It was a long day of driving, over 600km from In-Salah to Ghardaia, made more tiresome by Gendarmerie checkpoints. It seems our fiche has been copied so many times it is no longer legible, and they must transcribe our passports, a slow business. Claire managed to scrounge fresh bread from the police at one checkpoint, a nice return after all the stuff police have scrounged from us elsewhere (not in Algeria mind).
The oases became more frequent, until we reached the biggest, the five oasis towns centred on Ghardaia. Haakon had gone ahead with his own guide from In-Salah, but we met again in the town centre, and after dinner they showed us the way to a hotel, a few kilometers from the town. We followed narrow streets and groves of palms until we reached a high walled compound, an old kasbah with beautiful grounds. A really magical old building with random steps and low ceilings, full of local artifacts. I don't know the name, none is shown outside, but the coordinates are N 32 deg 29' 296, E 3 deg 40' 802.
With another long drive ahead, a pleasant town and lodgings, we decided to stay a second night. We had a restful day, venturing out only for a haircut (Con scalped) and a browse in a junk shop. I am really enjoying Algeria. It is not just the comfortable temperature, the cheap fuel and good coffee, but it feels like a country rich in history, stoically enduring another time of difficulty, like the Lebanon. And it helps that the people are so nice, the first time in Africa that it has been possible to walk the streets without uninvited interruptions.
Later in the afternoon we explored one of the walled towns, Beni Isguen. Although the numbers of tourists are low, the residents are well organised. We must enter by a particular gate, where we were met by a guide and shown the small museum. Our guide spoke a rather entertaining English learned while working at the airport at Southend-on-Sea, and he handled our questions with good humour. His people are Berber, and from a particular Islamic sect - the Ibadi - that is more common in Oman. They are conservative, and the women wear white, and married women peer out from their headscarves with one eye only. I am very sorry we did not have a camera, as Con had departed in a hurry wearing shorts. He needed to cover up, but nothing in his size was available, so he ended up wearing a knee length smock that served to emphasise his hairy shins, and would he would have fitted in well in The Life of Brian.
We took in a view of four of the five oasis towns from a tower at the highest point of the town. The five are now joined by Arab communities, and relations seem to be good. We finished our walk in the market square, full of old men chatting. Perhaps it is an indication of the austere sect, but there were no games of dominoes or cards, no hookahs, and no drinking, not even a coffee.
