Algeria Research Trip | March 2026

Each time I start a journey to somewhere new there is that quiet thrill inside; an adventure is about to begin. The first hurdle Richard and I had to overcome was to get to Algeria with the current difficulties in the Middle East. Our work around was NZ to Australia to Singapore to Istanbul to Algiers – a total of four flights and would you believe each one was delayed – yet we and our luggage made it!

Arriving into Algiers we saw sharp glimpses of green and grey. The airport was similar to many airports built or renovated around 1980 – lots of concrete, pillars and large halls. It happened we arrived at the same time as several other planes and I had that isolating feeling that I was a minority of one: blue-eyed, Caucasian, female traveller.  Thankfully there were many passport booths open and one of the many, many officials in blue uniforms with military hats directed us to “40”. I think that was one of his few words in English. Nevertheless, anything between 39 – 45 seemed fine and our official’s short, abrupt demands were dealt with. Off to the side we went into a neglected waiting room which smelt of smoke and our passports and documents went off somewhere else.

 After paying the Visa on arrival fees and observing lots of blue uniforms saluting each other we were reunited with our passports and we were free to find our luggage (happy hop that it arrived) and into Algiers. A sea of noisy people and no guide to be seen. Then a tall smiling man with dusky Arab/African features introduced himself – Sofiane Bacha. “Thank goodness”, I thought as step two was beyond my tired brain.

Out into the carpark and French cars parked and not parked and a traffic jam which took 30 minutes to get out of. Out of the airport and we were zipping along the motorway into the white city of Algiers. White buildings tumbling down the hills into the blue Mediterranean Sea. Everywhere resonances of Paris from ornate lamp posts to white road signs to elegant buildings. A beautiful white city with narrow streets dotted with palm trees. 

Bed for these tired travellers and more tomorrow.

So far we had seen no other tourist – its like the world got a memo and we missed it. Still, it’s nice to be somewhere quiet and nothing was as quiet as breakfast; all the food was laid out and no one around, not even attendants. We have arrived in Algiers as Ramadan comes to an end so no eating or drinking from sunrise to sunset – except for soft Westerners.  

We met up with Sofiane at 9am and it off up the coast to the town of Cherchell. Once the capital of the Numidian kingdom, today it’s a pleasant, dusty town lined with small shops. Men wearing traditional Djellaba, a long robe and women wearing something similar but with a head scarf.

First stop was the museum and as Cherchell is on the coast our carpark overlooked the harbour and its many fishing boats. The bounce of colour from the boats was met by the intense blue sky and golden rocks. The museum was small and had wonderful pieces of Greek, Roman and Egyptian statutes. Egyptian? I hear you question. Let me introduce you to the strange yet true story of the daughter of Cleopatra VII who came here to marry the Numidian King, Juba II in 3 BC.  And yes, she was the daughter of that Cleopatra and Mark Antony. 

Back on the road we travelled to the ruined city of Tipaza, a city with a long tangled history of settlement, military action, roman life and eventual abandonment. (A very brief history line: Algerian ancestors, Phoenician traders, Greek Influence, Roman Occupation, Vandal Destruction, Byzantines Resettlement, Ottoman Conquest, French Colony, Algerian Independence) We were met at the gate by our local guide and Sofiane did an able job of translating the guide’s French into our English and keeping the man on track. Tipaza today is recorded as a vast Roman town upon three hills; in reality it’s partly uncovered buildings amongst trees and bushes. We started at the amphitheatre (built on top of the Punic graves) and then walked to the market area where the two streets found in any roman town intersect. Temples to the left and shops to the right. Moving to the most significant area where there was the remains of the basilica which overlooked the sea and a view to the distance mountain. Tipaza was once prosperous and busy, if the size of the theatre and the horse troughs are indicators.

To me, Tipaza was sleeping, waiting for the archaeologists to come and unearth its multiple wonders; it’s bustling roman life with the ships bringing goods from all over the empire, the tension as that new religion Christianity was introduced and of course the everyday life of the people from cooking to bathing to bringing up their children.

Next on our list of sites was a visit to the Royal Mausoleum of Mauritania and back to our story of Cleo and Juba. Here was their tomb, high on a hill with panoramic views of the Mediterranean. Juba built the mausoleum for his family with a reference to pyramids. Unusually its round with four false doors. A French archaeologist broke into the tomb through the floor beneath the Eastern door. All in all it looks like several people had a go at dismantling the structure. Huge oblong stones were thrown on the ground and some of the walls severely damaged. Nothing can take away from its viewpoint and dominance on the horizon line.

Sofiane played us his favourite music on the drive back to Algiers and we accompanied him to dinner so we could see how the faithful break their fast during Ramadan. Seated at a low table our cheerful waiter brought several dishes including dates, carrots and eggplant. Soup arrived but poor Sofiane waited until the legal time to eat: 7.01pm. Soup was followed by chicken and a vegetable mix; finally apricot sweets which Sofiane assured us contained 1 million calories each. He dropped us back at the hotel and planned to have another snack before sleep and waking early so he could eat before sunrise. 

An early start as we were flying to Constantine and it was the Thursday before the end of Ramadan (tomorrow). The airport was slammed with people trying to get home. Quick flight to Constantine and our new local guide Abla. This lovely female guide is going to look after us for the next two days. 

