by Waking up after a night at sea, I was elated to look out the cabin window and see the sparkling white city of Algiers. The splendid capital rises from its Mediterranean bay in improbable layers, from the arches of the French colonial port to the warren of the Casbah and the clear blue sky, all dominated by the Martyrs’ Memorial, which represents the country’s fight for independence . “Never was the city in a nobler position,” wrote Edith Wharton, who visited on a yacht in 1888. In the cabin, my young son was still asleep. I looked at it and thought: we’ve done it, darling: from West Yorkshire to North Africa by rail and sea in 48 hours.
The journey would have been familiar to 19th-century British travelers who arrived here by steamship, but today few foreign tourists come to Algeria. Political unrest since the civil war of the 1990s, the administration’s focus on internal affairs and a lack of infrastructure have completely removed it from the tourist map. So when I was invited as a guest of the British Council Algeria as part of a literary exchange, I jumped at the opportunity.
My one-year-old son was too young to stay, so I cheekily asked if he could come too. To my delight, the British Council agreed and my capable friend Karen Hinckley accompanied me to help with childcare while she worked. The events were going to be environmentally themed, so it was appropriate to make the trip without flying. Karen and I come from Orkney, so long trips don’t intimidate us.
Applying for Algerian visas and booking the ferry was a confusing process and required help from our Algerian contacts, but we were happy to find that we could get to Marseille in one day. We took five trains, leaving home at 7am and arriving around 8pm, with tight changes in Leeds, London and Paris. On the train, two adults to one small child was a good ratio. One of us was able to take him on a walk, where he pressed buttons and smiled at strangers, while the other rested.
After a 40-minute dash through Paris to change trains, we boarded the spacious double-decker TGV, traveling at over 150 mph and watching the city’s rooftops turn into vineyards and lavender fields as we headed toward the South.
On the huge Algérie Ferries ship from Marseille, the three of us seemed to be the only non-Algerian or Franco-Algerian tourists. Everyone else seemed to have experience making the 19-hour trip, those who couldn’t afford cabins and brought air mattresses to sleep in the ship’s hallways. A crowd packed into the ostentatious dining room to enjoy a dinner of noodles and caramel cream.
There were times during the week when, hot and overstimulated, I feared I had taken on more than I could handle.
An Algerian spoke to us in the elevator and seemed surprised or impressed that we made the trip to Algiers despite “the problems.” He wasn’t sure what problems he was referring to. “Good luck!” He said: “There are problems. And it’s good”.
This phrase became my personal mantra for the trip. On deck at dusk, among Arab men and the smell of diesel and smoke, with no land in sight, it was calm. The ship shook. The prayer room was full.
On arrival in Algiers, Wahiba from the British Council met us and took us to our home for the week: the large Moorish villa Dar Abdellatif, with whitewashed arches, shady courtyards and tiled terraces, high on the side. west of the city, fenced. and guarded 24/7. The villa was a residence for artists since 1907 and today houses the headquarters of the Algerian Agency for Cultural Diffusion (AARC), as well as private guests.
The Algerian students, artists, writers, and other interested people who attended my simultaneous book translation events were fired up and insightful. They were particularly interested in hearing how the “nature writing” genre is popular in the UK and wanted to talk about the environmental issues they were concerned about, including pollution, plastic waste and soil erosion.
On a sweltering day, we left the city to visit the UNESCO-listed Roman ruins of Tipaza, which include a red-hued sandstone amphitheater, with some intricately mosaic floors intact. The Romans were just one of the waves of settlers in Algeria that included Phoenicians, Ottomans, Spanish and French, all of whom left their mark. A group of Kabyle women (the indigenous Berbers) arrived one day on an excursion, singing and playing drums with joyful howls, then walked towards the sea fully clothed and laughing.
Street markets sell fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices for locals rather than souvenirs for tourists.
