A large group of African women dressed in multicolored long Kaftans makes me realize that I unfortunately packed the wrong clothes. My summer wardrobe consists of tiny Abercombie & Fitch shorts, mini skirts, t-shirts and tank tops. It’s the first time in my life that something like this has happened. I’ve got that strange feeling that I’m going to learn something different this trip.

“Manicure Miss?” I have time. At a spa close to my gate, I pick out a bright orange nail polish. I’ve never used this color before. My feet are in someone’s hands, and with my eyes closed, I am finally starting to dream about a distant and unknown mosque… Suddenly I hear an announcement over a loudspeaker… several times, and it’s not a Salat… It’s my name they are calling, my last call! I am apparently late for my flight and my nails are still wet; the whole plane heading to Casablanca is waiting for my pedicure to dry.

I decide to run barefoot with the resort Marc Jacobs in my hand. As I enter the aircraft, all the passengers clap their hands very loudly, while the tall, tanned flight attendant whispers in my ear a little intrigued “Why a manicure? You are flying to Morocco where the best Mehndi is available. Silly of you, don’t you think?”

I’ve had thoughts only the next day when the plane landed. The red dust of the landscape mixed with the evident Sub-Saharan heat made me realize one thing: The color of the nail polish… that at least, I got right.

I am a staying at a friend’s ryad, inside the South Medina, (Arabic for “city”) in the Zitoun El-Jedid (Neighborhood of Olives). I’m near the Mellah, the historically Jewish quarter, the oldest section of Marrakech and the past domain of Sultans and their retinues. Hassan, dressed in a long orange cotton djellaba and red Fez hat (my grandfather used to wear one) welcomes me holding a card with my name at the entrance of the Medina. “Salam Aleki, Madame Joelle”.

Cars are not allowed, so Hassan takes my wheeled luggage and leads me to a confluence of several ancient, salmon-pink,  crenelated walled alleys full of pedestrians, bicycles, scooters, donkey carts, motorbikes, cats, children playing soccer in the manner of Brazilians, small antique shops, carpets dealers, and lot and lots of men calling me Gazelle.

At the end of a short alley, a small wooden door opens in front of me. The door has two brass knobs in the shape of Khamsah : one on top for men, the other, lower, for women. No need to knock….

Hassan disappears with my suitcase. Queen Nour’s blue eyes are always the same; she’s there waiting for me and she smiles.

Today listen to: Kissat Hob

She invited her friends and inaugurated the beautiful dining room at her Riad Nour. The table was adorned with colorful china from Italian fashion house Missoni, blue glass from Bohemia, laced place-mats from the region of Ceara, north of Brazil and surrounded by stunning Syrian mother-of-pearl chairs, light blue velvet sofas, heavily embroidered Indian pillows from Rajasthan, red Moroccan roses, multicolored rose petals and lots, lots, lots of candles everywhere — mostly around the pool of the internal riad patio.

Hassan, the man who came to pick me up the day I arrived, bought hundreds of roses and spent the afternoon throwing their petals all around the house. He then took care of drinks, set the table with our help while his sister Latifa, the cook, took care of the Moroccan coucous, lamb chops , marinated eggplants, quiche (especially prepared for me as I don’t eat meat) and other Moroccan delicacies.

Among Adriana’s guests, a top haute couture designer Zineb Joundy, from Casablanca, former Comissaire de la Mode in France for Les ‘Temps du Maroc‘. Known for her intricate embroidering inlays with precious stones, and cultivated pearls on brocades especially created for her in India, her clients are mostly royal family brides, well informed Bohemian jet-setters who wish a different ready-to-wear look — and hopefully me in a very short time (she’s always very busy).

After Zineb Joundy’s Paris-Dubai-Bahrain-London-Seville-Adis Abeba-New York groundbreaking shows, she brought a small suitcase with samples of her latest productions from India where she spent all of last month, especially for me to see. We all took a look before dinner (as she is also staying at the riad). A French burgundy velvet coat and a double faced vibrant brocade kaftan sewn in real gold threads.

