Escape to Paradise: Unforgettable Luxury at Hotel EZZAHIA, Marrakech
Marrakech Magic or Mirage? A Deep Dive into Hotel EZZAHIA (Spoiler: It's Complicated!)
Okay, let's be real. You're scrolling, you're dreaming of Marrakech, you're considering the Hotel EZZAHIA. I get it. The photos are stunning. The promises are enticing. I'm here to give you the unfiltered truth, the messy, beautiful, sometimes frustrating reality of this supposed paradise. Buckle up, because it's going to be a wild ride.
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First things first: Accessibility. This is where things get… interesting. The website claims accessibility. Let's just say, "claims" is the operative word. While they do have an elevator (praise the heavens!), navigating the sprawling grounds with a wheelchair felt like a treasure hunt. Ramps were… present, but angles were sometimes questionable. And the uneven cobblestone paths? Let's just say my friend with mobility issues earned some serious glutes from the experience. They try, bless their hearts, but I'd recommend calling ahead and asking very specific questions about access to specific amenities. Don't just trust the brochure. Trust your gut.
On-site restaurants and lounges? Oh, honey. They're there, they're pretty, and the food… well, we'll get to the food.
Internet Access – The Wi-Fi Saga: "Free Wi-Fi in all rooms!" they trumpet. And technically, they're not lying. You can connect. The problem? It's like trying to download a cat video on dial-up. Sporadic, frustratingly slow, and frequently dropping out. Forget about streaming anything. I ended up tethering to my phone for any semblance of reliable internet access. Bring a book. Lots of books. Or better yet, embrace the digital detox and just be in Marrakech. (Yes, I did miss my Instagram. Sue me.)
Dining, Drinking, and Snacking – A Culinary Rollercoaster. Okay, prepare yourself. The food is… inconsistent. The breakfast buffet was a mixed bag. The Asian breakfast options… let’s just say they’re an interpretation of Asian cuisine. The international cuisine restaurant tried, bless its heart. One night, the tagine was divine, the next, it was… meh. The poolside bar was a lifesaver for refreshing drinks and light snacks. The room service was thankfully available 24/7. (Needed it after that… ahem… questionable dinner.) The vegetarian restaurant offered some welcome respite for my veggie friend. The bar was a pleasant spot for pre-dinner drinks and even had a happy hour deal!
Here's a random thing: I got really obsessed with the soup. Actually, it wasn't just a soup, it was like, the soup. One night, I had this divine lentil and vegetable soup in the restaurant. It was warm, subtly spiced, and everything I wanted after a day of haggling in the souk. I practically dreamed of it. The next night? Different soup. Completely. Disappointment. It wasn’t bad, it just… wasn’t the soup. My emotional investment in that soup was disproportionate to its importance, but it’s a microcosm of the entire EZZAHIA experience. Sometimes you get magic, sometimes you get… something else.
The Spa – Where I Almost Found Nirvana (and Then Lost It). Okay, this is the almost redeeming feature. The spa is gorgeous. Seriously, the pool with a view? Breathtaking. The sauna, the steamroom, the massage… all fantastic. The body scrub was an absolute delight (felt like a million tiny angels were exfoliating my sins away). I was this close to achieving pure zen. And then… the music. Oh, the music. After the first glorious hour, they switched from the soothing, ambient sounds to a loop of bad elevator music. My bliss evaporated. I spent the last 30 minutes contemplating whether it was more offensive to leave early or stay and suffer. I stayed. I suffered. But still, those first few moments were glorious.
Things to Do and Ways to Relax (The "Good" Stuff). Aside from the spa, the swimming pool [outdoor] was fantastic and a true oasis from the desert heat. The fitness center was well-equipped, if you're into that sort of thing. The terrace was a lovely place for a quiet drink and reflection. You could also just stroll around the shrine, if that’s your thing. Honestly, Marrakech is just that magical: you can just wander around and enjoy yourself.
Cleanliness and Safety – The "Trying Really Hard" Department. This is where EZZAHIA really throws itself into the effort. They're trying. Daily disinfection in common areas, individually-wrapped food options, room sanitization between stays… they've obviously put a lot of effort into keeping things safe. The staff is trained in safety protocols, and there are hand sanitizers everywhere. You feel like they're taking it seriously.
Services and Conveniences – The Mixed Bag of Perks. The concierge was incredibly helpful in arranging excursions and providing recommendations. The daily housekeeping was efficient, and the luggage storage was welcome. The currency exchange was convenient, but maybe shop around for better rates. The elevator was a lifesaver, but the Wi-Fi for special events was… let’s just say, not reliable.
