The Small Encounters in the Medina That Make Me Smile - La ferme medina Marrakech
- Peter
- Nov 24
- 3 min read
Any excuse is a good excuse to showcase my koi pyjama.
Sometimes, it’s the smallest encounters in the medina that make me stop and smile. Not long ago, I set out with the innocent idea of buying a bike — something sporty, something that the mind insis
ts will bring balance, even if the bike will probably end up standing alone in a garage most of the year. But Marrakesh has its own way of redirecting you, of turning a simple errand into something much richer.
I passed by Pikala Bikes, but what I found around the corner had nothing to do with bicycles. A tiny restaurant, softly connected to a riad of five rooms, drew me in with that quiet charm only the medina knows how to hide. The rooms were a world of their own. Japanese simplicity blended effortlessly with small French antique touches, and koi paintings added this gentle feeling of floating somewhere else.
Even the bathrooms surprised me — large, calm, circular wet cells that made you want to stay a little longer just to enjoy the moment. And the faint winter humidity of the medina, normally something people complain about, carried that day the tenderness of a personal perfume.
The scents drifting out of the kitchen convinced me to keep exploring. I slipped into a more private area and found myself in a garden that felt like an unexpected discovery — the greenest small space I had seen in a long time. It was divided in a way I can only describe as natural choreography: wooden structures intertwined with lush plants, quiet corners inviting you to pause, and the soft murmur of a water feature that immediately made the world feel slower. Sitting there, I had that beautiful sensation of traveling while traveling — as if the medina had opened a door to another dimension just for the fun of it.
That’s the thing about the medina. Sometimes it feels like living on steroids — overwhelming, noisy, chaotic — but at the right moment, it gives you exactly what you didn’t know you needed. A breath. A pause. A reminder that even in the whirlwind, peace can sit right behind an unmarked door.
La Ferme Medina, the restaurant anchored to this riad, captures that balance perfectly. It’s built with the soul of an old Marrakesh riad, yet feels like a new chapter. The Mediterranean dishes are generous and full of light, the desserts quietly proud of themselves, and the whole atmosphere makes you forget the rush outside. Breakfast stretches lazily from eight to eleven, lunch follows with the calm authority of something that doesn’t need to impress because it already knows it will.
That day, I realized once again that the medina works like this: outside, spices, calls, footsteps, life at full speed; inside, a hidden garden that slows your heartbeat. And somehow, both belong together. I didn’t just find a bike — in truth, I don’t even remember if I chose one — but I found a story. A corner of Marrakesh that felt like a whispered secret, a gentle reminder that the soul travels even when the body doesn’t move far.
Because in the end, I didn’t just have a perfect dinner. I managed to give myself the feeling of traveling abroad for a night, without leaving the city. And honestly, any excuse is a good excuse to showcase my koi pyjama. Life is too short not to enjoy the little absurdities that make us smile.
Maybe that’s why I love these encounters so much. They’re personal, unexpected, and often slightly ridiculous — the kind of memories that stay with you for no logical reason. The medina overwhelms you, shakes you, rushes you, but just when you think it might be too much, it hands you a moment of peace wrapped in a story, a scent, a garden, or a tiny joke only you understand.
And perhaps that’s the real beauty of Marrakesh: the best journeys often happen on the days when you were only looking for a bike.
Time for a T.
Peter
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