Trying on those luxurious fabrics I realize how Zineb really understands the embrace of textiles, wholeheartedly marrying them, magnificently slipping from the most fluid to the heaviest with such an ease and whirlwind effervescence. But we must rush, the guests are almost here.

Adriana is ready. I am late as usual, taking pictures nonstop. On her way down to the stairs I ask her to please bring me my intimate underwear as I am still in the shower, some guests have arrived and I absolutely can’t run down. Her answer is the following: “I am awfully sorry, with these shoes (Golden Yves Saint Laurent gigantic wood platforms) I can only go down the stairs. “Ok,”  I say, “Have Hassan bring it to me!” Her reply: “Hassan? Your intimate apparel? I am afraid it will not be possible, he’s a Muslim, he cannot go around the house with things like that! Wear nothing, you are pretty enough as you are!”

Dinner goes very well. The atmosphere is involving, the music is nostalgically magic, wines, champagne and rosé are served throughout the evening. In front of me a gentleman tells a joke in perfect French; He wears a a very elegant dark blue velvet jacket similar to the ones I saw at the souq this morning at Beldi. After realizing I am from New York, he tells me he has been the ambassador of Lebanon in that city for twelve years. I then find out a few minutes later that my father grew up with his best friends in Beirut approximately fifty years ago.

Sitting next to him is his wife Margherita — a Spanish entrepreneur with real estate resorts in Acapulco Mexico, dressed in the latest 2008 Spring-Summer upbeat Boho-style Ungaro crepe-de-soie with an emerald pendant from India –  and Youssef, who laugh, amused at the incredible coincidence. He now works in public relations in Marrakech but is originally from Belgium and once more as a coincidence, his parents and mine are today neighbours in Bruxelles.

These coincidences get me tired. I decide to switch company and to sit in the living room for liquors next to my beloved idol, Claude Challe, the idiosyncratic figure in France’s musical landscape, a catalyst and visionary musician. Claude always managed to be on the cutting edge of youth fashions across the 1960s and 1970s, reappearing in the late ’90s with even greater appeal.

He is sitting on the green couch next to a very nice and tanned middle-aged couple from the island of Palma de Majorca, both wearing impeccable embroidered white linen kaftans. The lady’s expression is one of attentive surprise while Claude, transported, is elaborating with enthusiasm details about the Thai brothel’s sex menus in the city of Bangkok. He explains how it’s good to be washed, fed and taken care of. The lady turns to her husband and asks, “Amor, temos esto en la Espagna?” (Do we have this is Spain?) I did not hear the husband answer but most of all I was interested to speak personally with Claude, not necessarily about sex but about his spiritual and creative mind.

This fashion and nightlife entrepreneur, and new age guru finally is in my hands. He tells me with non-chalance and a bit of bitterness that the mp3 world of pirate downloads world took his stamina away. He confides to me that he has more ambitious projects, and that he wants to do films.

With the depth of my best of stares, a studied frown simulating intrigued interest and a wide smile I seduce him to speak more on this precious information firstly and unconsciously for my own curiosity then for the blog. Therefore I ask: “Claude, will you do a movie? What kind of movie?” I don’t know if he really looked at me, but he carried on telling me the movie title: “Mister Sun”. It’s about the changes people, apparently angels, will do to improve it. It will be filmed in India and probably in Thailand. Proudly, with an enormous smile, he wispers in my ear almost as a secret that he invited the Dalai Lama who has already accepted to be a part of the movie.

His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama? The Movie? Claude Challe? The six degrees of separation? The rose petals Wow! So much for one only dinner.

Thank you so much Dri! (Adriana)

Joelle’s picks:

The Couture Designer :

Zineb Joundy : Casablanca +212 63050627 -Paris: +336-86111508-Delhi +91 9818070212

The protagonists who are appreciated as much by locals as visitors are a melange of merchants, tooth-pullers, snake-charmers, fortune and story tellers, soothsayers and witch doctors, all vying for attention with loud cries and songs totally at odds with the place name which roughly translates as ‘Assembly of the Dead.’

