I boarded the Heathrow Express from Paddington and slept all the way to the golden desert of my great Heliopolis. As I stepped off the plane into the balmy embrace of the desert air, it was as if the Sahara herself had greeted me—her dry, intoxicating heat felt ancient and eternal. Accustomed to the low hanging sun and its muted glow in Western Europe, I peered out to an empty horizon. Where was this great sun? The one whose blaze had inspired entire dynasties of myth and worship? I lifted my chin high up to the heavens above me, and there I saw him, the giant scorching globe of fire kindly peering down at me—God Ra. The most colossal version of him I had ever beheld, I now understood the fierce devotion the children of the ancient world had for him.

My journey began as I was greeted by my chauffeur Ibrahim of Cairo. He regaled me with tales of this ancient capital that unraveled like threads of myth as we drove along the serpentine river Nile into the heart of the city—the very jewel of the Arab world. He spoke of Egypt’s roads as ‘survival of the fittest,’ a rule of life befitting the audacity of the ancient Pharaoh. We veered, stopped, sped, and finally took a scenic route past the wondrous Giza triplets: Khufu, the tallest one with her gilded peak shimmering under God Ra; Khafre, the proud middle sister; and lastly Menkaure, the youngest and smallest ‘princess.’ The pyramidal trio remained in full sight as we pulled into the stunning grounds of Marriott Mena House, their silhouettes framed against the dusky sky.

After slipping free of my luggage, I wandered back into the delicious embrace of the desert heat. The hotel’s verdant, jasmine Eugenie Gardens unfolded like a mirage, the path leading to the 139 Pavilion restaurant. I dined alone under the watchful gaze of Khafre and Menkaure, sipping on lime margaritas, molokhia soup, flaky feteer, and creamy labneh. As twilight approached, a beautiful guitarist lit the glittering stars and serenaded us under a sky painted in shades of cerulean. As the waxing half moon in Virgo poured over the eldest sisters, Orion’s cinched constellation of starseeds shone on us and the pyramidal portals like Pink Floyd’s crazy diamond.

The Giza Necropolis

I rose with the first rays of God Ra, my heart flowing with fascination for the mysteries of the great desert. To awaken with a view of Khafre and Menkaure from my suite, and to remain accompanied by their gaze as I rolled down to the Pavillion to have breakfast is why Marriott Mena House is a slice of heaven. That morning involved silky Za’atar eggs and a home-brewed glass of iced Egyptian hibiscus tea. Everything about this world was different—from the bronze-coloured swift pigeons to a landscape washed in a gorgeous sandy beige. The power of exploring new lands, their beautiful people, and unseen creatures struck me in that moment—it was something I would never take for granted, but equally would continue to pursue forever.

We set off along the winding streets towards the Necropolis. On my entrance ticket, the letter ‘G’ was synchronously printed—the initial of my guardian angel. The night before, I had invoked the powers of Egypt’s sacred goddesses: Sekhmet, the fierce feline goddess of war and destruction, to grant me courage and resilience in the face of malevolent gazes; Isis, the winged goddess of magic and healing, to shield and protect my spirit; and Hathor, the goddess of love and beauty, to bless me with an irresistible magnetism that would continue to unfold throughout my life beyond this sacred land. I so deeply felt the presence of my angels and goddesses in that moment of synchronicity.

As we arrived, my guide Mohammed led me toward the singular entrance of Menkaure. Stepping into the shadowed crevasse, I crossed the depths of a tomb that felt less like a structure and more like a portal to the pharaonic afterlife… The air was heavy with the weight of millennia and stretched before me with ancient art and hieroglyphs etched into the wall. At the end of the tunnel, a narrow passage rose steeply upwards, marked by wooden rungs forming a ladder—a one-way channel into the heart of the pyramid. Each step upward brought me closer; the tight confines pressing around me were a poignant reminder of the unfathomable ingenuity behind the creators of this ancient architecture. Yet despite the claustrophobic confines, a deep sense of gratitude grew within me. To stand within this sacred portal—this key to the realm of the Annunaki—was an honour that felt more spiritual than physical. That journey into the heart of Menkaure is etched into the fabric of my soul. A moment I’ll treasure throughout this and all lifetimes.