For the Kids – Family/Child Friendly. While there is a babysitting service and kids facilities, I didn’t see many kids. Honestly, the whole place felt a little too serene for screaming toddlers.
Available in All Rooms – The Essentials. Your room will have air conditioning (thank god!), a coffee/tea maker (necessary!), a safe box, and free Wi-Fi (that you'll curse at). The bed was comfy, and I loved the blackout curtains. The hair dryer worked. You know, the standard hotel stuff.
Getting Around – The Transportation Tango. The airport transfer was smooth and efficient. The taxi service was readily available. They have car park [free of charge].
My Verdict?
Hotel EZZAHIA is a beautiful, sometimes frustrating, often confusing, ultimately memorable experience. It's not perfect. Far from it. The internet is dodgy, the food is hit-or-miss, and the accessibility could be better. But the staff tries hard, the spa is a slice of heaven, and the location is perfect for exploring Marrakech. My Advice: Go in with realistic expectations, embrace the imperfections, pack a book, and be prepared to be charmed (eventually). And for the love of all that is holy, find out if they are serving the soup before you go.
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Alright, buckle up, buttercups, because you're about to embark on a vicarious journey to Hotel Ezzahia in Marrakech with yours truly – and trust me, it ain't gonna be all perfectly curated Instagram squares. This is real travel, warts and all.
(Day 1: Arriving in Paradise (Maybe?))
- 7:00 AM (London, Heathrow - The Nightmare Begins): Ugh. The alarm. The pre-flight panic. Did I pack enough socks? Did I forget to pack socks? And the queues, oh the queues. Honestly, Heathrow on a Monday morning feels like Dante's Inferno, but with more screaming toddlers.
- 11:00 AM (In the Air - Turbulence Tango): Finally, airborne! Cue the existential dread of airline food and the delightful whump-whump-whump of turbulence. Had a moment where I'm pretty sure my stomach left me. But hey, the view from 30,000 feet is kinda breathtaking. Briefly considered writing a novel about a rogue cloud, before promptly falling asleep drooling on my neighbour's shoulder.
- 3:00 PM (Marrakech Menara Airport - The Hustle is Real): Okay, Marrakech. Smells like… well, a lot. Spices, exhaust fumes, something indefinably, wonderfully… Moroccan. The airport is a chaotic ballet of luggage carts and shouting taxi drivers. Found a guy offering me camel rides before I even left the arrivals hall. Am I hallucinating from lack of sleep? Maybe. He did have excellent teeth, though.
- 4:00 PM (Hotel Ezzahia - Check-In Chaos and A Tiny Triumph): Finally, sweet, sweet sanctuary! Hotel Ezzahia. It's… nice. The lobby smells of mint tea and something vaguely medicinal, but in a good way? The check-in process was a glorious mess of smiling faces and broken English. Got assigned a room with a view of… a wall. Damn it. After some persistent (and slightly embarrassing) haggling, I'm now in a room overlooking the pool. Victory! It smells of bleach, but I think I can live with it.
- 6:00 PM (The Pool - A Moment of Bliss… Until the Mosquitos): The pool is stunning. Turquoise water, palm trees swaying… I feel like I've stepped onto a postcard. Dipped a toe in. The water is… icy. Took a deep breath, did a very glamorous swan dive, then I got out, because it was freezing. And then, the mosquitoes! Oh, the mozzies! They descended like tiny vampires, intent on draining me of my precious bodily fluids.
- 7:30 PM (Dinner – Tagine Temptation… and Regret): Dinner at the hotel restaurant. Ordered a chicken tagine. It looked divine. It tasted… okay. Honestly, maybe the jet lag is messing with my taste buds. Or maybe I just wasn't blown away. I should have been. A local couple were staring at us, probably judging our terrible (lack of) Arabic.
- 9:00 PM (Bed - Sleep or Chaos?): Bedtime! Or, at least, attempting to sleep. The air conditioning is humming like a particularly grumpy bumblebee. And there's a distant call to prayer. It's beautiful, powerful, yet it’s completely wrecking my sleep schedule AND reminding me that I need to be more spiritual (later).
(Day 2: Souks, Scams, and a Seriously Good Smoothie)
- 8:00 AM (Breakfast - The Struggle is Real): Breakfast buffet! Ah, the joy (and potential peril) of a hotel buffet. The croissants are a disaster. The omelets are… questionable. The coffee is stronger than a camel’s back. Managed to snag a delicious plate of fresh fruit. Small victories, people!