At the center of this nerve center of Marrakech is the food market, where smoke from cauldrons and grills and light from dozens of kerosene lanterns creates an eerie haze under the desert sky. Gnaouas, desendants of Sudanese Slaves, provide the music soundtrack, with metal castanets, lutes and drums. This is also one of the few places where you’ll see Marrakechis dining out en masse.

Also known as ‘La Place ‘, Jemaa El Fna is as old as Marrakech itself. The urban clearing, as irregular in shape as an accident of nature, thronged day and night by this carnival of local life it was laid out as a parade ground by Almoravids in front of their royal fortress (Dar El Hajar). When the succeeding Almohads built a new palace to the South, the open ground passed to the public and became what it remains today — a place for gathering, trading, entertaining and even occasional riots.

Apart from a gypsy, in a previous lives I have been a white magic healer and an alchemist’s assistant. There were no doubts about my excitement around these witches, medicinal herbs, mystical powders, and Berber doctors (some of them very handsome by the way) whose teachings came straight from the desert. I would not know if amber, feathers or ostrich eggs could be used in my personal case for decorative purposes or for honest and powerful healing techniques.

Freshly squeezed orange juice (the sweetest I have ever tasted), all kind of nuts and confectionery together with the mysticism of a bustle filled with veiled Moroccan women speaking French and holding my hands for both Mehndi, palm reading and fortune telling completely spin my head around.

Life in this arena of multifaceted smells and colors at sunset reaches its peak. If Morocco is in your near plan I strongly suggest you join this fray, armed of course with a lot of change, or if you wish to watch the buzz from the sidelines step onto a quiet terrace cafe, such as Cafe Glacier. (024 422 3225)

As the air fills with smoke from grilling meat and the aroma of spices, the square fills with storytellers while I try in vain to explain to a Berber ‘doctor’ that if I burn pure trunks of Sandalwood on charcoal in my Fifth Avenue New York apartment a line of 10 firetrucks, fire alarms and the police will take me straight to jail and the evil eye ‘s plan then will be successful over me!

Jemaa El Fna has been recognized by UNESCO as part of mankind’s cultural heritage and its preservation is now secured.

Hamdallah!

Today listen to:

Good sounds and creative music takes place in restaurants, cigar bars, lounges, cafes and exotic hotels. Fortunately it was never a problem picking the place where I’d spend the evenings after long days of shopping, being a tourist for a few hours or getting pampered. Here are some suggestions in the case you decide to go.

Like everywhere else, there is always a tight connection between the people you meet at night in Paris, Rio, Istanbul, Beirut or Tel Aviv. Born in Tunisia, Marcel Chich — owner and founder of one of the most prestigious establishments in the chic neighborhood of Gueliz, Le Comptoir Darna — is one of them.

Le Juif le Plus Arabe — “The most Arab of all Jews” as he defines himself, moved to the red city twelve years ago with the intention of pursuing his “Fantasme Orientale” thus creating something different, something to add to his Paris lifestyle he felt at the time was no longer complete.

A friend of Claude Challe, another Tunisian Jew and today a most acclaimed artist, musician, dj and creator of the worldwide Buddha Bar concept, Marcel Chich was blessed enough to receive from Claude the Khamsa compilation assembled with his grand orchestra, available to buy on their website and from which everyday I’ll propose a new song during this week’s posts.

In the Old Orient, comptoirs or counters were organizations based on exchanging spices, exotic flavors, and served as an intermediary between suppliers and customers.

Sitting at this moment at Le Comptoir Darna, in the company of the attentive-to-detail Marcel, its walls resplendent with black and red tadlekt, I am listening to an Arabic orchestra churning out Egyptian and Lebanese classics, most of which I remember vaguely — my grandfather used to sing in Beirut. I feel strange, yet somehow at home, even if I have never been in any of those countries before.

