1–7 February 2027 · Seven Nights
Marrakesh from a riad of your own, the High Atlas and its Amazigh villages, the gardens and the makers — then the Atlantic and Casablanca. Adventure and luxury, in equal measure, with Jane on the ground.
We keep it to six guests, total. Five nights are yours in a restored riad in the heart of the Marrakesh medina — tilework and lantern light, a courtyard, a rooftop over the old city — hosted by Jane, who has made Morocco her own and holds every thread of it: the drivers, the tables, the makers, the doors that don't open for everyone.
And we do the real things. The medina and its souks. A day up into the High Atlas to the Amazigh villages of the Ourika Valley, snow on the peaks above you. The gardens Yves Saint Laurent saved, the makers Jane keeps to herself, and an evening at the stove with a Marrakesh cook — the tanjia you'll sit down to, the city's own slow-cooked dish, is one you made. Then a last, slow day in the riad: massage, henna if you like it, and — because it is Friday — couscous at midday, the way Morocco eats at home, with a last supper on the rooftop divans as the square lights up below. The early train west closes the week on the Atlantic. Mountains and medina, gardens and rest — the Red City from every side.
Early February is Morocco at its clearest — mild and sunny, the almond blossom starting, the medina in full daytime swing, and the whole week falling before Ramadan. Then west to the Atlantic: two nights in Casablanca and the vast Hassan II Mosque rising straight out of the sea, before you fly home.
The riad is your basecamp — Jane's own home, not a hotel lobby — where each day begins with coffee on the roof and ends with everyone back around one table. This is how Pas Perdu travels: with friends, in trusted spaces, with trusted people. Adventure and luxury, for the curious. Let Jane and the road show you.
When Granada fell in 1492 and Spain pressed out its Muslims over the century that followed, the Moriscos crossed the Strait and settled in Tétouan, in Fez, and beyond — carrying the music, the trades and the architecture with them. That inheritance is still audible here.
Our Andalucía week ends in Granada the day before this one begins in Marrakesh, and the crossing between them is made by sea rather than by air — the Strait, with both continents in view.
If you would like to walk the thread from the shore it left to the shore it reached, ask us about the crossing.
Marrakesh at the heart of it — the medina, the mountains, the gardens — then the road to the Atlantic. Every day is real. Click any day to open it.
Into Marrakesh and through the medina to the riad — a courtyard of tile and citrus, your own room off it, mint tea on the roof as the light goes. Jane gathers you for a first dinner in the courtyard, and the old city hums on the other side of the wall. Arrival day stays gentle.
The old city on foot with Jane's people — Jemaa el-Fnaa, the souks by trade (dyers, coppersmiths, leather), the Koutoubia, the Bahia Palace and the Ben Youssef madrasa, with a long Moroccan lunch along the way. In the late afternoon, the cooking class: tanjia — Marrakesh's own dish, slow-cooked in an urn — and bread carried to the communal oven, then dinner together on what you've made. After dark, the square again: Jemaa el-Fnaa becomes another city at night.
The Jardin Majorelle and the small, dense Amazigh museum inside it, the quieter Secret Garden, and the workshops Jane keeps to herself — a weaver, a ceramicist, a spice merchant who actually knows his trade. For the curious, the Water Museum: the story of the khettara channels that let a red city bloom on a dry plain. This evening, the hammam — the same rite that closes the Andalucía week, at its Moroccan source — then henna on the terrace afterward, so the design sets while you sleep.
Up into the High Atlas — the switchback roads, the snow on the peaks, the Ourika Valley threading between the villages of the Amazigh, the “free people” who named these mountains long before anyone called them Berber. A guided walk to a waterfall, lunch beside the mountain stream, tea poured from a height, the roadside souks — and the long views back down. The mountains half of Morocco.
Your last day in the Red City, and a gentle one by design — the riad keeps it for you. Because it is Friday: couscous at midday, the dish Morocco cooks for family, at home, on this day. Then a slow afternoon — henna or a massage in your own room, games on the terrace, a last souvenir found in a medina you now half-know. Toward evening, back to Jemaa el-Fnaa for sunset, to watch the city come alive one last time — then home to a final supper together up on the roof, on the divans, with the square still glowing below. The early train west leaves in the morning.
West to the Atlantic — an early drop at the gare and the train across the plains, first class, about two hours forty, to Casablanca: Morocco's great working port and its Art Deco heart. The corniche, the sea air after the mountains, and a drink where Casablanca is winked at — Rick's, purpose-built and better than it has any right to be. A different Morocco to close on.
The Hassan II Mosque — one of the largest on earth, its minaret over the Atlantic, and one of the very few you may enter as a visitor: a timed tour of a breathtaking interior, the ocean beneath the glass floor. The Habous quarter, the old medina, and a final grand dinner together before you scatter home.
Home from Casablanca (CMN), Morocco's main hub, with the easiest long-haul connections back to the US and Europe. You leave as Ramadan begins — a gracious moment to go — carrying the medina, the mountains and the sea with you.
Jane has made Morocco her home and her craft — the riad, the drivers, the tables, the makers, the doors that open for a friend and no one else. She hosts on the ground; we bring you to her. Between us, the whole of Marrakesh.
A restored courtyard house in the heart of the old city — tilework, lantern light, a room of your own and a rooftop over Marrakesh. Where every day begins with coffee in the sun and ends with everyone back around one table.
Friday couscous at midday, henna or a massage in your own room, one last wander in the medina — then sunset on Jemaa el-Fnaa as the city comes alive, and a final supper on the rooftop divans before the early train west.
Six seats, in any mix of solos and couples — every solo traveller has a room of their own off the riad courtyard, and pairs share beautifully. Apply below and we'll be in touch personally with the details, pricing included. A conversation, never a checkout.
Your Pas Perdu concierge — the character of Marrakesh, the flow of the days, the riad, the gardens, the mosque. Ask him anything about the week. English, français, español — and a little Darija and Tamazight, the tongue of the free people.
A curated, six-guest week — by application, not checkout, so we can hold it small and hold it well. Tell us who you are and we'll be in touch.
One application for all our journeys — it takes three minutes, and we read every one personally.