Jnane Tamsna

Saturday, 23rd August

We were up before the sparrows even started farting this morning.  It was brilliant to be able to walk to the check-in desk in less than four minutes.  Particularly as I was far from fully awake.  We mooched in the executive lounge for about an hour, helped ourselves to an armload of free magazines and newspapers, then went to the gate.  I had thought that booking the executive lounge was a bit of an extravagance, but we saved a fortune, by preventing me going anywhere near the duty free.

Speedy Boarding Plus got us seats right at the front of the plane, facing the excessively chirpy cabin crew.  Now I never, ever drink champagne of morning flights, but as it is our honeymoon, I thought I would give this peculiarly British sport a try.  I was hoping that it would send us back to sleep.  Tony the purser poured us each a glass, to be clear, that's Troy and I, not Tony and I.  I was just about to ask, as a joke, that the bottle be put on ice, when Tony whipped about a champagne bucket, et voila.  Very classy, Easyjet.  We spent the flight swapping stories with the cabin crew.  We learned about take-off drinks, landing drinks, and tray-sliding, all sadly no longer possible due to the health and safety Nazis.  Not a wink of sleep was had, and three short hours later, at ten in the morning, we touched down in Marrakech.

We have only stayed in the Medina before, and the drive in the wilderness was very different from our trips into the pink-walled city.  The hotel, Jnane Tamsna, is quite extraordinary.  The name means garden of paradise.  It's a sprawling estate with several large houses, each secluded from the others.  There are four pools, and acres of land dedicated to producing organic vegetables for the hotel.  It is in the middle of nowhere, and there is no satellite TV, no radio, no music - and precious little WiFi.  Guests are provided with their own mobiles, so you can contact reception without having to leave the pool.  Last week there was both royalty, and Hollywood A-listers staying, and I suppose you can't expect them to make a five minute journey in their flip-flops, to ask for more towels.  There isn't even a menu, you eat what the chef has decided to cook for each meal, and that's that.  It's for the discerning traveller, rather than the demanding.  The only choice you have to make, is what colour wine to have with your supper.  In the direct sun, the heat is blistering, who would book a trip to Morocco in August?

I simply adore this country.  In the bustling Arab confines of the Medina, it is hard to remember that you are in Africa, out here, with the scorched earth, and date-laden palms, it is impossible to forget.

Sunday, 24th August

The heat was bearable early this morning, and I took my camera on a tour of the estate.  It is easy to become disorientated, and lost, on the many pathways, but I eventually found my way back to our suite.  I dropped off the camera, and went to find Bahija, the chef, in her kitchen at the big house, for my cookery lesson.

Although I do cook North African food at home, I was keen to see how it is done in a proper Marrachi kitchen.

It was also really good for me to spend two hours speaking French, and we had a conversation that ranged far beyond the culinary.  We discussed politics, education and discipline.  I told Bahija about the knife and gun crime in London, and she told me that here it is perfectly acceptable to give a youngster a clip round the ear if they step out of line.  She also confessed a weakness for watching Gordon Ramsay's 'Cauche-mars de Cuisine.'

Two hours later I had made: a huge chicken pastilla, ('I'll give you the recipe for twelve.'  She said.  'What, you mean that's not the recipe for twelve?') lamb tagine with preserved lemons, and pears poached in orange juice and Ras-el-Hanout.

This was then served for lunch to my new husband, how much better can a honeymoon get?

Anna the chef joined us for supper, in an ironic twist of fate, her newly-wed husband had been struck down by an attack of the trots, a reward for daring to eat on their trip to the mountains today.  Troy and I are not planning on going anywhere for this leg of the trip, and we will see how things go at the next hotel.

Monday, 25th August

The sun was sufficiently tame today that we managed some proper sunbathing.  In the afternoon, Mr and Mrs Moore had simultaneous reflexology.  I haven't had a treatment since I was having chemo, half an hour before the drugs, in a cold harshly lit room, in basement in Harley Street.  Lying on the daybeds on our front terrace, shielded from the sun by the canisse, it couldn't seem more different.

Troy has been keen for us to spend a night under the stars on these daybeds, but I am concerned that we would fall prey to the myriad biting, stinging, and possibly slithering, local wildlife.  Tonight we will sleep in our bed at Jnane Tamsna, and tomorrow we go to Caravanserai.

Jnane Tamsna