A climax in the atmosphere takes place with the arrival of several young and sexy belly dancers dressed up only with what’s necessary, descending a slinky grand staircase littered with pink rose petals. Some older and more experienced ones carry candlesticks on large trays on their heads, dancing in the manner of true Bahianas during Carnival times in Brazil. So strange…

Sipping my Champagne with a small chocolate souffle decorated with rose petals, I can’t help associate this signature exchange between Marcel’s unconscious Jewish gypsiness in his stories about a ring with a star of David lost in a royal bathroom in Istanbul and the surrounding Caravanserai of cultural and ethnic diversity. A blending mix of good looking locals, young European models, wide-eyed tourists, sharper expats all clapping hands in the ryhthms of this nowhere-else Middle Eastern fabulous-ness.

My dinners were hosted by charming people, romantic places such as the restaurant Villa-Rosa whose refined and calm atmosphere of luxurious red velvet furniture and candlelight evoke the Napoleon III-style ambiance of Paris hotel Costes. The chef proposes Italian as well as a combination of new French cuisine with Arabic specialties inside magnificent lounges or on the patio combining the pleasant ambiance of a Moroccan ryad.

Noureddine Fakkir, one of the partners and a key persona of Marrakesh night life, and the handsome public relations professional Youssef Gourad (whose fault is not his to be so charming!) are in charge of several other hip places like the Brasserie Orientale Le Tanjia for a Pizza or a vegetarian couscous in an elegant, grey 1940′s colonial decor, the traditional Marrakshi, richely decorated with Zelij tiling — one of my favorite restaurants, perfect for sipping a Moroccan Mint tea at sunset over the magical and hectic Jemaa el Fna.

Young, Western fashion conscious, and hip is their crowd; from night to the next morning especially when it comes in the middle of the sublime Palmeraie desert at Nikki Beach to listen to amazing arabesque electro-beats with — believe it or not — the best sushi in the area.

Bo-zin — with its slogan “drinking and fooding” — whose lounge area overlooks a spectacular garden of bamboo, palm trees, cactus, papyrus and other desert vegetation, while inside deals are done on sofas in the low-lit nooks.

Bo-Zin is located a good 15 minute ride out of town, so take advantage of the pollution-free sky and indulge in some serious stargazing…. Tomorrow after all, is another new day.

Today listen to:

Joelle’s Tips:

The Restaurants-Lounges:

Le Comptoir Darna – Villa-Rosa – Bo-zin – Le Tanjia – Le Marrakshi – Nikki Beach

Professor Zoubida Charrouf

After the enriching experience at the Hammam in Marrakech, I understood the importance given over centuries to the skin restorative and various therapeutic properties of Argan oil in Morocco and very soon, thanks to the local efforts made in the country, hopefully the rest of the world will as well.

This month in New York, Kiehl’s — a respected old-world apothecary in the East Village for over 150 years representing a blend of cosmetic, pharmaceutical, herbal, and medicinal knowledge developed through the generations — also launched for the first time their Superbly Restorative Argan Skin Preparation.

The fairly-traded ingredient is carefully cultivated in the Women’s Targanine Cooperative. In return for planting and harvesting of the trees, the women’s communities benefit from an improved socio-economic situation and preservation of their environment and culture. Since I am in the country I decide to contact Professor Zoubida Charrouf of the Faculty of Science Chemistry department in Rabat with the help of Charlotte Adjchavanich, who handles Kiehl’s Global communications.

With Professor Charrouf’s findings about the substance being packed with vitamin E and unsaturated fatty acids that can lower cholesterol, reduce wrinkles and juvenile acne, and speed healing of abrasions, interest in the Argan tree was renewed. The decision by UNESCO in the late 1990′s to declare the endangered Argan forest area a biosphere reserve has also contributed to this interest.

When I called this extremely busy woman, today an example and inspiration for hundreds of Moroccan women, she thankfully saved some of her precious time to prepare everything I needed for my visit to the Cooperative, 70 km from Agadir. Professor Zoubida ensured herself that the women, very friendly and welcoming, would prepare especially for my visit both types of the Argan oil extraction, the traditional and the improved.

