This irritated me. In Morocco, of course, you can be wrapped in five-star luxury one minute and bouncing along an unmade road the next. But there is also a sense, in today's youth-obsessed world, that exotic travel is off-limits to anyone over 40, or not on honeymoon. Anyway, we went.
We decided not to stay in Marrakech itself but about 25km outside the city in a hotel called Tigmi, in the village of Tagadert. Driving south from Marrakech, you leave the new developments of hotels and golf courses behind and head into countryside that looks as if it hasn't changed since ancient times. You see shepherds abiding in the fields and, in the distance, the occasional figure on a donkey makes its way across the hillside.
The road that was so rough that the taxi could have fallen into one of the potholes, never to be seen again. Surely we would find a building site full of rubble and scaffolding at the end? No, here was Tigmi, offering a cool green welcome after the dusty journey. Tigmi is converted from original village houses and has a seductive, rambling charm. It's full of nooks and corners, with staircases that lead to terraces furnished with cushioned divans and courtyards hung with bougainvillea and filled with birdsong.
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