Vagabond Hotel

From Marrakesh we drove halfway through the night to our next destination: Essaouira! This fortress-city on the coast of the Atlantic was no place I'd ever been to before, but at that point I was so tired I was only thinking longingly of bed.

We drove and drove, the highway cutting through barren desert and small neon-lit towns, the stars wheeling overhead. I sat with my head craned up for hours, slipping into and out of a doze, the smell of salt and sand growing stronger.

The hotel we chose was right on the coast and cheerily accepting check-ins despite the lateness of the hour. It was a beautiful place, with a winding white-washed staircase, a pool, and a cozy, semi-open dining and lounge area. The whole hotel is inclosed by a high wall, ensuring privacy. The staff betrayed no hint of exhaustion, helping us with our bags with smiles on their faces. 

We burst into our rooms, excited, (the best parts of travelling, for us kids, were always the flights and the hotels), and immediately began to wreak goodnatured havoc in our rush for the beds, the showers, unpacking...

​Eventually, we fell asleep.

 We woke to the sounds of me sneezing violently, and the plaintive crying of seabirds. My allergies were terrible for our entire stay in Essaouira, which made me pretty miserable, but I still look back on the trip fondly. 

We breakfasted in the dining room, wide-eyed at the prettiness of the place. We were alone but for an older French couple and the servers. After eating, we went exploring our quarters. We (or, to be more accurate, I) noticed details that had escaped us in the night. The walls, for example, were mostly curved, and our hotel room had a loft where my parents slept, and two balconies from which you could see over the neighbour's right to harbour. 

It was probably the nicest, prettiest hotel we had ever stayed in.