- 9:30 AM (Jemaa el-Fna - Sensory Overload): The main square. Utter, glorious, chaotic, overwhelming sensory overload. Snake charmers (probably not as charming as they think), storytellers, street food stalls belching smoke and deliciousness. Got totally ripped off buying spices. Lesson learned: haggle like your life depends on it.
- 11:00 AM (Souk Shopping – Lost and Loving It): The souks. A labyrinth of narrow alleyways, crammed with everything imaginable. Carpets, lanterns, spices, leather goods, pottery… my credit card is weeping. Found a beautiful scarf, then spent half an hour arguing with the shopkeeper over the price. He probably won, but I'm calling it a win.
- 1:00 PM (A Juice Break (Thank God!)): Found a small stall serving fresh juice. Ordered an orange and carrot smoothie. It was the best thing I’ve tasted in weeks. Seriously, the best. I might have had two.
- 2:00 PM (More Souk Shenanigans): Wandered around some more, almost got lost about 5 times. Realized I left a bag of purchases at one of the carpet shops. Ran back, managed to stammer half apology, half demand. Got it back. The shopkeeper was laughing. I suspect I provided good entertainment.
- 4:00 PM (Hotel Pool Round Two - Bliss… Briefly Again): Back to the pool. Soothed my haggling-induced stress. Sunbathing. The air smells incredible. Forgot the sunscreen. Oops.
- 6:00 PM (Dinner – Finally, Some Good Food!): Found a restaurant in the medina – a hidden gem! The food was incredible. Couscous, tagine with lamb. The best meal I’ve had in Marrakech. I actually understand the hype now. *(8:00 PM) Dinner and a show. It was touristy and I loved it.
(Day 3: Hammam, Hiccups, and Saying Goodbye (Sob!))
- 9:00 AM (Hammam – A Journey to Cleanliness and Inner Peace (Hopefully)): I'm a clean person. But a traditional Hammam? This is next level. The scrub was intense. I felt like I was being exfoliated by a small, enthusiastic sandpaper. Blissful pain. Emerging feeling cleaner than I ever have, and a little bit… squished?
- 11:00 AM (Hotel Relaxation and Regret): Spent the morning doing nothing. Just chilling by the pool. Thinking about how quickly this trip has gone by. Contemplated moving to Morocco and opening up a small business in the souks.
- 1:00 PM (Lunch - Light Meal and Reflecting): Snack, lunch by the pool and some light reading. Reflecting on how amazing this trip has been
(Day 4: Departure – Au Revoir, Marrakech!)
- 9:00 AM (Packing – The Art of the Cram): Packing. Always the hardest task. How to squeeze a week's worth of adventures, and souvenirs into a suitcase? Left some things I bought at the souk - and it’s okay, I now have a reason to come back.
- 10:00 AM (Farewell Breakfast and Reflections): My last morning. One last breakfast at the hotel. The croissants are still awful. The coffee is still potent. A small pang of sadness for leaving this vibrant place.
- 12:00 PM (Heading to the Airport - The Rollercoaster Continues): One last taxi ride. More chaos. More smiles. This time I'm even more relaxed.
- 7:00 PM (Home – My Bed and My Netflix): I’m back. Back in England and my own bed. It seems a lifetime ago that I was on a plane, and yet a second. It was the best trip I’ve had in a long time and I can't wait to go again.
Hotel Ezzahia, Final Thoughts:
Hotel Ezzahia was a good base. I wouldn’t rave about all the service, but it’s clean, well-located, with a gorgeous pool, and the staff always had a smile for me, even after my terrible attempt at Arabic. It's not perfect, but then, neither am I. And that's what made the whole experience utterly unforgettable. It was a fantastic adventure. And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way. Marrakech, you were a wild ride. Until next time!
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Alright, spill the beans! Is Hotel EZZAHIA *actually* paradise?
Paradise, huh? Look, let's be real. It's *close*. Like, really, *really* close. The brochure photos? Yeah, they're pretty. But the reality? It's… well, it's complicated. Picture this: You, me, a rooftop terrace that would literally make Cleopatra jealous. Sunsets so orange they practically set your soul on fire. THAT part? Heaven. The consistent, borderline-aggressive sales pitches for the 'upgrade to the diamond package' during a massage? Less heavenly. Let's just say my inner peace and credit card limit had a bit of a… disagreement.
What's the vibe? Is it all stuffy luxury or can you actually relax?
The vibe? A fascinating blend of 'ooh, designer everything' and 'wait, is that a stray camel?' Seriously, you've got ridiculously polished marble everywhere, but then you hear the call to prayer echoing from the minaret, and suddenly you're grounded. The staff were genuinely lovely, in a highly-trained-to-be-lovely kind of way. I’m still not sure if the constant smiles were from genuine joy or because they were expecting a hefty tip (probably both!). But yeah, you *can* relax. Eventually. Just, you know, after you've wrestled with the Wi-Fi password and memorized the location of the emergency exits (because, hello, claustrophobia in a foreign country!), and given the minibar a good once-over to make sure the price point of the snacks didn’t come with an unexpected organ harvesting angle.
