Auberge Tangaro by Joanna Monkhouse

Auberge Tangaro is a few miles outside of Essaouira, near another of Jimi Hendrix’s legendary haunts, the village of Diabet. An Italian film director liked the area so much he bought a brothel, and converted it into Auberge Tangaro. Rooms are sparsely decorated, a bed with thick woolen blankets, white walls, perhaps a mirror, terracotta tiled floor, a couple of coloured rugs, blue painted doors and window frames. Auberge Tangaro has no electricity, the large brass candlesticks are not merely decoration, and in the evening glass lanterns are placed in the corridors. All rooms have fireplaces for chilly evenings. The white walls are streaked with candle and wood smoke and could do with a repaint. Some rooms have small terraces, with cushion-less cane chairs.

Hot water is sporadic in the blue and white tiled bathrooms, available in the morning but not always at night. Water is drawn from the well by a windmill that clanks every 5 seconds or so, noisily and incessantly. The dining room is a little sombre during the day, with sludgy green walls, dark wood tables, leather chairs and sofas and a huge fish mobile hanging from the ceiling, but at night, lit by so many candelabra, it is rustically romantic. Half board accommodation is the norm at Auberge Tangaro and the food is good, with 4 courses at dinner.

Breakfast (toasted bread from the night before) is served on the terrace, where the blue painted chairs and tables are now looking old. With no pool, half an hour’s walk to the sea and 15 minutes even to reach Diabet, Auberge Tangaro is fairly remote and a car is a must. Rather than living up to it, Auberge Tangaro is more shabby and tatty than its cheap chic reputation.