Desert Rose

This trip has been long coming.

We've planned this ages ago. Separately.

I have been dreaming vivid hues against a background of terracotta plains. Of cacophony of sounds and assault of sights. And of oasis of calm. A juxtaposition of state of mind.

The only thing we were not planning at that point of dreaming was the fact that we got married. And had a baby.

So we packed up our 5.5 month-old baby girl and headed for Marrakech. Desert rose as it's affectionaly known.

She did not disappoint. The city. (And so did our baby - did not disappoint that is.)

We were welcomed at an international airport oozing in modern architecture. The ever so gentle breeze a surprise once we got passed the security of the glass airport doors. The desert plains and the palm trees in the distance.

We were mesmerised. Instantly.

For 8 nights, we were part of the family at Riad Porte Royale. Philip the riad's owner ensured we got a room with a bath-tub (our babe after all needs all the pampering she can get). Mohamed took care of all our needs (from arranging a trip to the Atlas mountains to finding an open pharmacy on a  Sunday where we can purchase an extra can of formula milk when the one we brought with us was running out!). Hajiba was there to ensure that we had all our meals taken care of. And for the life of me, this other elderly woman whose name escapes me - also went marketing, cooked and ensured we slept in made up rooms each time we came home exhausted from conquering yet another hidden alleyway in the souks.

Meandering the cobbled dusty streets of the old town. Tackling the crazy-near-suicidal traffic. Getting lost in the souks. Beating the heat of Marrakech with mint tea. I was constantly intrigued. Of course, my brains were working overtime - remembering that landmark of vivid blue doorway just after the passageway arch. Remembering the nth right turn we had taken on exit of the riad iron doors.

My friends thought we were suicidal to tackle Marrakech with a 5.5 month old baby. I think so too sometimes. The thought of carrying my baby in my arms crossing the at the busy traffic light with traffic that has absolutely no regard for the the amber or red lights for that matter just sends shivers down my spine. But all is forgiven when my memories fleet to the times, total strangers - local Marrakech folks (women and little girls) just came up to our baby and kissed her. (Ok, hubs freaked out after about the third kiss from a total stranger). This is the thing - everyone, and I mean E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E loves babies in Marrakech. Even the local 7 year olds - I kid you not.

There's so much to tell about Marrakech. Words escape me.

Marrakech is really a city to be experienced.

We're already plotting another return. When our baby is a bit older.

For now, please link yourself here and here for teasers of Marrakech.