Algeria

Overlooking central Algiers. May 2025.

I went to Algeria in early May this year, originally intending to travel with a friend but ending up alone due to some bumbling bureaucratic circumstances. Algeria is big. It’s the largest Arab country, and you feel it when you hop between cities on ATR 72s.

People call it closed. Securing my visa in New York was straightforward but required multiple visits to the consulate before finally being granted.

Landing in Algiers felt strangely like a homecoming, despite every taxi driver enthusiastically explaining what the Arab world is like, as if it were my first visit. Still, it had the familiar charm of other vibrant Arab cities. No shisha culture, which threw me off for a bit.

Various Algiers street art.

Algiers immediately felt welcoming. It’s the most functional Arab city I've encountered—people visibly employed, a functioning (albeit compact) metro system, and surprisingly clean streets. It's more expansive than initial impressions suggest, dotted with beautiful mosques, intriguing street art, and detailed mosaics. Algerians clearly cherish their books, evident in bustling bookshops and roadside stalls packed with literature in both French and Arabic.

It's also clear Algerians expect foreigners to speak French. Every interaction began in French and continued in French despite my consistent replies in Arabic. Amusingly, when asking for prices, Algerians invariably stated numbers in French, even mid-conversation in Arabic, prices were always in French, even in the middle of an Arabic sentence.”

The city quiets early; by 10 or 11 pm, lively streets empty as everyone retreats home. Bars exist but feel discreet: locked doors, shaded windows, steep prices. I tried Beaufort beer, which was very acceptable. Unlike Iraq, restaurants here don't enforce male/family segregation, and power outages are notably absent.

Martyr's monument.

Having previously read Alistair Horne's "A Savage War of Peace," it became vividly clear how Frantz Fanon had his revelations here. French influence is everywhere, alongside Amazigh in Tifinagh on signs¹. Museums keep the Roman mosaics in shape; newer mosaics spill into public space.

The Martyrs' Memorial emphasizes French colonial atrocities, clearly delineating history at the point of independence in 1962. Traces of the post-independence civil war have largely disappeared, leaving the city remarkably undisturbed and functional.

Constantine cliffs.

Constantine, compact yet spectacular, offered dramatic vistas with bridges arching across deep cliffs and valleys. An Algerian teacher I met there praised the extensive government subsidies, making life affordable and comfortable. Known as the City of Bridges, Constantine lives up to its nickname with numerous picturesque crossings linking neighborhoods across sheer cliffs. The drive to Timgad was plains into mountains. Parts looked like Iraq.

On the road to Timgad.

Timgad Eastern gate.

Timgad was a surprise: Roman ruins spread out and intact, mosaics everywhere.

Outside the basilica.

Annaba was quieter. Saint Augustine’s Basilica dominates the hill. Here, I unexpectedly met a thriving community of Christian students from Cameroon. At Hippo Regius, the stonework and inscriptions hold up. Although the basilica grounds unfortunately showed signs of neglect, the relics within remained compelling, especially poignant as I visited on the day Pope Leo, notably an Augustinian himself, made an announcement that underscored my religious motivations for visiting Algeria.

The man himself.

I'd go back. Quiet nights, deep history, easy to settle in and write.

My favorite Roman mosaic of fish in Algiers.