Marrakesh is full of oases – riads, gardens, parks and palaces where, suddenly, upon entering, the sounds of the city stop; cars, scooters, people shouting and donkeys braying give way to tranquility; one hears the sound of birds singing, water flowing and, even, silence.

Despite its popularity, the Jardin Majororelle is one such oasis. Created by the French painter Jacques Majorelle in the 1920s over a period of almost forty years, it is famous for its iconic blue coloured building, an Art Deco and Cubist structure designed by architect Paul Sinoir, and surrounding cactus garden.

After Majorelle died, the gardens fell into disrepair for some years and there were plans to demolish it until fashion designer Yves Saint-Laurent and his business partner Pierre Bergé, both lovers of Morocco, decided to buy and restore it. After Saint-Laurent died in 2008, the gardens were taken over by a French not-for-profit organisation.

The famous blue colour of the house is Majorelle Blue – not, as I’d assumed, and read online, Klein Blue. Actually, according to RGB colours of both, they are very different.

Majorelle blue (below left) is RGB 96, 80, 220; Klein Blue (below right) is 0, 47, 167. Neither look anything like the colour of the house. Anyway, the internet seems to agree that ultramarine will suffice for both/either.

We spent hours in the lush botanical garden, walking along the criss-crossing pathways and immersing ourselves in the 300 varieties of plants and flowers, alongside beautiful water fountains and ponds. One pond was almost completely coated with lily pads, and each pad contained at least a couple of tiny frogs. When we heard a loud, collective croaking noise we assumed it was birds but it was actually the frog chorus. Also, lounging on the side of the pond, were many terrapins.

Marrakesh as a whole had surprised us with its abundance of flora and fauna – from mangy cats and donkeys in the medina, to palm trees and cacti dotted around the city, and copious birds just about everywhere.

The Majororelle Gardens are immaculately clean (with a mean team of serious security guards making sure no one steps off the garden paths or drops any litter), and with a cool breeze blowing, it makes a welcome contrast with the heat and dust of the city. Most impressive of all was the wonderful array of cacti, all shapes and sizes, but there are also numerous palm trees, banana trees, bamboo groves and bougainvilleas.

I did, however, have several – minor – problems with the gardens. One is that it’s been designed and always owned by French people, you know, the former colonists of Morocco (even our riad was owned by a Frenchman – does anything ever change?).

My other problem was the ridiculous Instagram posers who are ruining the world. We saw them all over Marrakesh but seemed to congregate in the Jardin Majororelle. Looking extremely serious like they were posing for a Vogue photo shoot, they were mostly young women wearing flowing dresses with a faraway look in their eyes. They were perfectly choreographed to their surroundings and had undoubtably researched what to wear for the day for that perfect Instagram shot. They were pathetic and laughable, and I did so in front of them as much as possible. The days of the casual snapshot are long gone.

The only way to be free in Marrakesh is to be a bird (but not a chicken); a wild bird (such as the house buntings flying in and out of our riad), a stork (building their nests everywhere from mobile phone antennas to chimneys), the sound of their bills clattering reminded me of the terrifying plants in the 1981 BBC series Day of the Triffids, or a swift (but not a tailor), flying in and out of the holes in the peach-coloured clay walls of the medina.

A selection of all of our photos on Flickr: Mayhem in Marrakech

Previously on Barnflakes
Picturesque North Africa
Flickagrams #9
Paul Bowles: Exile on Maghreb Street
Notes on Black Sparrow Press
The Stowaway
Casablanca