At the risk of evoking absolutely no sympathy whatsoever, there comes a point where writing about luxury travel can test even the most creative of minds; it’s easier than you’d think for the endless parade of pillow menus and three squillion thread count to merge into one, and describing such experiences without reaching for The Travel Writer’s Book of Clichés is harder than you think. (Yes, I know, boo hoo).
But, of course, luxury doesn’t always mean gold-plated bathtubs and butlers who anticipate your every whim. Sometimes, it’s about swapping the opulence for something refreshingly different – like the simple joy of watching the sun set over endless dunes and distant mountains with a cocktail in hand and a best friend by your side, marvelling at how it is the sky, in this arid and otherworldly landscape, could feel so big. And that’s exactly the luxury that Habitas Caravan Agafay delivers in abundance.
Despite being just a 45-minute drive from the hustle of Marrakech, the Agafay desert couldn’t be further removed from the famed noise and technicolour madness of the Medina. Almost lunar in its rocky barrenness, with camels wandering lazily at the side of the road, as we sped along towards our destination (I say sped – the potholes here could put anything the UK has to offer to shame) the manic energy of the city seemed to melt away a little more with every mile. Arriving in the late afternoon, we were welcomed with warm smiles and the tradition of a seed planting ceremony – a simple yet charming gesture offered to every guest, symbolic of becoming part of the ‘Habitas family’ and ensuring that a piece of us would remain here always. From our first glance around the place, remaining always seemed a welcome invitation. Slightly nervous about the idea of overnighting in tents – in the desert – our fears of hypothermia were soon allayed by the next-level accommodation that could surely only call a tent a far-distant relative. Bedouin on the outside, Bentley on the inside, these ‘tented-suites’ offer tastefully chic décor, full en suite facilities, and just about the comfiest, hugest, bed I’d ever encountered. If only all camping were this good.
Our first night set the tone for what would be an experience both restorative and adventurous, and totally unlike anywhere we’d ever been before. A dinner of fragrant tagine and saffron-laced couscous (warning, portions are so generous and the food so good it’s impossible to not overindulge) was followed by an evening around the fire, the rhythmic beat of traditional Amazigh drumming filling the night air as we sank into plush cushions beneath a canopy of stars. There was no itinerary to follow, no obligations – just the desert’s quiet magic and the joy of good company. The icing on the cake, given the stark temperature drop once night falls, was the hot water bottle tucked between our sheets to ensure a toasty trip to slumberland. Blissful.
The following morning, we awoke to the gentle sounds of the desert – nothing but the rustling breeze and the distant chime of goat bells. Breakfast was a leisurely affair, featuring honey-drizzled msemen and fresh fruit, setting us up for a morning of gentle exploration (gentle because, again: no self-control). Wandering through the grounds, we were delighted to stumble across the beautifully cultivated vegetable gardens, an unexpected oasis in the arid landscape, and spent time making friends at the donkey stables. A passing peacock in full regalia almost startled us, but by now we’d come to expect the unexpected. That afternoon, adventure beckoned. I have Facetimed my children from some of the most glamorous locations in the world (did I mention I know I’m lucky?), but it was a first for all of us when I dialled in from astride a camel. I couldn’t let them miss out on the sight of their mother, in traditional garb, being bumped along treacherous desert tracks, rocks crunching under the seemingly indestructible feet of my (hopefully) trusty be-humped steed. By the time we returned, the sky had begun its nightly transformation, shifting from deep amber to dusky violet. Another cocktail by the infinity pool, the water mirroring the vastness of the sky, seemed the sensible option, before another evening of delicious food, a rather good Pinot Gris and the very best of vibes. What a day.
Our final full day was one of pure indulgence. Morning yoga in the desert air was followed by long, lazy hours reading by the pool, confirming that surely one of life’s biggest luxuries is time – time with which we were happy to do absolutely nothing. A good job, as that evening took a delightful, unexpectedly energetic turn – Habitas was hosting a ‘thank you’ celebration for its staff, and we were warmly invited to join. Feeling more like a family wedding and setting a new bar for ‘office parties’, the night was one of pure joy: music, dancing, laughing till your sides ached. It was the perfect, unscripted ending to our stay.
As we bumped our way back towards Marrakech, still a little sandy and very reluctant to leave, one thing was clear: Caravan Agafay isn’t just a place to stay. It’s an experience you won’t forget. And really, isn’t that the kind of luxury that money can’t buy?
