On to Algiers via ancient Rome

 Early, early morning, all packed, hugs good-by to dear Fatmah, and pick up Abdekedar.  This is the plan: we drive north, meet Mohammed and Walid, we follow them to some sites of Roman ruins, then on to Algiers. Djelloul's soccer friend's sister has an apartment we can spend the night in, while Mohammed and Walid check-in at the place reserved for Army officers, we sight-see in Algiers,  meet Moctar and his friend at the airport, who will have driven up that day with our luggage from Tiaret, then Abdekedar drives Djelloul's car back to Tiaret, following Moctar in his car.  It's a plan only possible with the best of friends, and being the best of friends, which Djelloul is.

A beautiful day.  My arm is out the window half the time, clicking pictures.   I love early starts.

 A few hours North acres and acres of orchards appear, mile after mile.  They seem to be apple orchards, but we're not sure.  Imagine this in blossom time!

We go through several villages.  I love the street scenes.

 This, dear friends, is a palm-date tree.  That orange fuzz up there are dates, hanging on long stalks.  They are in season now, and we'll pick up a few boxes before we go home.  Djelloul brought some home when he had to pick up the luggage, and they are so tender and sweet!

Further North the streets level down, and almost look like tree-lined suburban boulevards.

But the farm lands resume.  Look at the fences.  They have no fondness for chain-link. Any chance they get they'll fill in the links with stalks and stalks of grasses.  Tres rustic.

 We saw fields of these yellow flowers.  Maybe mustard.  Mostly on Rock's side of the car, so it was impossible to snap.  Trust me, it was lovely.

We come to Cherchill by the Mediterranean.  These are trees I do not understand.  I call them bare-knuckle trees.  Djelloul says all the branches get cut off in winter, and you can see by spring the knobs grow green fuzz, which I guess then grow into stalks and leaves.  Clearly they are fond of them.  I wonder how much of the city budget goes into managing their coiffures.

The sign means no parking, ever.  All signs are taken as suggestions for what to do when you feel  especially kindly toward the government.

 Up!  We're in the land of Roman ruins!  Look at that.  The town hall, I think.

A lighthouse on a busy quay, built on a foundation made by Romans.  Apparently you find evidence of Roman civilization here every time you stub your toe, or plant a flower.

 Walid and Mohammed pull over in front of a favorite fish place... (on our side of the street).

We have delicious swordfish!

Good to catch up.  We take a walk down by the water.  

We are astonished to see the waters so clear.  This is a bay, not a little inlet.  Look at the man walking down there.

 Mohammed pulls over so we can see the remnants of a Queen's palace -- one of the daughters of Cleopatra.  I put my camera through the window grate to take this picture.  The guard comes out and stops me.  He'll take us on a tour (pay here0 but no photos.  Phooey!

But Rock and Walid and I are shown around -- and it's marvelously wild and raw -- the mosaic floors, especially, the walls, the chambers, the deep levels where rooms were naturally air conditioned.  He pointed out her three bathing pools, one with heated water, one with tepid, one with cold. It's far more extensive than it appears from the road.

 A Roman arch in the middle of the town.

An intriguing remnant of a circus.  Walid and I wondered if it were lions or  gladiators who came out of that door in the wall to the upper right.

 In the car again, on to see the museum in town.  We follow Mohammed up one narrow street after another.

 past other Roman sites to the city museum, undergoing renovation.

But no photos in the museum, which has a fine collection of statues and items from the Roman era.  And yes, we can take pictures of the sign.  The one at the left shows how the local royalty relates to Cleopatra.

  

 Way over there on the other edge of the shore is the town of  Tipasa.
It's known for it's monument to the martyrs.  That's where we head next.

A famous Algerian momument to record the names of those who died in the conflict to free Algeria.

  Look at the lists of names, and know that it wraps around the whole large figure.  I asked if any in Djelloul's family were listed.  "No" he said, "It's just for this area." The war affected every family.  Every family has a story.

We stop for tea in one of the shops along an esplanade.  This one is built right up against a Roman ruin. 

Around the bend from the tea shop, a dad was playing with his little girl, and stepped aside to have me take this picture.
Lots of motorcycles, all about this size.

 So we went on to the next Roman ruin, much more vast and public.  Again, no photos, so I took this inside a tomb. You have to imagine the place alive.  It took no imagination to wonder why the place was built here with the spellbinding view of the sea, the fresh air and gardens,

We persuaded Djelloul to join us.  Historic sites are not his thing.  But this he did enjoy.

Rock, being there.

Mohammed.  He was stationed in many cities during his tours of duty.  

 I insist we head back through the woodlands.  It's magical.

We're happy with this, though there's clearly more to see.

 Some shops passed on the way back to the car.

Before they had described how a certain buttermilk was made by pouring it into the skin of a goat -- like this one, and shaking it until the  consistency changed.

Another view of the sea.

 This place is high on a hill somewhere between Tipasa and Algiers.  It was built as a mausoleum for a queen by her husband.  It was on the grounds of their country home, which they both loved dearly as it had wide views of both thesea and the land that they ruled.

 Walid said that it's rumored that this opening leads to tunnels into the city and shore where fighters had hid during the war.  One can only imagine what it looked like.  Perhaps covered with marble.

Way up at the top you'll see a teen-ager. It would be an irresistable challenge for anyone agile and strong enough to try, as the huge blocks form steps all the way up.

 We have our picture taken with the view of the vast countryside.  We explore some more -- then I notice the scene below.

 Camel rides offered to tourists.

 I wonder if he knew the magic he gave to the scene.

 I'm called back.  Time to drive on.  People are waiting for us.

 I take some quick shots of others there.  I'll send the images on to an address the English speaking friend gave me, there in the trench coat.

We follow Mohammed's car to a famous shore line.

 We park, and get out to walk the shore.

 Up onto the board walk, made of cement.

 The scene from above of fishermen and the shore lights.

 Then back in the car.  We're hungry.  "We go to a famous place for kebabs.  We love our kebobs."

The smoke pours, pours out of every chimney along this row of restaurants, and the cars are packed in tight.  Mobs of people are there, if you could see them through the smoke of the grills.  It reminded me of city parks in Chicago on the 4th of July.

 We go into Mohammed's favorite place and are soon served a sumptious grilled feast, starting with salad and warm homemade bread, straight from the oven.

 And kabobs of beef, chicken, lamb, liver and sausage straight from the grill.  Stacks of them.

 We're all hungry.  At the end we count the skewers.  Djelloul wins with 12.  I lose with 4 . . .

 And a half.

 Fortunately we're inside in the back.  This is the front part of the place where they do the grilling.

Now off to Algiers, and plans to meet in the morning for a tour of the city.  Many thanks for the day, and till tomorrow.