Hotel Palais Ronsard Relais & Chateaux

We stayed at this stunning hotel for two amazing nights. We were in the Villa with our own pool which was a perfect chill out. We only left the room to be fed. The food is absolutely delicous....do try the 30 hour cooked lamb! Khalil is an asset to the hotel. His welcoming, warm smile I will miss. If you need to have a little reset then this is the hotel for you!

The property and staff were fine. Location around 25mins from Marrakech, this hotel is certainly a place to relax. However, the cost of any drink, be it water, wine or beer is astronomical. Hence, very few, if any people had a drink poolside. 140 mad €13.30 for a local beer is ridiculous. The staff working at the bar were standing doing nothing most of the time.

We had the great joy of celebrating a special anniversary at Palais Ronsard from January 16–18, 2025 — and we can truly say we have never encountered a more beautiful or fairytale-like place! The hotel is pure magic — elegant, serene, and absolutely unforgettable. A very special thank you to Chaima Oumama, whose attention to detail and genuine care for every single guest need made us feel truly seen and valued. Even when a misunderstanding occurred on our part, the hotel staff handled the situation with the utmost professionalism, empathy, and a client-first attitude that left a deep impression on us. Thank you, dear Palais Ronsard team, for your warm, friendly welcome and for creating memories that will stay with us forever. You made our celebration truly extraordinary!

A super hotel with very attentive personnel, whether it be by the pool, the restaurant, the reception or the Spa. I had a full facial treatment that lasted an hour with Souad and came out feeling fantastic. She was very professional. A very relaxing few days in between work missions. Well worth a visit whilst you are in Marrakech.

Years ago, a dear friend and I we were dining at the Palais Ronsard hotel on the outskirts of Marrakech. At the time, the hotel was brand new and only a handful of other guests were arranged with breathing room around the patio overlooking wide fountain pools adorned with fairly lights. While we were chain smoking beneath the slow fans, as one is so tempted to do in Morocco, a man approached our waiter with kind French words of good night and a palm pressed with a tip. He was a ruggedly handsome middle-aged American with strong hands and eyes the color of summer sky. The staff told us later that he was doing a solo motorcycle trip across the Sahara and back, spending wealth accumulated from some vaguely nefarious enterprise. The sun was setting and he was resplendent, gilded and tired and dusty. My friend and I sat riveted, studying, cigarette ashes growing long in the pause, the warm, golden hour sunlight kindling a breathless dampness, stunned. He didn’t look directly at us, two pretty ladies dressed for dinner and cocktails. Just a long, sideways glance into our ambient ether, which made it mysterious and heartbreaking and frothy. He simply turned and walked from the patio, out of sight, and indelibly imprinted upon my life. We sipped our champagne and smoked, wordlessly, sunglasses on, with a smile exchanged, both understanding that the Motorcycle Man from Marrakech had slipped through our fingers. I still think about him sometimes. Five stars.