Dream of Jasmine – Vision of a Night Journey in Shubra Baloula

I dreamed of a place where summer wasn't noisy, but fragrant. Where the moon stood over white-flowering fields and the air felt like honey.

The journey begins where everyday Egyptian life slowly turns into magic – deep in the heart of the Gharbia Governorate lies Shubra Baloula, a village that produces more fragrance than words can describe. Here, where approximately 2.18 million jasmine plants sway over 2,180 hectares of land, summer becomes a feast for the senses. From June to November , especially when the nights are warm and the days are sweltering, the jasmine awakens.

We drive out before midnight—past fields, clay-colored house walls, and the rhythm of the village silence. The road narrows, the light softens. We are on our way to a ritual that only exists under the cover of darkness.

Arriving in the village, we are greeted by the pickers: women with experienced eyes and gentle hands. Their clothing is simple, their movements rehearsed, almost like a dance. Each blossom is touched as if it were a secret—for the sun kills its fragrance, as has been known here for generations.

We follow them through the sea of flowers. The air is thick with jasmine and moonlight.

Barefoot or in light sandals, we stroll between the green rows as if through a poem. Our hands brush snow-white blossoms—delicate, sensitive, magical. We hear the rustling of the leaves and the crackling of the baskets, and we pick them ourselves—not many, just enough to sense how scent connects with history. Even the ancient Egyptians knew: scent is a being that only awakens in silence.

And then the dream turned to gold: jasmine oil, jasmine paste, distilled in village factories—enough to nourish the finest fragrances in Europe. International perfume houses send their requests here, but what we experience is something else: personal, sensual, mysterious. An intense experience in which we can create our own little fragrance sample—inspired by ancient recipes. We travel back in our minds to the time of the pharaohs, where fragrance was more than just a luxury. It was offered as a sacrifice in temples, blended with myrrh and lotus in ointments, and in the body care of queens, jasmine was a symbol of immortality.

Video credit to Eman Hussein

At the end, we sit on mats under the starry sky. The ground is fragrant, and our fingers too, and as a gentle breeze lulls the village to sleep, we sense that here the present blends with the breath of antiquity—in the breath of jasmine, in the breath of the gods.

When I awoke, my skin smelled of memories. And I knew: I had been there. In a dream. In a scent that lingered.

hmkree