Just beyond the ruins, facing the sea, stands a monument to the writer Albert Camus, who was born and raised in the country when it was a French colony.
Not only had we arrived in Algeria in the middle of a summer heat wave (hot even by Algerian standards) but also in the week of the year when the Internet had been requisitioned for the country’s high school exams. One day, while I was sitting with Wahiba, his phone rang and it was my number. He had called her 10 minutes earlier, but she had just arrived over several mobile networks and Wi-Fi connections. The call reflected how I felt: strange and dislocated.
There were several moments during the week when, hot and overstimulated, I feared I had taken on more than I could handle. One afternoon, a fire broke out in the dry grounds of the village and the quiet place was suddenly filled with hoses, buckets and fire extinguishers. Traveling with a child is a responsibility, and my son was so unsettled by the heat and unfamiliarity that I started breastfeeding him again, weeks after we stopped.
On our last day, we took a guided tour of Algiers’ Casbah, the historic citadel area of the city, winding through steep alleys between the high walls of houses, mosques and palaces. Street markets sold fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices for locals rather than souvenirs for tourists, and musicians played Algerian music. mandole under large patriotic murals. We saw the ruins of buildings bombed by the French during the war of independence and the places where Algerian fighters hid, as later portrayed in the 1966 film The Battle of Algiers.
Climbing hundreds of steps with my son on my back, I feared heat stroke, but then we reached a rooftop with stunning views of the entire city and refreshed ourselves with mint tea and couscous with honey while listening to the call to prayer that It came from all people. mosques at the same time.
It was a great privilege to visit a country that is not on the tourist route. We were warmly welcomed everywhere. A curly-haired one-year-old was a connection across language barriers. My son had his cheeks kissed, he chased many cats and ate delicious local cherries and figs. Never during the visit were we able to wander alone; We always had a guide or driver waiting. There have been kidnappings of Western tourists in the country and they kept me safe and showed me the best of the city, like the impeccable Hamma Botanical Gardens, where families strolled among fountains and giant palm trees.
From the roof of the villa I contemplated the lights of the city, enjoying the air of the Mediterranean Sea and the African heat.
I found a young, exciting and proud nation. I loved the way Algerians speak a distinctive mix of Arabic, French and Berber. DJ Snake’s Disco Maghreb topped the global YouTube charts with a video that mixes traditional Algerian culture with modern Arabic style and we talked about it with a smart English student, Brahim.
In the warm night, on the roof of the villa, hanging out to dry the baby’s clothes, I looked at the lights of the city and the port, the sand of the Sahara in the air, enjoying the mix of the air of the Mediterranean Sea and the heat African. Neither Karen nor I were prepared for how different the country would be. Men and women were mainly separated in public. There were few imported products in the stores and there were no ATMs or outside postal service. The pace was slower and the people were open.
Traveling by train and ferry required a slightly different, slower mindset, seeing the trip as part of the holiday. Parenting while traveling is hard work, but I have to do these things (pajamas, nap time, pasta) wherever we are, so why not do them in interesting places?
It is right to consider the environmental impact when traveling to Algeria, as the country is bearing the brunt of climate change. Forest fires broke out in northern Algeria this year, killing around 34 people and undermining forest restoration projects I visited.
Our trip to lively, hot Algiers felt like an old-fashioned adventure. It was special to share with my young son and my old friend and it is something we will always remember. There may have been problems but it was good.
Amy Liptrot is the author of the best-seller The Outrun, which has been made into a film starring Saoirse Ronan and is being released next month at the Sundance Film Festival. She traveled as a guest of the British Council. Visitors need a visa from the Algerian Embassy, which takes a minimum of 10 days. The TGV train from Paris to Marseille It takes 3 to 4 hours. Algérie Ferries sails from Marseille to Algiers twice a week (from 9pm to 11pm). UK-based Lupine Travel runs seven-night group tours of Algeria from £980 per person, including accommodation, local transport and guides, but not international travel.
