Sacred Sights & Sensory Delights

After the emotional whirlwind of yesterday at the pyramids, today began in true royal fashion — with the biggest buffet breakfast yet, overlooking the sacred Nile at Sofitel El Gezirah.

Plates were filled with warm Egyptian breads, za’atar-dusted falafel, fresh fruits, omelettes and sweet pastries that melted in my mouth. I sat beside the river of myths and miracles, flowing quietly as it has for thousands of years, reminded once again that nourishment is more than just what we eat — it’s everything we take in with our senses.

The breeze, the view, the gentle stillness amidst Cairo’s chaos... it was all a feast for the soul. There was something wildly humbling about sitting beside those ancient waters with a plate full of colour, joy, and nourishment. As I sipped my fresh mango juice, I couldn’t help but think: this is what presence tastes like.

From there, the moment arrived to travel back through time — leaving behind the modern luxury of breakfast and stepping into the sacred whispers of Old Cairo. Our journey began with the towering presence of the Salah Al-Din Citadel, perched at the highest point in the city.

There, the Mosque of Muhammad Ali awaited — the oldest ancient mosque in Cairo, built between 1830 and 1845. This architectural wonder took 15 years to complete and still stands with powerful grace, watching over the city like a timeless guardian.

As I stood beneath its domes and looked out across the skyline, the views were nothing short of majestic. Sacred land stretched beneath us, stories echoed from minarets and the call to prayer floated through the hills like a song the wind never forgot. Time felt both still and infinite and I felt that deep, familiar tug of awe — the kind that quiets your thoughts and fills your chest with reverence.

Standing above the sacred skyline of Cairo, I felt time dissolve — as if the past was not behind me, but beating softly within my chest.

From there, it was time to wander through Old Cairo — a deeply spiritual heartland where time folds in on itself. The air was thick with reverence and the narrow streets felt like prayers woven in stone. There was something incredibly moving about walking paths that have carried footsteps, whispers and hopes for centuries. A place where you don’t just walk — you listen. To echoes. To stillness. To the sacred stories held quietly in the walls.

One of the most memorable stops was the breathtaking Hanging Church — a stunning Coptic Christian church suspended above an ancient Roman gate. The floor creaked softly beneath our feet, yet the energy inside was unwavering: strong, sacred, protective.

Within its ancient walls, I was captivated by a portrait of Mary — often called the Egyptian Mona Lisa. Her eyes seemed to follow me from every angle, watching over each corner of the church with quiet strength and grace. It was haunting yet holy and held me in stillness longer than I expected — a moment of divine presence etched into memory.

Next came a deeply meaningful visit to a Jewish synagogue, where I learned more about the Tikken — a sacred, ornate covering used to protect the Torah scrolls. That small yet powerful detail stayed with me: the sacred being protected by something beautiful.

It reminded me how layers of meaning are woven through every tradition — and how deeply human it is to want to wrap the most meaningful parts of ourselves in something both tender and strong.

After all isn’t that what we all long for?

To preserve what we hold dear with reverence and care.

Shortly after, we entered another synagogue — but only briefly due to an upcoming funeral prayer, access was limited, especially for women. That experience left me with a quiet mix of awe and reflection.

It was a gentle reminder that sacred spaces carry their own timing, boundaries, and invitations. Different traditions honour space, time, and gender in ways we may not always fully understand — but they ask us to slow down, to respect and to witness without needing to define.

Up next came the firecracker finale in the famous Khan El Khalili old bazaar — a glorious, chaotic, soul-stirring maze of colour, sound, spice and bartering.

Colourful lamps swung from stalls like stars waiting to be plucked, while the scents of cardamom, oud, and mint tea swirled in the air. Voices danced between English, Arabic and a mixture of other accents under the sun.

I was armed with a few cheeky bits of Arabic slang — “la, shukran” (no, thank you) and “bi-kam da?” (how much is this?) — I bartered, laughed and survived with some sensational deals. Among copper lamps, embroidered scarves and crowded mint tea stalls, I felt both wildly alive and slightly overwhelmed.

Isn’t that the magic of travel? It asks us to adapt, to laugh, to lean into the unknown.

There was joy in the mess and magic of human connection — in the old man who said choosing to spend money in his store would “make me happy.”

Cairo I absolutely adore how much of a riot you are.

As the sun sets on Cairo, I am repacking my bags — soul a little fuller, heart a little wiser, sand still on my shoes and stories now etched into my bones. This city has whispered sacred secrets through every alleyway and echoed them from every rooftop. Cairo is chaos and calm, ancient and alive — and today, I was lucky enough to walk its holy ground with a belly full of buffet joy and a spirit stirred by something greater.

Some days arrive like a deep exhale — grounding, generous, and golden. Today was one of them.

As I stood for one final moment by the Nile, the sun melted into the horizon. Golden light met sacred river. Stillness met soul. And I knew — this was the kind of day you carry with you forever. A wild and wonderful blend of body, spirit, and story.

May we always remember that nourishment is more than what we eat.

It’s what we feel.

What we witness.

What we allow ourselves to receive.

Today, Cairo fed me in every possible way.

Tomorrow, a new chapter begins — with an early flight to Luxor, the land of temples, tombs, and ancient wonders calling out from the sands of time.
Tonight, I rest with a full heart and grateful eyes, knowing this journey has only just begun.

“Some places don’t just leave footprints on your path — they awaken forgotten parts of your soul, whispering truths only your heart can hear.”