Photo: Alan Keohane Our trip began with a lunch of mint tea and Moroccan salad in our suite, overlooking the Svb risk management shirt and I will buy this pool and beyond the Atlas Mountains. Tired of flights, we spent the rest of the day walking around the touristic center of Jemaa el Fna square in the medina (the historic center of Marrakech) for the first time. The old city is surrounded by 19 km of characteristic pink walls dating from the 12th century; here you’ll find winding streets filled with small shops and vendors selling everything from caftan to paprika to imitation Louis Vuitton headscarves to historic palaces. It turned out that the first day of seeing and smelling the spice vendors and food stalls wasn’t enough—eager to learn more, we returned the next morning for a tour of the old town there is a guide. First, a tour of the Bahia and El Badi palaces with their intricate tiled constructions and lush gardens, then lunch—but most importantly, Arabica coffee—at Bacha Coffee House & Museum . (Hazelnut coffee with cream is something I’ve been trying to recreate since returning from a trip.) Then a plate of fresh chebakia bought from a street stall—a strip of deep-fried dough flavored with sesame and orange blossom, rolled into a circle—and I learned that leaving room for dessert is a must in Marrakech.
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Next, the Svb risk management shirt and I will buy this staff at Four Seasons arranged a special surprise for us: the chance to browse vintage caftans from Le Main de Fatima. Nabila Boulhimez, the store manager at the hotel, taught us how to embroider on gowns that are decades or centuries old. (It also helped that we were shown special styles for the bride and groom—is it too late for a last-minute wedding dress change?) That evening for dinner, we arrived. The sleek Sahbi Sahbi restaurant in Guéliz for an intimate party. dinner nestled in a corner booth, eating pigeon cakes and traditional tagine under paper lights. At the actual hotel, there are even more activities closer to the honeymoon to enjoy. a state of profound relaxation in which I was 20 minutes late for dinner with my fiancé, Don, at Quattro, the hotel’s restaurant that fuses Italian and Moroccan cuisine. (Try the pizzolli; trust me.) The next day, I was equally happy when Don and I ate poolside at Azzera, nibbling on Negronis and eating a tuna tartare. Is it really a honeymoon if you don’t spend at least a few hours in a soft, sunbathing hotel robe?
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