Contributed by Jens Hoffmann.
Hmm, yes a little bit boring, but we are still looking for the 1001 secrets of Marrakesh.
Spice shops, snake charmers, and street food have made the city to one of world greatest spectacles.
Acctually no need to introduce the La Mamounia, a true legend among the most famous hotels in the world.
It is located in walking distance of the Djemaa el Fna, in the legendary city Marrakesh.
We had a fantastic time and a amazing suite with view to the garden. So lovely.
In Marrakech the sky is a Wagnerian celebration: indigo with pinpricks of starlight, deep sapphire, cerulean, its colors are funneling down through the horizon in the wake of the setting sun. The vivid sounds of the medina are borne towards me, dramatic cried, metallic clashes. The fairy-tale buildings seem to float above the feathery tops of the palm trees in stark but serene radiance.” (Anthony Gladstone-Thompson, ‘Morocco in the 1960s”).
It was a great invitation to return to the legendary La Mamounia hotel.
It was the favorite winter escape of Winston Churchill, a kind of paradise, with walls of filigreed stucco, colors Matisse loved, hand-carved and gilded cedar doors and ceilings, and slightly decadent silken aromas that waft through the air.
From each terrace and doorway are sun-struck visions of orange blossom and flickering palm trees.
The hotel has certain perfection because of the great Jacques Garcia.
The management and his staff have everything under so control that guests enjoy calm, unruffled moments. Classic hotel service is anticipatory. Dusty medina shoes are cleaned overnight. Baggage comes and goes invisibly. Reservations are made. Cars, drivers and expert guides are at hand. Imagine a hotel suite designed by the great French decorator Jacques Garcia. It’s in legendary Marrakech, with rich centuries of history, French associations, migratory cultures, virtuoso craftsmanship, and intensely authentic life. Garcia, his dreams at their most voluptuous, looked to Orientalist paintings to find red silk velvet Empire-style chairs and odalisque-ready sofas. He layered walls with wainscots of incantatory tiles, and then turned up the volume with carved plaster so intricate and endlessly serpentine that the effect is sheer magic, a solid material turned into light and vapor.
Arches frame the bed, the shower is a luxe temple with domed ceiling and tiny pearlescent tiles. A clawfoot tub balances an array of loofahs and toiletries, from fragrant soaps to gels and potions and creams. Marrakech stands on the great fertile plain of Haouz, seventeen hundred feet above sea level. Some eight miles of timeworn ramparts enclose the thronging hive of people. Dynasty after dynasty of Sultans enriched Marrakech with the finest architecture of their epoch; it became a royal city, the capital of the South. And it became the market for camel caravans from all the remote oases of North Africa, with their walnuts and oranges, gold and silk and hides, spices, dates, and precious metals.
A perfect spot.
Twenty-four acres of historic gardens allow guests to wander in peace.
Leisure orientated people can relax at the pool.
Annex: The wedding of the Russian president Putin’s daughter took place in the hotel.
Everyone was a bit over exited.