A home above the Nile.
We do not check you in. We welcome you home.
We dreamed of a home above the river — at a deserved distance from the city — and, believing in ourselves, built it.

Number 98, Nile Street: a lit marble entrance we tend every morning, and an old iron door polished because someone here loves it.

A wooden lift with two flap doors you close by hand — that is the ritual — rising slowly past the quiet floors. Honestly imperfect and treasured for it: a living artifact of old Cairo.

For the final flight, our oak staircase climbs under a canopy of gilded brass leaves, hung one by one.

The doors open — and the Nile, waiting in the windows.

Art we live with, in a home dreamed before it was built — small on purpose, with room for the generations after us. Guests score it 10/10; we call it home.