First stop was the Emir Abdelkader Mosque. I wasn’t ready for a mosque, so Abla took me to find a covering for my trousers. Can I say there was once again No One Around. This beautiful, huge mosque was something else. I have visited many mosques but the interior of this one was a harmony of greens and creams. Everywhere were decorations and the most impressive were the stained glass windows. As we were visiting the morning light split the colours across the carpet. Tomorrow 120,000 people can be accommodated for the special Ramadan Friday Mosque. When we were leaving a cleaner asked me what I thought of the Mosque. “Beautiful”, I said. His reply, “ We have a saying, beauty is seen with beautiful eyes.” Nice. 

Next Abla had kindly arranged coffee for us and a small break before discovering more of this city on a rock. Its an enormous rock plateau  with steep sides and once again is a story of civilisation upon civilisation. Abla arranged for us to visit the Palace of Ahmed Bey. This place was very demure on the outside and a riot of colour in pattern on the inside. The Ahmed had travelled extensively and so had a mural painted of his adventures along the many corridors. Internal gardens and lush rooms, this palace was a visual delight. My favourite area was the harem where a swimming pool placed in the courtyard was beautifully proportioned.

Out into the busy marketplace of Constantine and lots of locals out and about buying new clothes for children (a tradition for the end of Ramadan) and food for the celebrations. Most people wore the traditional dress or the modern interpretation of it. Alba promised me we will go to a women’s store so she can explain the clothes. (Watch this space).

Abla wanted to show us the seven bridges of Constantine which included a natural bridge, lower bridges across the river, pedestrian bridges and vehicle bridges. As mentioned, old Constantine was built on a rock so the more modern bridges are the link between the rock across the gorge to the next plateau or new Constantine. It all makes for a different and interesting location with incredible views.

Last stop before picking up our police escort (oh yes, tourists in Algeria are required by law to have police escorts. I don’t think there is any danger; its more to ensure help is on hand if needed). Rich and I had a sneaky quick lunch (because of Ramadan) in a closed restaurant on the bottom floor where no one could see.

Quick visit to the museum with its highlight of mosaic floors and perfectly intact glass and pottery. 

Then it is was zoom zoom out into the countryside with our three tall policemen in their small car. We were off to Tiddis, another roman site built on a hill as a garrison outpost for Constantine. Built on top of Neolithic caves its was tumbled ruins in the middle of farmland. Literally the road ended at Tiddis and high on the hill there was silence and uninterrupted views to Constantine. I was all for looking for the roman road which once linked Tiddis to Constantine but time didn’t allow – no doubt its been ruined by modern farming.

Back to Constantine and an early night.

The holidays are definitely over as the streets are full of traffic, people walking and children about. There are five villages in the valley, each one distinct and preserved by UNESCO. Our first village to see was El-Atteuf. Built on a rocky hill this village is crowned by a mosque with its houses cascading down the slopes with narrow, winding streets.  Only pedestrian traffic or donkeys were on these lanes. The walls are compacted gypsum with the ground floor having only doors on to the lane and windows on the first floor and a roof top area. Covered archways reinforced walls and add shade and as the day got hotter that shade was very welcome. This is the oldest village and the people who live here are very conservative. Women in those white robes, men in the djellaba or pleated trousers or both. Turbans have appeared and these can be in any colour from bright yellow to white.

Despite its age El-Atteuf is a living town and the number of electric cables, air conditioning units and drains suggest behind closed doors there is a modern standard of living. We did see inside a traditional home with carpets and kilim on the floors and open spaces to the sky; small cramped rooms with animals inside. Sofiane told us that every home is the same size and layout as this society has a very egalitarian ethos. We did pass a cemetery which was simplicity itself; every grave the same, no headstones and each plot marked by either 1 or 2 stones to denote gender.

Driving in Ghardaia is not for the faint hearted as the streets are basically one lane wide with walls and buildings on each side. Traffic must frequently stop and manoeuvre carefully to get pass each other. 

M’Zab Valley is an oasis basin filled with date palms and small buildings. Its five hilltop villages are ancient and preserve a community which has followed strict rules for hundreds of years. Known throughout Algeria as successful traders the Mozabites present as modest unassuming people.

Off to the market square and the oldest part of Ghardaia. The large open space had the usual stalls but the real action was in the narrow lanes leading into the plaza. In typical eastern style each axis had a speciality: one for fresh food, another for clothing and so on. Cobbles underfoot, food on mats, planks or narrow tables, people (mostly men) everywhere. The food ranged from fungi, vegetables, fruits, dates to chicken and goat and thankfully the price was the price so trading was swift and quiet. At twelve everything shuts for lunch and afternoon rest until 4 or 5pm. I was on a mission to find out what the ladies wear under their white robes – turns out its normal clothing.

Once upon a time the caravans came to the valley and were allowed to stop at the outer limits of the villages, unload and then enter the inner part of the towns to reach the trading squares. These squares varied in size and each had a central place where the auctions were held. Even today the higher more private sections of the towns are closed to visitors unless you are registered with the town authorities and have an official guide from that town. If a resident is moving in the narrow lanes visitors are asked to step to the side and let them pass and no photos of people. There is the intense feeling that the residents of these towns respect and consider their community and wish to preserve its values into the future.

We finished the day with sunset seen from the ridge line looking across the basin filled with date palms, mosques, cemetery and small houses. The sun threw deep oranges and yellows beneath the purple clouds and disappeared over the horizon line on its way to wake up our family, tomorrow in New Zealand.