Is Algeria the following nice journey vacation spot in Africa?

From the open roof of the watchtower, above the labyrinth of slim alleys and serried rooftops, Ghardaïa seems as a rolling tableau of jumbled pastel cubes.

The one hints of modernity are the Tannoy audio system projecting from the mud-walled minarets on the summit of every hill. In any other case, we could possibly be a scene from any century within the final 10.

Regardless of its proximity to Europe, and huge presence on the north coast of Africa–roughly the scale of Alaska and Texas mixed—Algeria and plenty of of its most spectacular sights are little identified to vacationers exterior of its borders. 

“Algeria is without doubt one of the world’s hardest locations to enter and among the many least visited,” says Andrew Farrand, senior fellow for North Africa on the Atlantic Council, a international affairs suppose tank. “Of the 2 million or so official vacationer arrivals annually, most are members of the Algerian diaspora coming residence to go to household. Solely a handful are international guests.”

For these prepared to barter the bureaucratic hurdles to get right here, Algeria is arguably one of the vital rewarding locations that you may attain by way of a short-haul flight from mainland Europe. At this time, vitally, it’s also thought of to be protected and comparatively steady. Most international governments advise solely towards journey to its borders with Libya and Niger.

Legacy of French colonialism

The origins of Algeria’s anonymity lie within the current previous. Between 1830 and 1962, it was probably the most prized possession of the French empire. Independence got here in 1962, however solely after a bloody eight-year war between Algerian insurgents and French colonists which claimed between 400,000 and a million lives.

“France’s barbaric efforts to destroy Algerian culture bred deep anti-Western sentiment,” says Adel Hamaizia, a visiting fellow at Harvard University. “In the aftermath, the newly independent country was very motivated to rebuild and protect its religious and cultural identity.”

In the 1990s, as tourism to neighbors Morocco and Tunisia surged, Algeria was mired in what its people refer to as the “Black Decade,” when an Islamist insurgency instigated a bloody and protracted civil war. Anti-government protests toppled the administration of long-time president Abdelaziz Bouteflika as recently as April 2019.

Developing tourism

One legacy of this domestic upheaval is a prevailing attitude toward overseas visitors that is, if not actually hostile, then at least indifferent. The visa application process is Byzantine. Tourism promotion is non-existent. During my trip to the country in the spring, the only guidebook I could get my hands on was a second-hand Berlitz pocket-guide published in 1990.

The government’s disinterest in tourism, many observers argue, is due to the economic dominance of hydrocarbons. Algeria’s oil and gas sector comprises 20 percent of its GDP. Tourism, by contrast, accounts for barely 0.1 percent.

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“The oil curse infects everything,” says Farrand. “The industry gives the Algerian state the money it needs to avoid the hard work of developing more complex sectors like tourism.” According to recent reports, the spike in oil and gas prices as a result of the war in Ukraine has meant that Algeria exceeded its export targets for the first half of 2022 by 70 percent.

Wonders hidden in plain sight

Nevertheless, the rewards for coming here are many. Algeria is in several ways a giant hiding in plain sight. In the band of fertile land that hugs its Mediterranean coast are historic cities like Constantine, Oran, and the capital Algiers. Ancient Roman outposts like Djemila and Timgad (both UNESCO World Heritage sites) are among the best preserved archaeological destinations in North Africa. South, in the Saharan interior, the dune seas of the Great Ergs crash against the sandstone massifs of Hoggar and Tassili n’Ajjer.

“We’ve had record interest this autumn, but you can still go days in Algeria without seeing another tourist,” says Omar Zahafi, whose tour company, Fancyellow, caters almost exclusively to foreign visitors. “When we visit the Roman ruins and clients ask why there are no other people, I like to joke that I booked the site for them especially!”

Few places embody the tension between Algeria’s insularity and its tourist potential like Ghardaïa, the ancestral home of the Mozabites, Algeria’s fourth largest Berber tribe. A sprawling oasis town, 380 miles south of Algiers on the Trans Sahara Highway, it is a place where Algerian life is at its most traditional.

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It’s early afternoon in El Atteuf, one of five ksours, or hilltop citadels, that are collectively known as “the Pentapolis.” Once separate entities, the five walled towns have long since merged together into a labyrinthine conurbation that snakes along the desiccated valley of the M’Zab River. (Ghardaïa is both the name of the largest citadel and an unofficial shorthand for the whole region.) The French philosopher Simone de Beauvoir once likened it to “a Cubist painting, beautifully constructed.”

Like most places in Algeria, Ghardaïa is best explored with a guide. Indeed, in the ksours themselves, one is obligatory. Rules laid down by religious councils, which uphold a strict form of Ibadi Islam, permit entry to outsiders only at certain times of the day, and only in the company of a local chaperone. Some married women dress in the haik, a white garment that is wrapped around the body and head, leaving only a single eye exposed. Motorized transport is prohibited. Rubbish is still collected by donkey.

My guide, Hassissane Hadjsmael, a butcher with an impish air, leads us through the tranquil alleyways. In the middle of the day, when most of the valley’s inhabitants take a siesta, the lanes are populated only with gaggles of bashful children.

The citadel’s architectural consistency is a result of age-old norms of design and decoration. Up close, you can see that the walls are rendered in clay, then stippled with palm fronds to deflect the heat of the sun.

Hadjsmael gestures us through a low doorway and into a model interior now preserved as an unofficial museum. Inside is a pillared quadrangle with an open roof. Recesses on each side are bedecked in carpets. Most houses in the old towns have a similar footprint, albeit with some concessions to the 21st century. “My place is similar,” says Hadjsmael. “But I do have a big plasma TV.”

Change arrives slowly in Ghardaïa, but it does arrive. On the outskirts are the palmeries, groves of date palms whose fruits were once the backbone of the local economy. Now, its old summer homes are being converted into guesthouses.

In one of them, I meet travelers from Ohio sitting in a Berber tent set up in a shady courtyard. A musician, rakish in a dark green Tuareg turban, plucks at an oud under an olive tree heavy with fruit.

“You can tell that a lot of the people in Algeria are eager to share their country with the world,” says Katelyn Jarvis, an investment advisor from Cincinnati. “Nearly every interaction we’ve had has resulted in an invitation to visit peoples’ towns or to share a meal at their homes.”

Tourism is in its infancy here, but the hospitality is instinctive.

“I recently got my license to start hosting foreigners,” the guesthouse owner, Rostom Labchek, tells me. “I hope that more of them will come.”

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