As well as being one of Morocco’s most highly awarded ecological hotels set in the stunning High Atlas Mountains, Kasbah du Toubkal also produces a quarterly magazine with an archive bulging with features about this enigmatic country. Read on.

 

Fez Medina is a labyrinth of arms-width alleyways full of artisans in tiny shops, still working in the way of their forefathers. Read on…

A flurry of red and white butterflies in slit-sided silk pantaloons enter the room with a fanfare and sensual exuberance, their hips gyrating and flicking in a staccato rhythm. Read on…

A Vietnames astrologer takes the role of a Bhuddist monk; a Moroccan hill-top hotel plays the part of a temple…life is never simple in movie making. Read on…

There comes a time when we all have to realise age is creeping up on us. Mine was when I was faced with a steep walk up the mountainside from Imlil in the foothills of the High Atlas Mountains to my hotel high above. Read on…

Despite its name, the Agafay Desert is not the sand desert of Sahara and Lawrence of Arabia fame, more a vast, undulating, stony landscape crisscrossed with tracks and dusty roads, cut through with dry riverbeds. Read on…

Avenue l’Istiqlal is the major commercial thoroughfare of Essaouira, but more in the style of souks and cupboard-sized shops jam-packed with everything from kids’ plastic sandals to mounds of sheep innards and gizzards than the chi-chi boulevards of St. Tropez. And a darned sight more interesting. Read on…

Just as Henry Ford was famous for saying you could have his Model T in any colour you wanted so long as it was black, in Chefchaouen in northern Morocco’s Rif Mountains you can paint your home in any colour you choose – just so long as it’s blue. Read on…

I’ve always been beguiled by tuk-tuks, those strange little workhorses, half motor-bike, half mini-pic-up that in one form or another can be found almost anywhere in the world.     Read on…

I hear someone shout, ‘Hello’, but when I look around I can’t see anyone. They call again, and following the sound of the voice I see a young man perched on the branch of a walnut tree above my head, camouflaged by the dappled sun and shadow of the leaves. I wave and move on. Read on…

A world of souks, snake-charmers, and storytellers; gardens filled with exotic cacti and palm trees rub shoulders with bustling markets  awash with colors and smells that have scarcely changed in centuries. Welcome to magical Marrakesh. Read on…

The Sahara Desert is far more than golden sand dunes that stretch as far as the eye can see. It is course, stony ground, washed out ruins and deserted villages. Read on…