Entering the intricate golden doors of La Sultana the staff behind the counter greets me with a warm welcome. Before I know it I’m whisked away down the grand hall with hanging lanterns past the dining room with their magnificent statues and fresh flowers.
Once in the spa the scent of fresh fragrances flirts with you, giving you a taste of what’s to come.
I’m given a robe and slippers as well as disposable underwear in a tray. She tells me to change and put my things in the tray and she puts it in my private locker.
Then I meet my hammam guide and am taken to the first room where she tells me to sit on the bench. The whole room is a marble beauty with golden touches. This is an immersion in heat and I am instantly sweating from every pore on my body while she rubs me down with the silky black soap that wafts eucalyptus and argan oil into the the thick steam.
Slowly the painted lines on the domed ceiling disappear from sight as the room soars ten degrees more and steam fills the room, billowing in to clean me from the inside out.
She leaves me to recline for a few moments. I follow my breath and am keenly aware of the feeling I’m being inflated and exhaling out any stress I’ve accumulated in the dusty streets of Marrakech.
The faucet lets out a slow drip; each drop sinking me deeper into a catatonic state where the most I could do was let my flesh melt away from the bone.
She comes back in, wraps me in a towel and takes me to the next room where I lay face down on the marble. She applies the exfoliating glove to her hand and begins to scrub me down, starting with my legs and ending with my scalp.
Her touch is firm yet gentle and I never want this part to end. With each pass she makes over my skin I can feel the old layers being sloughed off, and fresh, new, tender skin coming out to greet the steam.
She washes my hair and I’ve never felt more innocent. Next she massages my face in slow circular motions before pouring steaming hot water over me from silver buckets etched in gold. I believe I have died and been reincarnated as a princess.
The final step: she rubs me with a green gel that smells of aloe and essential oils. She says it’s to protect and hydrate the skin after the scrub, or gommage.
Now she leads me to an Adirondack chair where I lay by the dipping pool and jacuzzi. She wraps a warm towel around my wet hair, covers my eyes and tells me to relax – as if I could do anything but.
I don’t need to see to soak in the ambiance of the marble room with its columns, fountains, and soothing music piped in at just the right volume to lull me into a tranquil trance.
Moments later she comes back and presses a cold cloth to my eyes, chin, cheeks, and neck. The contrast to the heat of my core is striking, and I feel my skin tighten in response. Jackpot. Silent as a feather she disappears again and I gently lose the battle of staying alert.
Next I was brought down the white winding staircase. The plush padding of each step was not lost on me; it only added to the sensation of walking on a cloud and living in a dream.
After 30 minutes I flip over and stare at the lace pattern made on the amber wall while she begins on my calves. She finishes with a face and ear massage that leaves me tingling from head to toe. She offers me a few more minutes to relax and I slip deeper into the realm of bliss.
Once again she covers my eyes and tells me to relax. The smell of mint tea wakes me, and I slowly enter reality sip by sip. Next time I’m going to do myself a favor and book my entire Marrakech stay at La Sultana.
I was a guest of La Sultana Spa for the purposes of this review but am 100% serious when I say it was one of the most relaxing experiences of my life which still brings me peace just thinking about it.