Touring Spain and Morocco by private jet delivers access normally reserved for celebrities | Canada Voices

I was surprised when the director of the Alhambra, Spain’s greatest cultural marvel, plopped to the floor of the tower-room like we were playing a game of Ring around the Rosie.

Located on a hilltop in Granada, the 14th-century fortress is famous for being the most well-preserved medieval Muslim palace in the world. Sturdy walls hide the delicate Moorish design within.

Writer Washington Irving, who lived in the Alhambra for three months in 1829, described it as “a rugged fortress without, a sumptuous palace within, war frowning from its battlements, poetry breathing throughout the fairy architecture of its halls.”

I was already taken by the poetry of Arabic calligraphy carved into the marble walls that surrounded us in one tower. Rodrigo Ruiz-Jiménez explained this room is so well-preserved that it’s reserved for scholars and rarely open to the public. But as part of our Abercrombie & Kent tour, he’d met our group carrying several comically long, iron keys that swung from a big metal ring. One opened the heavy door to this room, and as we stepped inside, our jaws collectively dropped to see the delicate bas-relief lit by sunlight.

The decorated walls, he said, were covered in messages. Each fairy-like line was scripture from the Quran or phrases praising the sultan. The geometric tiles covering the bottom half of the walls were also meant to mesmerize: circles, squares, triangles and polygons in blue, yellow, green and white made up mathematical patterns that never ended.

“Join me,” Ruiz-Jiménez said from the floor. “You’ll see what I mean.”

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So I did. The marble was cold, and the cool breeze passing through the horseshoe-arched windows felt a lot more brisk now – but I immediately saw what he meant.

My eyes were drawn up the walls. The room was once a living space for relatives of the sultan, and much of their daily life would have been spent sitting at this level. If I could understand Arabic, I’d never stop reading the decor.

Later, Ruiz-Jiménez invited us back to his office for coffee and conversation. He handed us over to his chief architect, who grabbed another set of enormous keys that opened more gates and passageways to areas the Alhambra’s 8,000 daily visitors don’t see.

This is what impressed me the most about the tour. Not the private jet I’d arrived on (though it was fun), not how sumptuous the guides made life on the road (though that was lovely), but the access it offered. Abercrombie & Kent is a luxury tour company that’s been in the game so long it can ask the man who runs one of the world’s busiest UNESCO sites to step away from his job to show its guests around restricted areas.

The small group tour explores the history and cultural connections between southern Spain and Morocco, illuminating how aspects of Andalusia and its nearly 800 years of Muslim rule show up in the architecture and cuisine in Morocco, where Muslims and Jews fled across the Strait of Gibraltar after Catholic monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella conquered Granada in 1492.

Later that morning, we’d walk in the footsteps of Alhambra visitors who arrived during the Nasrid dynasty. The Puerta de las Armas, or Gate of Arms, is another off-limits area, but after our guide inserted another enormous key, the door swung open. Our group went silent, so powerful were the views of Granada, the Albaicin old town and the distant mountains spread out before us.

A&K’s Spain and Morocco by Private Jet tour stops at five destinations in 13 days, covering some 2,600 kilometres. I was part of a much shorter, five-day tour, curated for media to understand how far and how fast one can travel when using a private jet.

It wasn’t a hard lesson to learn, really. Especially when our plane was the only one to land at the airport in Errachidia, Morocco. The modern, airy building was empty but for cleaning staff and two immigration officers. Quickly, our passports were stamped and we slid into waiting SUVs that sped us off to our desert camp some three hours away.

Tour operators at this level know how to create moments of wonder that fulfill guests’ fantasies. Our SUVs eventually turned off the highway to churn through the sand to meet our camels. Herders dressed in djellaba robes (don’t mind the Nikes peeking out beneath) wrapped our heads in scarves to protect against blowing sand, then helped us onto the beasts.

The sandy sea of dunes was turning orange in the setting sun. A more picture-perfect moment could not have been planned. Never mind that I could see the camp in the distance as my camel stood up, I appreciated that we took the long way there, wandering up and down the dunes for 30 minutes and posing for photos so I could feel like an explorer.

Inside the safari-suite tents, Moroccan carpets covered the floor, and king-size beds were made up with fine linens and electric blankets. Lift an interior tent flap and find a private ensuite, with a flush toilet, sink and seated shower.

We’d be in this glamping oasis for less than 24 hours but picturesque moments were carefully shaped: Sundown was greeted with wine and sunrise welcomed with coffee. Just our group and the rolling dunes. A Gnawa musical troupe entranced us before dinner with drumbeats, castanets and chanting song. (Later, Jean Bernard Coudon, the director of A&K Morocco, told us Madonna spent an evening just like ours at this camp. “A&K is about creating a cocoon,” he smiled.)

The next morning the SUVs pulled up in front of our tents and whisked us back to the airport (still empty). Our jet (air stairs down, Champagne chilling) was waiting. Paying guests on this US$47,000 tour would have several more flights, but this was our last. It took a while to board because we all wanted photos.

For many, that’s what makes private jet tours worth the price tag. It’s a chance to vacation like a celebrity. When the word luxury is tossed around like birdseed in the travel industry, how does one make sure their trip really is special? Exploring on a private jet might just do it.

It allowed us to swap the eight-hour drive from Errachidia to Marrakech for a 75-minute flight, and then sip fresh-pressed juices at a private jet lounge while waiting for our gang to get through security.

In Marrakech, A&K access meant skirting past the long lines to get into chic must-sees such as the Majorelle gardens and Yves Saint Laurent museum. It meant eye-popping lunches at five-star hotels where we dined outdoors at tables set for royalty with heavy damask napkins and gold cutlery. We supped on grilled meats, seafood and caviar. At one point, an Arabian horse with a braided mane pranced through a series of tricks before us. If this was the A&K cocoon, could I stay in pupa forever?

When we’d eaten our fill, our guide called ahead to open Amazonite, a museum-like shop in the Guéliz district packed with antiques and exquisite Moroccan craftsmanship. He’d overheard our group worrying about bargaining in the souks.

“A lot of guests like this place because there is no haggling,” Mohamed Bouchaab said as he led us inside. With the price locked, the owner took time to explain the meaning and history behind each piece I admired.

I became enchanted with a pair of earrings shaped like an Azmigah (Berber) compass. Appropriate for a travel editor, I reasoned, and splurged.

When we entered the souks, Bouchaab led us past the tourist tat, through alleys leading deep inside the market. This far in, there weren’t many tourists at the haddadine (metalworkers), chouari (woodworkers) and smata (leather slippers) sellers. He directed each of us toward our particular must-find – caftans? rugs? pottery? – he knew where to find quality pieces.

“Don’t be afraid to walk away if you really want it,” he advised. I even surprised myself by bartering for an ornate Moroccan teapot, and enjoying it.

By the end of the trip, I emerged from the A&K cocoon with a more mature understanding of the history and culture of the region. The tour’s insider access was remarkable, but, if I’m honest, it’s the private-jet flex that I’ll dine out on for years.

The writer was a guest of Abercrombie & Kent, which did not review or approve this article. Stories are based on merit; The Globe does not guarantee coverage.