I don’t usually get gushy about hotels but I might make an exception for Dar Ahlam. As you enter the 200 year old restored kasbah through the thick, gnarly side door, reserved especially for guests, a feeling of serenity slowly takes hold.
It is partly the immediate relief from the heat outside, provided by the cool breeze that the thick walls and the open courtyards create (no AC is needed, except for the bedrooms). It is also the candle light in the darker corners of the kasbah and the natural light filtering through in the open spaces. It is the sound of the bulbuls chirping in the palm trees and the occasional distant call of the muezzin. But more than all of this, I think it is the soothing scent of the candles and oil burners that are dotted around the kasbah. The aroma of sandalwood, amber and argan combine to create a benign sense of calm at Dar Ahlam. Ethereal but nonetheless, palpable.
I love the non-prescriptive philosophy at Dar Ahlam, where schedules are torn up and things are allowed to move at the client’s pace.
“What time is lunch?” I ask Damien, the General Manager.
“Whenever you are hungry” he replies.
Dar Ahlam understands the joy of spontaneity and surprise, and it feels as if the whole team is fully invested in their distinct way of doing things.
In the afternoon, I am introduced to Adnane, a local mountain bike enthusiasts and guide. I spend the next two hours trying to keep up with him, biking around the outskirts of Skoura, darting in and out of the palm groves and stopping to admire dilapidated kasbahs. These old heritage buildings echo the historic significance of this oasis town as a stopover on the fabled salt route from the Atlas Mountains to Timbuktu.
“Wealthy traders were keen for travellers to stop at their houses, so word would spread about how rich and powerful they were” Adnane explains.
He points out the ubiquitous three stepped triangle that appears as an inscription or a statue on many of the kasbahs.
“This is to signify that a maximum of three nights’ hospitality would be provided” he tells me.
Before returning to the hotel, Adnane takes me to his local for a mint tea. He is a charming and modest as we talk about his biking business and his hopes for the future. Everybody here seems to know his name and he has a warm smile and easy conversation for anyone that greets him.
Back at Dar Ahlam after a much needed shower, I am ready for dinner. Kamal escorts me along a path that is dotted with candles to my table for one, in a private part of the olive grove. I try not to let the fact that I would love my wife to be with me stop me from enjoying the ambience and the food. The large gin and tonic I had before dinner helps me embrace my single status for the night. My starter of cold carrot soup is served with a small wooden ladle which I use clumsily, noisily slurping each mouthful of the delicious, fresh soup with a conspicuous lack of shame. Main course is a tagine of lamb leg, pear and almonds which Kamal suggests I eat with my hands and the freshly baked bread he has bought to the table. After the second handful of exquisitely flavoured lamb meat which melts in the mouth, I begin to talk to my food lovingly, telling the lamb and the sweet unctuous sauce just how happy it is making me feel. With hands coated in food and in between whispering lovingly to my tagine, Damien appears to see how I am doing. I ask if I can share a table with another guest tomorrow night. He suggests I stay on my own.
