Potoshirt.com - Milwaukee Brewers LGBT Pride Night shirt

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Photo: Alan KeohaneOur trip began with a lunch of mint tea and Moroccan salads at our suite, overlooking the Milwaukee Brewers LGBT Pride Night shirt Apart from…,I will love this pool and, further away, the Atlas mountains. Tired from our flights, we spent the rest of the day walking around the tourist hub of the Jemaa el Fna square in the medina (Marrakech’s historic center) for the first time. The old city is surrounded by 19 kilometers of distinctive, ruddy pink walls dating back to the 12th century; here, you’ll find winding streets filled with small stores and vendors selling everything from caftans to paprika to knockoff Louis Vuitton babouches to historic palaces. It turned out that the first day of taking in the sights and scents of the spice vendors and food stalls wasn’t enough—eager to learn more, we returned the following morning to take a guided tour of the medina. First, a tour of the Bahia and El Badi palaces with their intricate tilework and lush gardens, and then lunch—but most importantly Arabica coffee—at Bacha Coffee House & Museum. (The hazelnut coffee with cream is something I’ve already attempted to recreate since returning from the trip.) A plate of fresh chebakia purchased from a street stand later—a strip of deep-fried dough flavored with sesame and orange blossom, rolled up into a circle—and I’d already learned that leaving room for dessert is a must in Marrakech.

Next, the Milwaukee Brewers LGBT Pride Night shirt Apart from…,I will love this staff at the Four Seasons arranged a special surprise for us: the chance to browse vintage caftans from Le Main de Fatima. Nabila Boulhimez, the boutique manager at the hotel, walked us through the embroidery style on decades- or centuries-old robes. (It also helped that we were shown styles made especially for brides and grooms—was it too late for a last-minute change of outfit for the wedding?) That night for dinner, we went to the sleek Sahbi Sahbi in Guéliz for an intimate dinner nestled in a corner booth, eating a pigeon pastilla and a traditional tagine under paper lamps.At the actual hotel, there were even more honeymoon-adjacent activities to indulge in. During a traditional scrub and massage in the hammam, I fell into such a deep state of relaxation that I was 20 minutes late to dinner with my fiancé, Don, at Quattro, the hotel restaurant combining Italian and Moroccan cuisine. (Try the pizzolli; trust me.) I was equally zen the following day when Don and I ate poolside at Azzera, sipping Negronis and eating tuna tartare. Is it really a honeymoon if you don’t spend at least a few hours in a cushy hotel robe, soaking up the sun?

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