One of the loveliest things about Les Deux Tours, the hotel in which we are staying in the Palmerie de Marrakech, is that, whilst the rooms are wonderful, the grounds are full of places to hide and dream. Hammocks, four poster beds under the trees, any number of terraces leading off the main building all with with cream calico covered sofa and chairs, swings hanging from trees, a lovely pergola-shaded outdoor dining terrace, a kitchen garden with tables and chairs in shaded spots and, of course, a huge pool with loungers and rattan chairs under parasols.

Lil’sis had a lovely day, prone by the pool. She then spent the afternoon asleep on a brass four poster, hung with white muslin drapes under the olive trees, whilst I commandeered the suntrap bar terrace for most of the day, with its comfy sofas, shaded corners, lovely wifi and handy power outlet for my laptop.

We had planned to go into Marrakech for supper, but my deadline dragged on, and Holl was feeling a little bleurgh, so we ordered a very early supper at 5pm from the room service menu but asked to have it indoors by the fire. (The inside of Les Deux Tours is just as wonderful as the outside. The restaurant building has a tucked away bar with secret hiding places, and a fire, and a vaulted sitting room, with slouchy leather armchairs.)

We sat (as above) and at seafood pastilla (her), a club sandwich and fries (me), and then a few hours later we weakened and lil’sis had three boules of chocolate ice cream, and I had a pineapple draped enormous macaroon with a lemongrass speared caramelised cherry tomatoes and pineapple from the restaurant menu. Divine.

We sadly crawled back to our room at ten to pack, as we leave tomorrow afternoon. We will be back.

As a quick recap for those of you who sensibly switched off their digital life over Christmas, I headed to Marrakech with my sister on the 28th December for an eight day holiday, split between Les Yeux Bleus, a riad in the Medina, and Les Deux Tours, a beautiful hotel set in an olive grove in the Palmerie of Marrakech.

I’ve written about things to do here that aren’t necessarily the cultural or historical ones. I figure that those are pretty obvious and appear in every guide to the city.  So I’ve concentrated on the myriad places to eat, shop and relax.

Here are my entries so far:

Hammam Bliss: Les Bains de Marrakech
Yves Saint Laurent’s Marrakech legacy: Le Jardin Majorelle
Beautiful handbags: Lalla from Marrakech with Love
Rooftop eating in the Souk (with added fashion editor spice): Terrasse des Epices
Shopping for silk embroideries: Passementerie heaven
Marrakech’s chic-est lunch spot: Grande Cafe de la Poste
Our first day in Marrakech: Walking, eating & souk-ing
Moving hotels: from a riad to the Palmerie

There’s more to come: Marrakech is an extraordinary place, and it has clearly changed enormously over the past twenty years. Whether that is for good or for bad is debatable. I’m chewing over those issues, (water, UNESCO, employment, responsible tourism and more) and will write about them later.

(The Pergola dining area at Les Deux Tours)

On New Year’s Day we moved hotels, from a riad in the Medina of Marrakech to the Palmerie, a few kilometres outside the city walls. With nearly nine full days to play with, we decided to make it a two-hotel trip, with four days for exploring the city, and then four days to sit, eat, write & read in calm, luxe surroundings.

Our second hotel is Les Deux Tours, nominally a maison d’hote, but in reality a proper hotel. Built twenty years or so ago as six villas in 32.2 acres, it later evolved into a hotel of 36 rooms, with the original six villas turned into private riads for hire, and a mix of suites and rooms, some around courtyards with their own pools. The whole is set within a grove of olive trees, with much use of billowing calico curtains, and four poster brass beds & hammocks set under the trees for lounging and dreaming.

That suits us just fine: this trip has been all about taking it easy. On New Year’s Eve, not being particular party people, and with lil’sis a little wobbly on her feet, we eschewed the packed streets and the 1000+ dirhams (£75+) lengthy set menus in the restaurants here, and had a delicious take away pizza from Fritos and an early night with our books in our room at Les Yeux Bleus for a grand total of 220 dirhams. Result.

(If you do come to Marrakech for New Year’s Eve, and wish to eat at any of the well-known restaurants, start saving now – especially if La Mamounia appeals as it charges 3500 dirhams at all three restaurants – that’s about £250, and make your reservations months in advance.)

Today my skin is baby soft, and the typist knots in my shoulders have unravelled a little. That’s because we spent yesterday morning at Les Bains de Marrakech, one of the most recommended hammams in the city. As we discovered when we tried to book at a day’s notice, it is always fully booked, so that’s another thing to book before you arrive in Morocco. However, we did manage to score two 9am slots on Sunday – New Year’s Day, which suited us fine, as we were checking out of our hotel at midday, and we didn’t go out on NYE.

