Romola on Morocco.

Travel Or rather Romola Garai in Morocco writing a travel piece for The Guardian. As ever, she's never boring as she navigates a luxury hotel with a "no outside world" policy in Marrakech with her diarrhoea inhibited family in tow:
"I finished off the day with one of the best facials I've ever had, and was floating back to my room, smelling like a rose garden hosed down with baby oil, when I was horrified to see a group of very stressed (though very cool) looking people all hunched miserably over their BlackBerrys like an Apple production line. El Fenn has no phones or televisions in its rooms, and although it does have Wi-Fi, it requests, very gently, that you don't spend your whole time on it. This "escape from the outside world" policy is especially welcome when you haven't worked in months, and the sight of people furiously emailing made me feel rather depressed. However, after a great deal of dedicated eavesdropping by violently shushing anyone who tried to speak to me, I discovered that the trendy/unhappy people were due to be on a fashion shoot with Mos Def that day, but he had hurt his hand and failed to catch his flight. These poor people's bad luck was my comedy gold, as I spent a very merry evening repeating the phrase, "So, what you're saying is… Mos def-initely won't be coming?"

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