Author's Notes

When I return to the Mena House to chat with its new general manager Sanjiv Malhortra, I follow simple routines: Mornings at the Mena House are devoted to tennis or golf and swimming before breakfast; and a cup of fresh peppermint tea at the lobby bar. A brisk walk up the ramp to the Great Pyramid is a great exercise. 

The Mena House always was a destination in its own right. Some used to spend the entire winter here. Most comfortably located, right outside of Cairo and it’s treasures, next to the Great Pyramid, with the fresh and clean air of the desert. At lunch Zahi Hawass, Secretary General of the Supreme Antiques Council of Egypt, confesses that it was at the Mena House that he was nursed back to life after a heart attack.

Evenings are for cocktails followed either by the best Indian food west of Mumbai (Chef Rais Ahmed’s  Moghul Room presents miracles of mild and hot curries, tandoories and tikkas) or barbecues at Oasis beside the pool.

Later I sit on my little balcony and gaze at the Pyramid. I actually stare. Every day, every night, I stare at the Great Pyramid. Every time, I think to discover new shades, new facets in this giant pile of stones. Every time I sit and wait for something to happen, and in the end I realise that eternity is like the proverbial water kettle: it doesn’t happen while you watch.

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