She then charges one of her assistants, a young and very smart Amazigh woman called Hnia, to take care of me. Here we are, Hnia, myself, Abul Salam (the vintage Mercedes driver) and my friend Adriana.  Poor Adriana, who almost died of heat, tiredness and probably boredom too — until we approached a vendor in a local Souq near the main city on the Middle Atlas Mountains who sold her three embroidered goat skin baskets with colorful wool to be used for flower containers in her ryad.

Hnia picks us up near Agadir after we drove the first three hours. While looking at the beautiful landscape on the road, Hnia enthusiastically tells me stories of the women and details about the cooperative. In the beginning, Argan oil was produced in their homes while taking care of children, cattle and their households but unfortunately they couldn’t deliver a high-end product; their homemade oil was often packaged in leftover plastic bottles and sold on the side of the road or in local souqs, or marketplaces.

Meanwhile, farmers collected all the Argan seeds available, and then throttled the trees to get more fruit. The trees drooped; the local economy remained relatively stagnant. Professor Charrouf decided to found cooperatives to tackle the problems head on and start employing the disenfranchised Amazigh women who had discovered Argan oil’s benefits to begin with.

We finally arrive, a lot of dust around us but the air of the mountain is wonderful! I am exited to meet other women at work in such a different environment. The cooperatives now employ approximately 800 women full and part-time, many of them poor, widowed or divorced, and all of them Amazigh.

I am introduced to the principal of them. She welcomes me warmly and takes us to the work place. A group of 20 or so are working at cracking the stones; for that, Hnia tells me, they are paid an average of $100 a month and receive a share in the cooperative’s profits. In contrast, a woman making Argan oil on her own earns no more than $20 or $30 monthly. Also, Amazigh women don’t traditionally sell goods themselves, so without the co-op they’re dependent on male relatives to sell the oil and bring back all the money earned.

To ensure the quality of the product, Charrouf replaced much of the traditional extraction methods with a mechanized process that extended the oil’s shelf life from six months to two years. Women still crack the stones, because no machine can match their dexterity. I tried myself a few times but was very unfortunate and got slightly hurt. They all laughed.

On the conservation front, each of Charrouf’s workers plants 10 new Argan trees a year. Most significantly, as the region’s economic growth is increasingly tied to the Argan, villagers have become much more reluctant to let their goats graze in the trees.

Business is booming. In addition, the Amal cooperative in Tamanar received the International Slow Food Award for biodiversity in 2001. Drawn by increasing press coverage, 100 tourists descend upon the Amal cooperative each day, buying edible oil and cosmetics products. In response to increased demand, Charrouf recently grouped the cooperatives under one umbrella organization in order to standardize their operation and accounting systems and to expand their bargaining power. This organization is called GEI TARGANINE and it was created in October 2003.

I am ready to drive back. I learned about all the process, Adriana stuck the inviting toasted nuts in her mouth without listening to the women’s warnings. She frowned, they all laughed, once more a sense of solidarity and mutual admiration took place. I proudly kiss Hnia, buy a few bottles of Argan oil, send my blessing to Zoubida the tenacious professor, and will soon embrace the sensuality of a bath ritual… most important with the women of this community empowered, my conscience is just in heaven!

Today listen to: Astahel

Joelle’s Tips:

The product: Kiehl’s Superbly Restorative Argan Skin Preparation.

Professor Zoubida Charrouf
Département de Chimie
Faculté des Sciences, Université Mohammed V
Avenue Ibn Batouta, Rabat
Tel : 212 61 37 21 42
Email : zcharrouf@menara.ma; zcharrouf@yahoo.fr
Site web : www.association-ibnalbaytar.com

Moroccan women are adept at using nature’s bounty to beautify and care for every bit of the body. Use of such ingredients in their beauty regime brings them a feeling of well-being and of an undisputed natural glow.

The secrets of getting the best from specific plants in a beauty regime is an art that is whispered from mother to daughter, down through the generations, ensuring Moroccans continued beauty and health.

