ألف ليلة وليلة
Friday 17 — Sunday 19 July
Two themed nights pull the whole weekend between deep red and pure white — and one long program runs from Friday sundown to Sunday brunch.
Two nights, two worlds
Hover a side to let it breathe.
الليلة الأولى
Friday night · Oxblood, gold, skin and shadow
Our first night is pure Arabian Nights. Come as desert royalty: bare and open, draped in gold, skin catching the low light. Dark, opulent, a little untamed — and we each take one shared mark to carry the weekend home.
DressDress like desert royalty — open, sun-warmed linen and all the gold you own.
الليلة الثانية
Saturday night · Ivory, cream, silver moon
Our last night belongs to the sky. Everyone in white, the Marrakech moon spilling silver across the water. No lights but the moon — luminous, slow, the quiet echo of the night before.
DressAll white. Linen and moonlight — nothing else.
The weekend, hour by hour
Scroll through the three days — the sky drifts from night to day and back again.
Check-in · afternoon
أهلاً
The villa is ours from 2pm. Come early — claim a room, fall into the pool, and let the afternoon melt into a long aperitivo as the light turns to gold.
Friday dinner
العشاء
The private chef lays the first table of the weekend. Long, slow, generous — plates passed hand to hand as the sky goes deep and the wine keeps coming.
Night I
الليلة الأولى
A Thousand-and-One-Nights fantasy
Our first night is pure Arabian Nights. Come as desert royalty: bare and open, draped in gold, skin catching the low light. Dark, opulent, a little untamed — and we each take one shared mark to carry the weekend home.
DressDress like desert royalty — open, sun-warmed linen and all the gold you own.
Breakfast, every morning
الصباح
The chef wakes the villa with coffee and mint tea. Eggs by the pool for whoever surfaces first — no rush, no plan, just the sun climbing.
Saturday lunch
الغداء
Lunch melts into the afternoon — swim, nap, a cold glass in the shade. Save a little something for tonight.
Saturday evening
الشواء
Coals glowing, smoke curling up into a gold sky. We eat outside under the trees, glasses never empty, the second night already humming in the dark.
Night II
الليلة الثانية
The white night
Our last night belongs to the sky. Everyone in white, the Marrakech moon spilling silver across the water. No lights but the moon — luminous, slow, the quiet echo of the night before.
DressAll white. Linen and moonlight — nothing else.
Sunday
وداعاً
No rush. A long brunch in the sun, goodbyes that take too long, and the drive back — already planning the next one.