Yes, this is my room.
At this scale you can't see the intricate detail of the carving around and above the doorway to my bedroom, or the wrought ironwork of the windows, all of which open out into this quiet courtyard/ sitting room. Mark and Sandhya's room is opposite on the other side of the courtyard. To the left is the library, a red velvet upholstered reading room and music room, complete with inlaid chess table and pieces ready for a game. If, suddenly, you couldn't resist the urge to find an aficionado partner to give you a game before retiring for the night, presumably.
On the wall to the right (but picture left) is a wonderfully carved arched decoration with minute forms echoing the arches in the pillars outside on the terrace.
Almost without exception, everything here is perfectly symmetrical, but these tiny forms slightly disobey the rule, giving the impression of ripples, like a waterfall in white stone.
Inside the room. By the time we were shown to our rooms on the first night - and of course, the taxi driver had still been waiting for us at Fez airport. As so too the men; the guide and the wheelchair man, both standing patiently in the dark cold square - it was around 2.30 a.m. After examining the room and the turquoise tiled sunken bath and shower, I turned the key in the door and flung myself on the silky Egyptian cotton bed sheets and closed my eyes. Fearing that I'd be asleep before managing to undress if I wasn't careful, I opened them again. I don't think I'd noticed it was a four-poster bed until I peered up through it to the ceiling high above. Gasp! A fantastic, intricately carved and painted cedar wood ceiling.
Corner of room. Stained glass window looking onto courtyard and door to bathroom, view also from flat on back, looking up through bed-post.
Night, night. I'm going to give that pool a go in the morning.