Moroccans of both sexes participate in joyful bathing rituals prior to celebrations dotting their lives. The dotting of my own life started with a text on my BlackBerry: “Find yourself at Les Bains de Marrakech at 3:15 and make sure you are free for the next three and a half hours!”

Near the mosque in a ryad-style hammam I have been washed, exfoliated and drained by candlelight, submerged with rose petals in dripping bath waters aromatized with rose, orange flower and amber essential oils. Enchanted by the sensuality of the music and jet-lagged, I completely lost the the notion of time. But before leaving I made sure to be revealed every little secret so I could go and find everything in the Souq to bring back home. Here is how it goes:

Many simple objects are involved in the hammam ritual. In the first room where heat levels are barely higher than outside the hammam, I was lathered with black soap made from black olives. (I then brought some to my mother and sister who did not quite understand what that was). The thick, dark yet soft paste is appreciated for its calming and softening properties.

Afterwards a Kessa , a coarse glove was used to exfoliate my skin to perfection. The important to remember to rinse and rinse again. Once all the impurities have been purged, white or green colored Ghassoul — a kind of clay — comes into play. Ghassoul comes in a powder form or in small bars. It needs to be blended with orange flower water or rose water to turn it into a sweetly smelling and malleable paste. White Ghassoul was applied gently to my face, the green version with Henna on my body and hair.

Habiba, tells me “Ghassoul makes your skin super silky and soft, Henna however is the perfect plant Moroccan ladies use as they generally have very long, glossy and thick hair. It regulates sebum production and smooths down scales and split ends so that the hair appears glossy. It also adds volume to fine hair.

The next step is to slip on some wooden clogs and enter the third and final room which is heated to 50 degrees C. My time here I must tell you was a little brief as it was the first time. I they quickly sprinted into a cold shower to cool down. Finally the best yet was to come: A massage with either Argan Oil or ” Green Oil” only found in Morocco.

I was now ready for the looks, after all Adriana was giving a dinner reception in my honor so I really wanted to make an effort in having that enchanting and mysterious oriental look. I ringed my eyes with Kohl eyeliner with an applicator called a mirwed . Then I used a swak, a dried strip of tee bark that can be obtained from attarines (herbalists) which helps to whiten teeth, protect the gums and maintain sweet smelling breath. I next applied acker to my lips: 100% natural, this lip treatment is sold in a little earthenware pot. Apply with damp fingers for guaranteed impact. See the picture below and tell me what you think.

This excursion into the world of well-being and beauty is also a discovery of one of the most beautiful countries like Morocco. Taking time out to pamper yourself in this ‘ancestral spa’ way is like sipping from the fountain of youth.

Today listen to: Hanina Jasmon Mix

Joelle’s Tips:

The Arttarines or Herbalists:

Herboriste La Baraka: Medical plants, spices,essential oils, Natural creams and cosmetics, Argan oil, natural pigments- 118 face fontaine moissine Marrakech- tel +212-44 427471-e-mail: contat@immobilier-herboristelabaraka.com

Herboristerie Bendriss: Ghassoul, Kohl, Mirwed, Swak, Henna- 21-22 Kissariat El Jadida Hay Salam Mellah Marrakech -tel + 212 79 846038

The Spas and Hammams: Les Bains de Marrakech – La Sultana Spa-

Photo Credits: Moroccan Women:

Renowned internationally as a successful, trendy fashion accessories designer, she had formerly been selling her designs out of a charming boutique in the heart of São Paulo. The shop is filled with custom jewelry, good luck charms, Brazilian amulets (reflecting her country culture), Texan Cowboy hats, Djellabas, Kaftans and beach and Yacht-wear cover ups.

Her limited series wrist watches, sandals, cell phone accessories and jewelry are custom designed for Brazilian companies like Guerreiro and Nokia. They enhance the sparkle of Jet-setters worldwide, especially on the Saint-Tropez-Ibiza-Saint Barth-Capri-London and Paris circuits.

With archetypes like Talitha Guetty, the muse of Yves Saint Laurent during the 60s, Adriana a few years ago confided to me she had a dream: Like Talitha she wished to have a living role in the “Magic, Red City of Marrakech and among others, own her personal Petit Palais that today she calls Ryad Nour meaning light.

