Morocco, Part One
A riad for creatives and a dinner that changed my mind for good.
Hello lovely Hotel Person,
It’s funny, for the years I lived in San Francisco, a week seemed to elapse in a blink but without many memories. It was a rinse and repeat of the same mundanity every day, every week, every month. I’ve made more memories in 37 days than I did in those four years, I really think.
I feel like it’s about time I came clean about how I got here. I faked it until I made it. When I started on TikTok, I had a vision of where I wanted to be today. As a strategist, I knew that since I hadn’t earned my stripes at travel tomes, I had to get people’s attention by sharing hotels that were highly aspirational.
In retrospect, I understand why so many people on the clock app would comment “so you rich rich” – I was staying at expensive hotels. But I was not in fact rich rich, I was paying for it on credit credit.
I believed in my dream of having a career in hotels, someway and somehow, and felt like I had to prove it through particularly shiny names. I don’t know, and I never will, if that was necessary, but it did get me here.
Now, I’m able to stay and write about the places that I can not only afford, but that I like the most. They are not the biggest hotel names in the world, as you’ve probably long realized. But, having worked as a strategist on so many luxury brands, I knew that in order to get people to consider hotels like these I had to first equate them as equal to the Luxury hotels that people typically aspire to.
I’ve been at a hotel 30 minutes outside Essaouira, Morocco for the past few days and have had the true time and mental space to reflect on all of this. I think and I hope that I have challenged, and perhaps, changed your definition of aspiration and luxury in travel. That’s a big goal of mine.
This hotel, which I’ll share about this upcoming week, is unlike anywhere I’ve stayed before. I have had some of the best meals of my life, seen the best sunsets, and had the best night’s sleep. Yet there are no lights and no WiFi and most definitely no phones or TV. Trust me when I say that this is the ultimate luxury.
I stayed at Punta Tragara and Claridge’s and Il Pellicano so you would, one day, actually trust me on the former statement.
Now, a year-and-a-half (and change) into this Substack, I also really hope to challenge and broaden your desires for where to travel in this vast and beautiful world. I have readers in over 100 countries, but my audience is still a majority American. We all know how much I love Italy. I moved there! It will always be my specialty. But, especially in this moment in history, I feel it’s my duty to embrace my only child bravery and go more boldly into this world. I want to understand far beyond what feels familiar to me, and I feel as though it’s a necessity, not a maybe.
I may not speak more than two languages, but hotels can be found on every continent, a product and reflection of every culture and country. What I once worried was a potentially petty subject I am now sure is not. Hotels are my way to see more of the world and to understand humanity on my own terms. It is a universal language, where no one has to make their own bed.
To living in awe instead of fear! To asking why in curiosity not comparison. To the never-ending treasure hunt of beauty and inspiration and understanding. To living a colorful life, far beyond hue.
Thank you so much for being here.
Happy Hoteling!
My First Riad Review
Today is all about Morocco. Marrakech, specifically. A wildly inspiring riad and a dinner that reshaped how I will go about this world.
I love hotels with artist residency programs. It’s a signal to me that it’s my type of place. I quantify myself as many things, but a primary one is a creative. Curious, imaginative, colorful, inspired — that’s what I am and what I seek in where I stay, when I can.
There are so many wonderful riads in Marrakech, it’s almost impossible to choose. But this is one that my gut separated from the most and relegated as Special. Also, highly affordable. Not commercial in any way. Not designed for Instagram. Not a hotspot, but a name that means something to the right someones.
In the first version of my Moroccan itinerary, there was no availability for my dates, and I was bummed. Luckily, in V2, there was, and it could and would kick off the trip. A win.
I judge a book by its cover and a hotel by its pre-arrival communications. It was a yay for Riad Jardin Secret from the get go.
As it happened, a particularly bad migraine that had me feeling like it actually might be the flu (it wasn’t), which forced me to stay in Rome an extra night and skip my first night at the riad, as I was in no shape to get out of bed let alone get on a plane. They were so kind and understanding, and ensured me that the driver would pick me up the next day at the same time. Compassion goes such a long way.
My first impression of Morocco was of immense respect, as the airport is so beautifully designed with Moroccan craftsmanship present in its design in ways big and small. They are firm in their identity as a modern nation, but are proud in their history and distinctions. Again, so much respect!
Also, I don’t think enough praise is given for intentionally-beautiful airports, yet it can make such an impact on a trip.
As I was waiting in line for customs, I was weirdly worried, as I kept seeing every American get questioned and questioned and questioned some more. I wondered if this was because I was landing the same day that the tariffs hit (fair enough). I tried to practice my French in my head, and tried to arrange my mouth in the way that would give me a good accent.
I guess that worked, or maybe my job is the lucky ticket, or maybe it’s that I always ask the customs officer how they are as I hand them my passport, or maybe it’s the new addition of apologizing for the US president as they lock in my nationality.
The previously hard-assed man became a jovial soul – we even had a bit of banter and shared some laughs about nothing I can remember because I was worried I was going to break character of my very limited “good” French accent. He stamped my passport and told me “our country has so many beautiful hotels and they are lucky to have you.” Humans, man! What a lovely welcome.
The driver the hotel sent was smartly dressed and big-smiled and just the right amount of chatty. I loved Marrakech immediately.
He remarked on how in Marrakech, unlike other cities in Morocco, both men and women primarily use a motorbike to get around, and how a woman who rides one is considered the biggest catch. Who knows if that’s just his experience, but it was a happy anecdote.
As someone who comes alive with color, the red city captured me instantly and infinitely. How was this my first trip? And how did everyone on the road seem so…at ease? Maybe it was just a stark contrast from Italy, where driving is not done without a bit of aggression. I was and am inspired, especially as everyone was driving exactly the speed limit.
Like a perfectly synchronized relay race, the driver parked and handed off my luggage to a man from the hotel waiting to greet me, a flawless intro.
From a street with cars (obviously), he took me into a door that lead to the quiet small street the riad is charmingly tucked behind. It’s squarely in the medina, but entirely quiet, which was exactly how it was described by its many fans, but I was weary. They were right!
Immediately, I was thrilled, and a bit in awe. Much of Moroccan architecture and craftsmanship is a feast for the eyes, but especially so in this small, lush corner of the maze. I’m always particularly inspired by hotels that so effortlessly blend the past with the present, but often there’s a slight disconnect between the two – a nearly invisible seam – but not here.
The riad was built in the 16th century, and all of the original tile work and painted ceilings are not just still in tact, but appear as recent commissions. I prescribe every boring beige or ghoulish grey interiors lover a trip to Marrakech.