by Waking up after a night at sea, I was glad to look out of the cabin window and see the city of Algiers, glowing white. The magnificent capital rises from its Mediterranean harbor in incredible layers, from the arches of the French colonial port to the Kasbah square, to the clear blue sky, all overlooked by the Martyrs’ Memorial, which represents the country’s fight for independence. “Never was the town nobler,” wrote Edith Wharton, who visited on a yacht in 1888. In the cabin, my toddler son was still asleep. I looked at it and thought, we’ve done it, baby: all the way from West Yorkshire to northern Africa by rail and sea in 48 hours.
British travelers of the 19th century who came here by steamer would have known the trip, but very few foreign tourists come to Algeria today. 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 tourism map. So when I was invited as a guest of the British Council in Algeria as part of a literary exchange, I jumped at the chance.
My one-year-old son was too young to leave, so I asked if he could come too. To my delight, the British Council and my talented friend Karen Hinckley agreed with me to help with childcare while I worked. The events were to be environmentally themed, so it was fitting to make the trip without flying. Both Karen and I are from the Orkney Islands, so I have no doubts about the long journeys.
Applying for Algerian visas and booking the ferry was a confusing process and we needed help from our Algerian contacts, but we were happy to learn that we could go as far as Marseille in one day. We took five trains, leaving town at 7am and arriving around 8pm, with sharp changes in Leeds, London and Paris. On the train, there was a good ratio of two adults to one small child. One of us was able to take him for a walk, where he pushed buttons and smiled at strangers, while the other rested.
After a 40-minute dash across Paris to change trains, we boarded the spacious double-decker TGV, traveling at more than 150mph and watching the city’s rooftops turn to vineyards and lavender fields as we headed south .
On the huge Algérie Ferries ship from Marseille, the three of us seemed to be the only non-Algerian or French-Algerian tourists. Everyone else seemed to experience making the 19 hour journey, those who couldn’t afford the cabins to sleep on air mattresses in the ship’s halls. A crowd poured into the glitzy dining room for a dinner of noodles and crème caramel.
During the week there were moments when I was afraid, overheated and overstimulated, that I had taken on more than I could handle.
An Algerian man spoke to us in the elevator and seemed surprised or amazed that we were making the trip to Algiers despite “the problems”. I wasn’t sure which 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. Out on deck at sunset, among Arab men and the smell of diesel and smoke, with no land in sight, I was calm. The boat shuddered. The prayer room was full.
On arrival in Algeria we met Wahiba from the British Council and were taken to our home for the week: the Grand Moorish Villa Dar Abdellatif, all white-washed arches, shaded courtyards and tiled roof terraces, high up on the west side of the city , gates. and protected 24/7. The Villa has been an artists’ residence since 1907 and today houses the headquarters of the Algerian Agency for Outreach of Culture (AARC) as well as private guests.
The Algerian students, artists, writers and other interested people who attended my book events that were translated simultaneously were on and attentive. They were particularly interested to hear how the genre of “nature writing” has become popular in the UK and wanted to talk about the environmental issues surrounding it, including pollution, plastic waste and soil erosion .
One sweltering day, we left the city to visit the Unesco-listed Roman ruins at Tipaza, including an amphitheater of red-hued sandstone, with some intact, intricate mosaic floors. The Romans were just one of the waves of settlers in Algeria that included Phoenicians, Ottomans, Spanish and French, and they all left their mark. A group of Kabyle women – the indigenous Berbers – came on a day out, singing and playing drums with joy, then walked into the sea fully clothed and laughing.
The street markets here sell fruit, vegetables, herbs and spices to the locals as well as souvenirs for tourists
Just behind the ruins, a monument to the writer Albert Camus, who was born and raised in the country when it was a French colony, stands looking out to sea.
Not only did we arrive in Algeria in a mid-summer heat wave – hot even by Algerian standards – but also in the week of the year when the internet dominated the nation’s baccalaureate exams. While I was sitting with Wahiba one day, her phone rang and it was my number. I called her 10 minutes before, but it just worked through different mobile networks and wifi connections. The call reflected how I felt: strange and dislocated.
During the week there were several moments when I was afraid, overheated and overstimulated, that I had taken on more than I could handle. One evening, a fire broke out in the dry grounds of the villa and the quiet place was suddenly busy with hoses, buckets and extinguishers. Traveling with a baby is a responsibility, and my son was so moved by the warmth and familiarity that I started breastfeeding him again, weeks after he stopped.
On our last day, we took a guided tour around the Casbah of Algeria, the historic district of the city, weaving among the steep lanes between the high walls of houses, mosques and palaces. The street markets here sell fruit, vegetables, herbs and spices to the locals as well as souvenirs for tourists, and Algerian musicians played mandole about a great patriotic mural. We saw the ruins of buildings bombed by the French during the war of independence and places where Algerian fighters hid, as later shown in the 1966 film The Battle of Algiers.
Walking up hundreds of steps with my son on my back, I was afraid of heat stroke, but then we reached a roof with amazing views of the whole city and were refreshed with mint tea and honey couscous while listening to the call to prayer flowing from all sides. mosques at the same time.
It was a great privilege to visit a country that is not on the tourist track. We were warmly welcomed everywhere. A one-year-old curmudgeon was a link across language barriers. My son kissed her cheeks, chased the cats a lot and ate delicious local cherries and figs. We were never able to wander alone on the visit; we always had a guide or driver waiting. Western tourists have been kidnapped in the country and I have been keeping it safe, showing the best of the city, like the amazing Hamma Botanical Garden, where families went for a walk among the fountains and giant palms.
From the roof of the villa, I looked at the lights of the city, enjoying the air of the Mediterranean sea and the heat of Africa
I found a young, exciting, proud nation. I liked how the Algerians speak a distinctive mix of Arabic, French and Berber. DJ Snake’s Disco Maghreb topped the global YouTube charts with a video mixing traditional Algerian culture with modern Arabic style and we talked about it with a smart English student, Brahim.
Up on the roof of the villa in the warm night, hanging baby clothes to dry, I looked at the lights of the city and the port, the sand of the Sahara in the air, enjoying the combination of the Mediterranean air and the heat of Africa. Neither Karen nor I were quite prepared for how different our country would be. Men and women were separated in public for the most part. There were few imported goods in the shops and no bank machines or external postal service. The pace was slower and people were open.
A different, slower mindset was needed to see the trip as part of the holiday. Parenting on the road is hard work, but I have to do this stuff – the pyjamas, the nap times, the pasta – wherever we are, so why not do it in interesting places?
The impact on the environment should be considered when you travel to Algeria, because the country is under the pressure of climate change. Wildfires raged in northern Algeria this year, killing a reported 34 people and undermining the forest restoration projects I visited.
Our trip to lively Algiers felt like an old fashioned adventure. Sharing it with my young son and my old friend was special and something we will always remember. There may have been problems but it was good.
Amy Liptrot is the author of the best-selling memoir The Outrun, which was made into a film starring Saoirse Ronan and broadcast for the first time. next month at the Sundance film festival. She traveled as a guest of the British Council. Visitors require a visa from the Algerian Embassy, which takes at least 10 days. The TGV train from Paris to Marseille it takes 3 to 4 hours. Algérie Ferries sail from Marseille to Algiers twice a week (21 to 23 hours). UK-based Lupine Travel runs seven-night group tours of Algeria from £980pp, including accommodation, local transport and guides, but not international travel.