Talitha had a style she made her own, tossing together Yves Saint Laurent, Palestinian wedding dresses, Ossie Clark, Valentino couture, Balinese wraps, little white leather boots and piles of dramatic Kenneth Jay Lane fake jewelry with a bohemian aplomb that Kate Moss might envy and Diana Vreeland think is terrific.

And, unconsciously, like some fascinating women at the turn of the century, icons that Andriana in the mist of her youth probably doesn’t know yet, Misia Sert in Paris, the baroness Karen Von Blixen in Africa, and princess Gayatri Devi, the Maharani in India, she chooses to pick her part-time destiny in the Marrakech Medina renouncing her friends, her family, a comfortable life in São Paulo, as well as her faith of origin; she has now converted devotedly to Islam.

I am now in her newly renovated terrace with the help of a long time Brazilian friend of mine and partner, the interior designer Beto Galvez. We are sunbathing overlooking Jean Paul Gaultier roofs, drinking fresh lemonade with mint, honey and ginger, a recipe I brought a few years ago from Rishikesh in the foot of the Himalayas. Latifa, her cook, is discussing with her why the Moroccan eggplant appetizers do not taste like the others. Latifa’s a cook temporarily borrowed from a Casablanca entrepreneur — a friend and today a mentor Adriana met in Saint Tropez .

I try to concentrate on Latifa’s explanation with attention but I can’t help being overwhelmed by the mixture of smells and sounds of Juoao Gilberto’s Bossa Nova, Eagles Hotel California, Rolling Stones Angie and the 12 o clock call for the salat prayers coming from all the mosques in each and every roof speaker adjacent to our ryad.

While she learns Arabic and belly dance, I beg her to understand not to necessarily expect from her servants the same treatment she gets from her Brazilian nanny of 20 or more years. I know for sure I am the one losing the battle.

Everywhere next to Adriana these days, in the Souqs with suppliers, at the Arab Baths for royal treats or at her favorite restaurant the traditional Dar Moha and former residence of fashion designer Pierre Balmain in the 70′s or Villarosa alone or in company of royal family acquaintances, night scene key personas, French and Brazilians guests in the world of fashion, design and entertainment, we were treated with respect and devoted hospitality surrounded by Hassans, Salims, Abdallahs, Youssis, Noureddines, Muhammads, Camils, Simon Hameds, Nassers and plenty of Abdul Salams.

I am tired from the intensity of the day, I walk my way to the princess green room, a tone carefully picked by 80 year old interior designer Bill Willis, the undisputed maestro of grand Arab-chic homes of part-time Marrakechis like Yves Saint Laurent and Bernard-Henri Levy. Bill no longer is professionally active but was wittily charmed by Adriana with a smile and a Brazilian Figa amulet. Several pillows with small elephants from India are neatly organized on my bed.

Finally sitting on a charming Syrian mother-of-pearl inlaid chair, Adriana tells me she decided to give herself a Sabbatical year.  She’ll evaluate the possibilities of partnerships in the real estate business, spending time in the creation of her Nour collection consisting of expensive and luxurious Kaftans, home fragrances, embroidered beach bags and the lifestyle of being one of the most talked-about hostesses in the mysterious Red Clay city.

I look at her, smile, and realize that only a few months in Marrakech during her sabbatical year, my dear friend and ‘little sister’ Adriana Bittencourt already reigns supreme.

Today listen to the song: Cest la Vie

Joelle on Adrian’s Tips:

The Interior Designers Beto Galvez e Nórea De Vitto / São Paulo
Tel: + 55 (11) 3085-5035 /(11) 3062-1913/ E- mail: contato@bninteriores.com.br

The Restaurants: Dar Moha 81,rue Dar El Bacha Medina, Marrakech

Reservations:+ 212 24 38 62 64 -E-mail: darmoha.ma

Villa Rosa Restaurant
Reservations: +212 24 44 96 35- Email: villarosamarrakech@yahoo.fr