24 Hours at Ryad Dyor

The first call to prayer arrives from the mosque of Sidi Ben Slimane. It is not an intrusion, it is an invitation. The Nour Suite stays quiet behind its centuries-old walls, its sand-coloured bathroom holding an enormous bathtub that has yet to be used today.

Breakfast is served on the rooftop: honey and homemade jams, warm Moroccan breads, coffee, fresh juice. Below, the rooftops of the medina; in the distance, the snow-capped Atlas. Mint tea is poured from height, exactly enough to raise the foam, alongside msemen and argan honey.

The team offers practical advice before you go, including how to bargain. The dyers' souk, indigo, saffron, henna. The spice souk, with its mounds of ras el hanout. A stop for babouches. You return before the midday heat sets in, to a cedar door you already recognise.

The plunge pool is scattered with rose petals, candles waiting for the evening already in place. A sun lounger sits in the shade of the palm tree. Lunch is light, pastilla with chicken and almonds, orange blossom water on the side. A cat crosses the wall without hurrying.

In the basement, warmed marble. The kessa glove, black beldi soap with argan oil, and a massage that leaves you unhurried for the rest of the afternoon.

A glass of wine on the rooftop, the muezzin's call rising over the old city, and the Atlas turning gold as the sun drops behind it. A non-alcoholic rose and mint cocktail for those who prefer it.

The chef asked that morning what you wanted tonight. Lamb tagine with prunes and almonds, cooked for four hours; a carrot salad with cumin and orange; monkfish tagine on the rooftop. Mint tea to close.

Ryad Dyor. Marrakech Medina. Ten suites. Your next stay begins here.