How bazaar: a cultural hideaway outside Marrakech

Lotte Jeffs discovers a cultural hideaway outside Marrakech
Exotic: Djemaa el-Fna, the main square in the Medina
Lotte Jeffs6 October 2014

When a young man in Marrakech’s Medina tells you, ‘Today is a very special day — today is the last day of the Festival of Colour’... and if you’d just follow him through the maze of dusty, sun-dappled passageways between market stalls you’ll see the celebrations in action, know this: there is no Festival of Colour. Standing in the back yard of his father’s scarf shop, where a few desultory rags of dyed fabric hung from a line, and chickens pecked at my feet, I realised he'd well and truly duped me and I’d now have to buy an overpriced pashmina.

Marrakech is a riot — exotic, unruly, exciting — but it’s not an easy place for a woman to traverse hassle-free. So it helps to stay somewhere slightly outside the frantic centre. My partner Jen and I took a room at Fellah, a unique hotel and arts project, a 25-minute drive into the cacti-strewn desert beneath the Atlas Mountains.

Parisian stockbroker Redha Moali had the idea to bring international contemporary art and culture to Morocco, as well as to support local education and literacy centres. The hotel, which opened last year and comprises 69 exquisite rooms furnished with mid-century flea-market finds and modern pieces made by local craftsmen, funds the onsite cultural centre Dar al-Ma’mûn. As well as accommodating hotel guests, visiting artists and literary translators are invited to live and work in this quirky desert complex, and among the suites are artists’ studios, a language research centre and a multilingual library, which is also open to local villagers.

After exploring the resort (a misleading word for such a special place), feeding the horses on the farm, climbing into a treehouse that patently wasn’t designed for grown-ups and checking out the philosophy tomes in the library, it was twilight before we got to the pool. Beside it sits a cool restaurant and bar serving mezze, salads and fresh pasta. There are also cabanas to relax in, a small art and fashion boutique, a tea shop, ping-pong table and even a barber’s. Fellah is a strangely brilliant mix of bohemian luxury and ethical artsiness, a place where every dirham we spent went towards educating the local community and funding intellectual endeavours.

But just as it was all beginning to feel a bit earnest, the sun dropped behind the mountains and well-heeled Marrakechis started to arrive for poolside cocktails. It wasn’t long before our evening took a surprising turn. We shared a bottle of wine by the pool with two local chaps, who then drove us back into the Medina for dinner at Dar Es Salam, a place they recommended for vegetarian food. They escorted us to a table in the opulent, mosaic-tiled restaurant and then left us to it, suggesting we meet after dinner and go to ‘the city’s coolest nightclub’ together.

As our tagines were served, two musicians in traditional dress played drums and castanets to an exotic North African soundtrack, and soon enough I was cajoled into wearing a fez and having a go on their instruments. I was taught how to shake my head in such a way that the tassel on top of the hat spins wildly. By the time our new friends arrived to collect us, I was dancing like Tommy Cooper on crack.

They whisked us off in their sports car to the modern part of Marrakech, just outside the old city walls, to a nightclub called Jad Mahal. Suddenly we could have been in Ibiza as electronic dance music and international glamazons spilled on to the street. It quickly became clear that we had befriended the best-connected boys in town — after some small talk with the owner we were ushered through the red rope and into the madness. On the stage a covers band worked their way through every possible genre of party music, from Michael Jackson to Avicii. We ordered a bottle of vodka and it was brought to our table with fireworks and dancing girls. Belly dancers appeared and rippled their flesh in our faces; a troupe of Berbers jumped between the tables. Somehow I ended up on the stage showing off my newly acquired skills with a pair of castanets. We smoked a shisha in the opium lounge-like back room and at around 3am were delivered safely back to the perfect wilderness of Fellah.

Home comforts: a junior suite at Fellah

The next morning we fought off our hangovers with a boxing class in the outdoor gym, then took a taxi to the Jardin Majorelle. Yves Saint Laurent and his partner Pierre Bergé took over this horticultural masterpiece in 1980 and nursed it back to luscious health. The garden covers two and a half acres and is a colourful explosion of cacti, exotic plants and palms offset with vibrant blue-painted walls and water fountains — Instagram heaven.

Marrakech has become the fashion set’s go-to city break. The model Poppy Delevingne had one of her myriad wedding celebrations in the city in May, and one feels that Cara or Alexa Chung might pop out from behind a pillar at any moment. You won’t catch this crowd at Fellah, though, with its shelves of Sartre books, farm animals and artists-in-residence. But falling between the hectic ‘real’ Marrakech and the exclusive version enjoyed by those It-girls at legendary five-star hotels such as La Mamounia, Fellah is a happy medium. We left feeling we’d had a uniquely highbrow holiday... and a lot of fun. I’ve got the fez to prove it.

EasyJet flies from London Gatwick to Marrakech from £101.99 (easyjet.com).A superior room at Fellah starts at €136 per night (fellah-hotel.com)

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