Family fantastic in Morocco: Hiding away in the ‘pirate castle’ at Magazan Beach Resort

Am I a terrible parent? Is it wrong to want time off from my kids? Even though this is supposed to be a family holiday? Can you really sunbathe in Morocco in December?

And more important than any of this – will the wine be any good?

These were the thoughts that circled my mind as we cruised up the long, palm-fringed driveway of The Mazagan Beach Resort. I had never been to an all-inclusive hotel before, never mind a five-star one, and I don’t mind admitting that I felt a little guilty (and also a little excited) about the prospect of crèches, kids clubs and babysitters.

But while I was busy soul-searching, my sons – aged two and four – were not showing any signs of regret. Clutching juice boxes and chocolate biscuits, they whooped with unbridled joy as a towering ‘pirate castle’ emerged from the swaying palms and glittering lights.

Judging by the expression on my wife’s face, she was beginning to get used to the idea, too.

‘Pirate castle’ is a pretty accurate description of Mazagan. This five-hundred-room mega resort has the appearance of an ancient mud-brick ksar rising out of a natural oasis. It isn’t, of course. It was opened in 2009. But great care – and around £274 million – has gone into its elaborate construction.

Arching marble courtyards, Portuguese-inspired mosaics, Moroccan lamps, and dozens of gargantuan water features pepper the lush, manicured gardens. And let’s not ignore the seven kilometres of pristine private beach.

As we were ushered through sliding glass doors into the colossal domed atrium – smiling staff relieving us of our luggage and delivering us to our floor-to-ceiling ocean view bedroom – all my guilt seemed mysteriously to evaporate.

This stubborn lack of remorse stayed with me throughout the morning as we strolled along the all-but-deserted beach in the twenty-degree December sunshine.

And it continued through the afternoon and evening as I realized that – since London and El Jadida share the same time zone – we were not going to suffer any jet lag.

Even the three-hour flight had been pretty painless. By happy coincidence, three hours is precisely the running time of Ice Age 4 and Toy Story 3 played back to back.

I’ll be honest, though. Arriving at the resort I was worried that we would all be bored. After all, who wants to be stuck in the same hotel for an entire week?

But as it turns out, the problem with Mazagan is not the lack of things to do. The problem is deciding what to do on any given day. Horse riding, camel riding, surfing, quad biking, jet-skiing, beach volleyball, tennis or archery? A morning excursion to Casablanca or Marrakech? A flutter at the resort casino or a drink at one of the nine restaurants and bars? Or should you eschew all that rushing about in favour of a few hours’ blissful non-activity at the resort’s epically glamorous hammam?

Children are also amply catered for. There are three kids’ clubs – the first for children aged three months to four years, the second for four- to 12-year-olds, and the third for 12- to 17-year-olds.

In addition to all this top-notch childcare, there is a petting zoo, a go-cart track, and a cinema – as well as tennis, football, horse riding and surfing lessons for older children. Suffice to say, kids of all ages are spoilt for choice. Or just plain spoilt. However you want to look at it.

I don’t want to give the impression that we didn’t spend any time with our boys, either. Despite a healthy dose of adults-only loafing, we did manage to pack in a lot of quality family time too.

The usual holiday staples of swimming, cycling, beachcombing and general mooching were all on the program. But the highlight for me was undoubtedly our family trip to Azemmour.

This spell-bindingly beautiful town is twenty minutes’ drive from the marble cocoon that is Mazagan, and well worth a morning’s excursion. Road signs in French and Arabic flew by, Chaabi folk music pumped from car stereos, and ramshackle houses in pastel pinks and blues vied for our attention.

Stepping from the car into the winding sunlit streets, I was suddenly seized by that rush of adrenaline that only comes with travelling. The boys were wide-eyed with wonder and, for a few magical hours, so were we.

Returning to the resort, the kids safely tucked up in bed, my wife and I enjoyed a belly-dancing show, a seafood platter the size of a small car, and a bottle of Moroccan Touareg white wine that rivalled the choicest French or Californian Chardonnay. The evening was rounded off with a couple of ‘Quick F***’s’ at the blinged out on-site nightclub. That’s a cocktail, before anyone writes in to complain.

At this point, I should mention that Mazagan is tagged on its website as a ‘beach and golf resort’? I must admit that I don’t care for golf. Having been forced by my grandparents to watch The Masters back in the dim and distant Eighties, I would go as far as to say that I actively despise it.

Childhood trauma notwithstanding, if I were a golfer I would most certainly want to play a few rounds at Mazagan. The resort’s coast-hugging course is the longest in Morocco, and even hardline non-enthusiasts like me can appreciate its grand, manicured beauty.

I’m not a gambler, so the resort casino didn’t hold much allure for me, either.

I’d like to say that I object to Black Jack on moral grounds, but the truth is I’m just rubbish at cards. I did try to get into the spirit of things. I just find it hard to get excited about glum-faced chain smokers pushing coins into one-arm bandits.

Still, the beauty of Mazagan is that – even if golf or gambling isn’t your thing – there will always be something that is. We opted for an afternoon of quad biking – and as a quad-biking virgin, I was amazed just how peaceful and soothing the experience turned out to be. Gliding across the mirror-like sand, with the sun setting over the ocean, my mind began to wander:

‘I feel like Peter Fonda in Easy Rider’, I thought to myself, between throttle bursts. ‘Only fifteen years older. And five stone heavier. With kids.’

An hour later, I was in the spa being rubbed down with salt and rose water. And why not?

The Mazagan hammam is the sort of place where you can imagine Jabba The Hut keeping Princess Leia chained up for weeks. You haven’t had the full Mazagan experience until you’ve been laid out on a slab of marble and exfoliated to within an inch of your life.

Bear in mind, though, that all this five-star luxury comes with the inevitable five-star price tag. The King of Saudi Arabia purportedly took over the entire hotel for forty days and forty nights. The mini-bar tab alone would surely have covered the third world debt.

On our last morning at the hotel, I walked into the bathroom to find my sons scrawling on the white marble floor with red and green crayons. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Arabian kings have to put up with this sort of thing.

Crouching down on creaky knees with a bar of soap and a face flannel, I consoled myself with one undeniable fact – this had been one of the best family holidays we’d ever had.

If I were the King of Saudi Arabia, I’d be here every weekend.

Travel Facts

ITC Classics (01244 355 527; www.itcclassics.co.uk) is offering seven nights for the price of five at The Mazagan Beach Resort (www.mazaganbeachresort.com), with a saving of up to £2,069 per family.