The Royal Mansour

Calling a day spa “heaven” has become an industry cliché, but if ever that label deserved to be applied, it’s to this airy white latticed hideaway that makes you feel like you are floating among the clouds.

The check-in starts at the airport where you are ushered off the plane, directly into a private lounge while a minion processes your passport details before ushering you into a limousine directly to the hotel. No airless immigration halls to deal with here.

It is rumoured that the King employed every single skilled stonemason in the country for two years to build the hotel. The craftsmanship from the tiles to the carved walls and cedar scented woodwork is jaw dropping. Every detail makes you want to stare - the chic staff uniforms gave me major outfit envy.

Each riad has a private terrace with a plunge pool.

There is an underground system of tunnels leading to the individual guest riads accessed by staff ensuring privacy, quiet and constantly plumped pillows.

The general manager Mr. Jean-Claude Messant is a charming silver fox who engages with many witty “off-the-record” tales – it’s the way he tells ‘em.