Of course there are any number of cheap and cheerful hammams in the city, but I appreciate a few more luxe trimmings as I get older, and Les Bains is a perfect compromise between local bathhouse and luxury spa – a la Dior Institut at the Hotel El Saadi or the Mamounia’s legendary pamper palace.

So at Les Bains the building is a traditional riad, with Moroccan lanterns casting a roseate glow through the corridors. There are flower petals scattered everywhere, soft chaises on which to lounge in between treatments, little glasses of sugared mint tea to keep your strength up, and massages in dimly lit, gently fragranced private rooms.

We had booked a hammam & gommage for two, followed by a massage each. (There was an option to have the massage together, but I prefer my privacy.)

Although a maillot — swimming costume is obligatory, the moment we got in the hammam room, we were sluiced with buckets of hot water and asked to remove our suits. (We were in a private hammam for two people.) Of course you can keep yours on if modesty dictates or you are in a bigger hammam.  If you don’t want to get down and naked with your friend, sister or partner, then make sure you request a private, personal session. Or keep your suit on.

(I also spotted a few local ladies in the changing rooms wearing shower caps for their hammams, which hadn’t occurred to me. Even with two hair washes, I had hideous oily hammam hair for 24hours afterwards so kind of wished I had worn one too.)

After the sluicing there is relaxing in the dim heat, then there is the application of black soap, more relaxing, then the gommage. (Exfoliation with a very raspy mitt. OUCH.) Although it is very satisfying to watch the curls of old grey skin appear. Then more relaxing, then an application of some more goop, then more relaxing.

Then you are done, and it’s time to shower and wash your hair in the adjacent cubicle. (If you are only having a hammam, I’d just wash cursorily, and then head to the changing room to shower thoroughly.)

After some more relaxing, this time on a chaise with mint tea, we were led off separately for very good massages. At this point I do recommend heading for the loo whenever you get the chance – you need to drink lots of water before and after a hammam, and I had to sprint for the changing room downstairs halfway through the massage, which rather killed the mood.

I had a very thorough relaxing massage – none of that stroke-y, stroke-y aromatherapy nonsense but a skilled, therapeutic, un-knotting one, and lil’sis had a draining one, which concentrated on lymphatic drainage and the stomach.

The whole process – hammam, gommage & massage took exactly two hours, and cost 500 dirhams each – 150 for the hammam & gommage, and 350 for the massage. here are lots of other treatments available, from facials and wraps to mani/pedis, as well as lots of packaged treatments and day programmes.

Things I wish I’d packed (but didn’t): a purifying shampoo – they provide their own, but even washing my hair twice didn’t get rid of the massage oil, hair conditioner, body moisturizer & deodorant for afterwards. I also wish I had slipped a comb into my robe pocket at the start, as there wasn’t an opportunity to go back to the changing room between treatments and I had a wet, tangled birds nest on my head after the hammam shower.

Les Bains de Marrakech are open every day from 0900-1930hrs. Book well in advance.
There is a very good website with treatment & price menu at www.lesbainsdemarrakech.com

There was a point this afternoon when we were sitting on the inside terrace of the cosmopolitan Grand Café de la Poste in Geuliz — the modern section of Marrakech outside the Medina walls, when it became clear we really were on holiday.

It had taken over an hour to order & get our food (nothing fancy just omelettes, croques), and another hour to eat and flag a waitress to pay. In London or in New York I would have been incandescent with rage, yet we really didn’t care one way or the other.

The meal was excellent (not a pearl of couscous or boiled carrot in sight*), the people-watching grade A. I was happily posting photos on Instagram using the excellent free WiFi, and lil’sis was leaning back in her chair, sucking up fresh pineapple juice and watching the chic local gossipers, the good-looking French, the elegant Panama’d septuagenarians and the obligatory crazy English tourists. (Who on earth thinks YSL Trib rip offs are suitable footwear for a Marrakech lunchtime? The pavements are about as easy to walk on as the Somerset House cobbles.)

It was only day three – well day two if you consider that we spent day one travelling & then sleeping it off, and already we were in vacation zone, where time is elastic, deadlines are non-existent and so what if we finished lunch at 4pm?

Having finally paid our bill, we wandered off afterwards to buy some sequined babouches and a kaftan for my god-daughter, before heading back to the riad for a little sleep before dinner.

As I write, lil’sis is kipping under her fluffy duvet, with Ninou, the riad cat purring at her side. We really couldn’t be happier.

*I adore Moroccan food, but I had had four vegetable couscous meals in a row, thanks to some sketchy restaurant recommendations, and enough was enough.