After paying our respects to the fourth dynasty King Menkaure, we made our way to the camel sanctuary. The Egyptian cotton vendor wrapped my head and face with a pearly desert scarf, its softness shielding me from God Ra’s intense gaze. I remain so profoundly opposed to animal exploitation fuelled by tourism, yet these camels were serene, settled in the sand with folded hooves and thorny plants under their tongues. I mounted my camel with grace, feeling the rhythmic sway of its slow and regal gait ripple through my torso and waist. We walked in harmony, gently undulating forward. Our unhurried stride felt hypnotic and reminded me how ancient this magnificent creature was. As we rode along the Giza necropolis, the pyramidal portals rose beside us, their ancient forms radiating against the endless expanse of the great Sahara. Every step was steeped in magic, as Horus watched us with a piercing eye from above. To journey through the sand the way those of the ancient world did was almost biblical. It was a journey through time and space, where the boundaries of my modern world dissolved into a dry ocean of gold, kissed by the god of life.

Perfumes and goddesses

Our journey led us to the Al Fayed Parfumerie, a cornucopia owned by Mohammed Al-Fayed. Amidst the rows of glistening glass bottles and the heady sillage of ancient fragrances, we were engulfed by a world of luxury and sensorial magic. We lathered ourselves in powdery floral oils and velvety Egyptian Oud, along with the sweet resinous warmth of amber, cardamom, and dry cinnamon. As we sipped the blood-red hibiscus tea, the room seemed to glow with the essence of a primordial era where perfume was not just fragrance but a sacred ritual.

We discovered bottles of the original aldehydic Chanel N°5 extract; its notes were raw yet eternally classic. It was however the ‘Five Secrets of the Desert’ that truly mesmerised me. This elixir is an intoxicating blend of floral notes intertwined with an amber-vanilla essence. These oils were once used by the Pharaohs and Queens like Cleopatra to temper the heat of God Ra, neutralising his intensity while invoking blessings of beauty and protection from the great goddesses.

After the parfumerie, we ventured to a jeweller’s—where rings of emerald and Egyptian turquoise glittered as a reflection of ancient artistry. However, an even greater gift awaited, as my father presented me with an Egyptian cartouche—an elongated oval pendant bearing inscriptions that echo through time. Traditionally used to encase the names of pharaohs, my cartouche bore my brother’s name in hieroglyphics, immortalising him in the language of the gods.

The reverse side of this sacred talisman held the Ankh—the Egyptian key of life as a timeless emblem of vitality; the Scarab—the divine harbinger of renewal and the bearer of God Ra; and the all-seeing Eye of Horus—a guardian of protection and wisdom. To wear this cartouche is to carry a piece of my angel brother, his name inscribed in the language of an ancient civilisation. It is a tangible connection to the divine, to the desert’s mystique, and to a love my father and I share for him that transcends time-space.

Marriott Mena House

There is something undeniably enchanting about Marriott Mena House. Nestled at the foot of the Giza Pyramids, it offers a once-in-a-lifetime view of the ancient necropolis from every corner of its estate. The property’s history is as rich as the land it occupies—dating back to the 1800s, it was originally a hunting lodge for Egyptian royalty. In 1890, the Locke family purchased it from the government and transformed it into a hotel, preserving its regal legacy.

Beyond the exuberance of Cairo’s souks, bustling bazaars, and the breathtaking treasures that lie within the Grand Egyptian Museum, some days were spent basking in the warm embrace of the desert heat, swimming laps along the pool. Stretched out like a sapphire ribbon, it shimmers under God Ra, framed by lush gardens and the ever-watchful pyramidal portals. The air was fragrant with the mingling scents of blooming jasmine and sun-warmed stone—a feast for my senses that, like the hotel itself, linger on my skin and soul long after my time in Cairo.