The heart of Marrakesh is kept safe by pink mud city walls and large arched gates. The new city of shopping malls, apartment blocks and a business district lives outside these walls, but within, lies everything you see in pictures. The Medina itself can best be described as a wonderful hive. Silversmiths, tanneries, potters, textile merchants, carpet stores and spice sellers sculpting their wares into colourful sharp spikes. Food stalls, clothing markets, perfumeries and lantern makers glowing in the milky market light. It makes your senses sing as you wander through walking across makeshift flooring, dirt paths and litters of kittens. 

Over our 3 days we visited palaces over 1000 years old, secret gardens and Jemma el Fnna square. We purchased pottery and matching amber fruits from a man named Zen. We discovered the delights of Chabi Chic and squeezed bottles and bottles of perfume and mint tea into our suitcases. We wandered around the baking Baadi Palace, admiring intricate carvings, light and shadow. We lined up to see the Saadian Tombs and caught a taxi out the Yves Saint Laurent museum. We ate at Limoni, Nomad, Max & Jan and La Familia; plates overflowing with couscous, green beans, pomegranate, almonds and honey. We ate the best ice-cream ever - olive oil and orange, almond and argan oil, spicy chocolate sorbet. We covered the Medina on foot, completely entranced by its magic. In fact, you loose track of your beginnings and the day stretches on; warm, dusty and exhausting. Faces seem to appear from no where, asking for your custom and your money. Even when you feel the most alone on the little alleyways off the Medina, curious eyes are following your step. 

On the afternoon that we decided to make our carpet purchase, Zoubair, as promised, accompanied us. We set off from the riad, Kin and I had to almost run to keep up with his pace, as he sailed through the narrow alleyways effortlessly. He introduced us to his friend Ilyass, who unfurled carpet after carpet from stacks ceiling high in his fathers shop. Kin found her rug (little Abdul) right away, hanging right up on the back wall. Mine (big Abdul) took a little longer to find, and involved a trip to Ilyass’ family home. Both of the carpet we purchased were approved by Zoubair, who explained that they were 50 year old Boujaad tribe antique carpets, bought down from the villages to sell in the Medina. 

One night, after a delicious Nomad meal, we thought we could manage the walk home through the heart of the Medina on our own. We had done it a few times and felt confident enough. We got as far as the edge of the square, and perhaps 50m north before catching a glimpse of a group of guys huddled around, one with his shorts down, peeing on a wall. Like synchronised swimmers, we turned on our heels and decided it was best we go back and call on Zoubair for his help. 

Kin forbade me from saying it - but not a single thing went wrong the entire trip. Every meal we ate as even better than the last. Every person we met was insightful, interesting and friendly and every day the sun shone brighter, followed by a spectacularly full moon. 

We fell in love with everything, but perhaps nothing more than our riad, Maison 28. The property had been purchased by an American woman who had clearly invested a large chunk of time and energy into restoring it into a beautiful oasis. As you open the door the smell of handmade oils is the first thing to hit. Followed closely by fresh mint tea and undertones of amber. The interior is warm and open, full of sunlight, pink and cream textiles and hand-painted walls. It was an absolute dream. It was here that we got to know Zoubair, a Marrakesh local, who not only runs the riad, but is, of course, a luxury carpet dealer. He took so much pride in showing us his prized collection, you can see it in his face in the photos that follow.

We used midday showers to start the day anew at around 1pm, and spent the remainder of our time using up our last dirham. On the last afternoon, Kin and I spent the time laughing hysterically; crying, in fact. We had perched ourselves up on the roof terrace, propped up with linen cushions and steaming mint tea. The light up there was just so golden and amazing. And with a mix of utter relaxation and wide brimmed hats, we laughed away the afternoon sun. 

Our last meal at the riad was one to remember. All of the staff had put time into a traditional dish of couscous and vegetables, salads and tea, served up on the roof terrace under candlelight. We felt like the ultimate Karpet Kween and Kaftan Kween.