Ibiza beach club.

Given it was the beginning of February and only 18 degrees, I had the whole roof to myself. I wasted no time ordering a hair of the dog (accompanied by an array of free salty snacks) and soaked up the rays. The staff, wrapped in coats and scarves, definitely thought this English woman was crazy.

With dinner booked at the hotel for later in the evening, I decided to head out and explore the medina. Despite clear and lengthy instructions from Anne on how not to get lost, I still managed to take a wrong turn as soon as I left the hotel. 

Following my nose, I eventually managed to find my way through the labyrinth of souks to the main square – Jemaa el-Fnaa. It’s a sight to behold, the central melting pot of the city, where snake charmers, fortune tellers, monkey trainers, singers and belly dancers all compete to entertain the crowds, and stall-sellers lure the passersby from sunrise to sunset.

I enjoyed a sundowner in one of the many rooftop bars, watching the dazzling red city turn an even more fiery hue, before retracing my steps back to Antara. 

Dinner was a very personal affair. Being the only guest dining that evening, I felt like the guest of honour. The menu was specifically tailored to my tastes and to what was in season at the local market. Laurent was in the kitchen, which meant the savoury-sweet lamb tagine with mixed roasted root veg had a delicious French twist. And the grapefruit and lemon sorbet to finish was the perfect palate cleanser.

The next morning, sans hangover, fuelled with hot black coffee and the sweetest orange juice I’ve ever tasted, I headed back into the medina to browse the souks. You need your wits about you when exploring the narrow streets. Motorbikes, pushbikes, donkeys and carts all force their way through the throngs of tourists and locals. Tourists haggle for beautiful silks, woven rugs, leather bags and shoes, and locals collect their spices and meats from unassuming shops.

With a few tagine pots under my arm for Mr Smith and family, and my senses once again overloaded, I made my way back to the sanctuary of the hotel. For the rest of my stay I could be found on the rooftop, sunning myself, and being truly spoiled by Laurent, Anne and their impeccable team. 

Riad Antara has an abundance of things to write home about, but it’s the level of hospitality which stands out. Their many thoughtful gestures, their warmth and sincerity, really made me feel as though I was staying with dear old friends – friends who happen to live in a palace.

On leaving, Laurent escorted me and my bags back to the taxi point, loaded me into a taxi and spoke to the driver in Arabic to ensure that, this time, I didn’t get ripped off – even if it would have been obligingly!