Santa Cruz, Oran

Mohammed and his wife have to work, and it's a school day for Faras, so Walid eagerly picks us up for our adventure to Santa Cruz, the mighty ancient Spanish fortress overlooking Oran, visible from everywhere. Our friend from dinner, Mohammed's nephew,  Abdemrahmane, who lives in Boston and works as a translator comes along.  He kindly wants to include a friend who's visiting from Germany, but there's enormous traffic jams and street-closings around the university where he's staying, due to a major international bike race today -- so despite all of Walid's efforts to get around the traffic --down side streets, through parking lots, up sidewalks,  -- we have to give up and go on our own.  

It's wonderful to be with these young men.  They love the adventure, the history, the opportunity to learn more and share it with us.

A note about Mohammed's family.  We've already experienced the overflowing hospitality of beautifully prepared and presented meals, warm and comfy beds when we need them, and eager company.  But it's hard to describe the generosity of a whole family who gives their time, even from work, the enthusiasm of their care, Mohammed's lovely gifts from different sites handed to us quickly before the next stop.  This was not taking your visiting relatives on a ride on the Staten Island Ferry --this was hours and hours of driving to show us incredible sites, and long walks to just the perfect restaurant where there was never a question as to who would pay the tab. It was their joy. But more than this, it was experiencing a family strong and supportive, delighting in each other, in the family stories, the family photos, the family accomplishments. Mohammed and his wife have raised young men strong in faith, who take their role in life seriously and with burning curiosity about the world and a desire to help it. Every moment with them was a joy.  Even when driving.

 It's an uphill climb, of course.

Thank you guard-rails.

and fences

Counter-intuitively we turn right at a junction when the fort looms up to our left, (as in Massachusetts there are few direction signs). We pull over in a small parking area between this church below and the fort above. The parking attendant points the way down the steps to the church and the dirt path up to the fort.  The church first.

The walk in the colonade of the church.

We walk around a bit and find the doors to the church closed. Abdemrahmane and Walid find a helpful guard with keys, so we're soon inside.

The church has a lovely silhouette on the hillside, but it was clearly not old, and not built in prosperous times, with painted, not stained glass windows and glass blocks in window areas.  We learned later that this addition came in the 1940's.  But it's alive with little details showing it's used and loved by a very small congregation.  Walid tells us there are several active Christian churches in the city and in Algiers.

This beautiful painting was in a high balcony. The artist placed the Christian scene in the Algerian landscape, with mourners of many races.  Racism is not an issue in Algeria, and you feel it -- no tension. We were told that a passage in the Koran tells a story of everyone's worth, and the story is often repeated, and the people live it.

This tower of the original church was built in the 1870's out of gratitude for answered prayers after an epidemic.  The city is now restoring it, and its image of Mary blessing the city.  Mary is also honored by all Muslims.

Time to start the climb to the fort.

Up and up and up.

And up.

Waiting tankers in the Mediterrenean.

With pauses at the view.

 It looms above us like the prow of a mighty ship.

The gate is open and we wander in.

The walkway is over a mote, and at one point would have  been made of wood and lifted up to fend off attackers.

 The only one guarding the fort now.  We pay the fee and are free to explore.

 There are levels after levels, inside and out, courtyards above courtyards, and vast interiors which seem to me to have room enough for a calvary and their horses. Apparently it housed the Spanish governor.  Not exactly a cozy nest.

 Walid finds a signature from a 1928 French officer (or company?)   The French occupied this place then, following the Spanish, who deserted the place after a storm.  They came in after the Ottomomans.

Walid explains that a new port will soon be ready for ships.

I love this view, looking back.  No where to run, nowhere to hide if you're invading by sea, at least.

 We're up on a high terrace. We hear voices, Two women come out of a doorway.  We talk with them, and learn that they were friends from France visiting Oran, one from the south, one from Paris.  It's a holiday in Algeria -- Women's Day -- where all women get half-day at work.  Walid and Abdemrahmane scorn it, the way many dismiss Valentine's Day. "If I love someone I love someone 24-7, -- I don't need a holiday to remind me."  It's history goes back to the turn of the 20th century after the shirt-waist factory fire -- when women struck for better hours.  So I wish the two women a happy Women's Day and the three of us pose to stand up for strong women, whatever the day.

Turns out that they'd been enjoying a tour by this guide.  Having finished his time with them, he turns to us to answer questions and explain some features. He's the one who tells us the history of the holiday, the use of the mote, and the ages of the church buildings.  He spoke in Algerian (Arabic/French) and the guys translated.  But I was entranced with the images of the place.

The original stairs.  

Making a spiral stairway of marble up a few stories with no handrails.  Ok.  It's a plan.

 There are actually three forts in the city, all connected with tunnels.  The Spanish held this place for 300 years.  He points out the other forts, surrounding a much smaller city.  He also shows the area of the town where the Jews lived.  They were invited to come at a time of economic crisis, when the city was in dire need of their expertise in financial affairs, and lived there for generations.

 And down we go.  He wants to point out the water system, where hundreds of gallons are stored within the fortress.  he picks up a pebble . . .

 and it ker-plunks with a splash down this well in a chamber.

 The arches and vaults -- and I think about how the Roman building techniques became all the rage, and the amazing skill of the designers and craftspeople then.

At the prow of the fort, where the Algerian flag proudly waves.  An inevitable photo op.
Algeria's next generation.

 And yet we haven't reached the top.  We climb to the roof/ terrace at the highest station

with a dizzying view. What invader had a chance?
We thank our guide, and head back to the car.

 Abdemrahmane and infinity. . .

This plant grows everywhere. The stalks are taller than I am.

A little tender decor along the path.

Walid points out the ancient walls.  Now they surround a community of immigrants who have fled warfare in other regions.

 We have to meet Walid's dad, Mohammed and Djelloul for lunch at one of the famous seafood places in town. It was going to be next to the original fort, and Walid hoped desperately that we'd all be able to see it,

 We meet Mohammed and Djelloul, Find people to watch the cars.  This way!

 We pass this shop.  A fisherman's got to have something to fish with, right?

 A waiting kitty in front of the restaurant.  What better place for her than in front of a seafood place?  We'd give her our leftovers afterwards, which she nibbled appreciatively along with her kitties.

all the little fishies in the deep blue sea.  Or at least some of them.

Not the most elegant tureen, but the poisson soup was delicious.

Freshest, most tender calamari.

and shrimp.

 Then it's back to the apartment, pick up our bags, and wish everyone farewell.

We'll meet Mohammed and Walid a few days later for a memorable time in Algiers among Roman ruins and bustling streets.  We send them our love and head to Tiaret for some rest -- and an amazing mountain to climb.