Okay, the rooms. Are they Instagram-worthy or a dusty letdown?
The rooms? Oh, the rooms. Prepare to have your jaw hit the floor. My room was HUGE. Like, genuinely could've hosted a small wedding. The bed? Cloud-like. The bathroom? Marble and mirrors as far as the eye could see. But… (and there's ALWAYS a but, isn't there?)… I noticed a faint smell of… well, it wasn't exactly "roses and sunshine." I'm pretty sure it was a lingering whiff of the previous guest's frankly impressive (and potentially excessive) use of the in-room hookah. It's a small price to pay. The balcony with the view? Utterly worth it. Plus, housekeeping was on point! My sunglasses went missing from the nightstand and I was sure it was gone for good. But a day later, I found a little note, and the glasses, hidden in a fresh stack of towels. I'm still not sure how to feel about that, it's a little intrusive, but also, it's service. So, yeah, mostly Instagram-worthy. Just maybe bring your own air freshener.
Let’s talk food. Was it a culinary masterpiece or just fancy sandwiches?
The food… this is where things get dicey, my friend. The breakfast buffet was a *beast*. Seriously, everything you could possibly imagine: fresh fruit, pastries galore, eggs cooked a million different ways, the works. It was spectacular, a veritable feast for the eyes. But after a few days? I started to crave… *simplicity*. Like, could I please just have a plain croissant without 30 different fruit syrups drizzled on top? The poolside lunch menu was… okay. Decent burgers, a passable salad. Nothing life-changing. The fine dining restaurant? Gorgeous setting, beautifully presented dishes. But. And I swear this is the truth. The lamb tagine was… *too* fancy. Like, they'd deconstructed it! I just wanted a proper, comforting, slow-cooked tagine, like my grandma used to make. The chef's version? It was good, sure, but I secretly missed the simple, home-cooked authenticity. I think this where I admit I went to McDonalds one afternoon. Yes, in Morocco. I'm a flawed human being.
And the spa? Was it a relaxing experience or just an expensive massage with a lot of rose petals?
The spa... okay. The spa *was* pretty amazing. The hammam was a religious experience (scrub me raw, please!). I never felt cleaner in my life! The massage? Ah, the massage. It started out great, very relaxing, and I began to drift off. Then, this very kind gentleman started whispering about 'the Diamond Package upgrade" for what felt like every ten minutes. I tried to politely decline, but I think I may have accidentally gotten slightly aggressive by the end of it. I was like, "Listen! I came here to relax, and if you ask me again, I'm gonna start barking, I need a break from the relentless offers! It's driving me insane!". He very quickly understood the message! The rose petals *were* lovely, though. And the pool afterwards? Pure bliss. But the experience was slightly tainted, which is a massive shame. It's not cheap, but the quality of the massage *was* good.
Do you recommend Hotel EZZAHIA? And what's one thing people *really* need to know?
Recommend? Yes, with caveats. It's luxurious, it's mostly beautiful, and the sunrises are worth the price of admission alone. Just go in with your eyes open. Be prepared for a little bit of… *overzealous* service. Learn to say a firm "no" to the relentless add-ons (unless you REALLY want them, of course!). And most importantly? Pack your sense of humor. Because things *will* go wrong. You *will* get lost in the medina (trust me, I know). You *will* overspend in the souks. All of that? It's part of the adventure. But the most important thing? Bring a good book. Because when all the chaos gets to be too much, you'll need a quiet place to hide and recharge. You know, before you head back out to battle the world again.
What's the deal with the staff? Are they helpful or do they just want your money?
Okay, this is a tricky one. The staff? They work *hard*. They're incredibly polite, always smiling, opening doors, offering cold towels, etc. The level of service is genuinely impressive. But...and here's where it gets complicated...you can *feel* the pressure to tip. The smiles sometimes feel a little… too perfect. The offers of service? Maybe a little too frequent. I'm not saying they don't genuinely want to help, but it's a professional politeness, the sort that's been meticulously cultivated. You can almost see the spreadsheets in their heads, calculating the potential gratuities. It's a double-edged sword. You appreciate the attentiveness, but you also feel like you're constantly being judged on your potential to reward it. And honestly, after a week, that can get a little exhausting. By the time I left, my hand was twitching every time someone offered toChicstayst
