Mar 25, 2002 07:49 PM
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(Updated Mar 25, 2002 07:53 PM)
I landed in Houari Boudamine Intl Airport, Algiers on a cold morning in January. The airport was teeming with algerian militia, armed to the teeth with Ak47s and UZIs, dressed in their black military fatigues. I stepped out of the airport into the chillywind and boarded the hotel shuttle bus that had come to pick me up. Algiers, the capital of Algeria, is in the north on the mediterranean coast. Beautiful, lush green, wide and well kept roads but deserted, I surmised as we sped to the hotel. Downtown is on a hill overlooking the deep-blue mediterranean sea and is picture-post card perfect! Old buildings, reminiscent of the by-gone french occupation (till 1968) stand cheek-by-jowl with modern buildings. The people are friendly and, yes ,believe me, love Indians! Raj Kapoor and Amitabh still hold algerian television audiences to a trance every thursday evenings! That evening, I stepped into a smoke-filled pub downtown and met quite a few pretty algerian girls (most of them are of some french mix!!) and look great, long legs, sharp features, gorgeous hair and a penchant for dark-skinned indians (yummy yummy indeed!)
The country has been ravaged by an internal civil war, (details of which I will not bore you with) so as far as tourists are concerned, it unfortunately remains a strict no-no.
Constantine, Oran are other places on the coast and are supposedly pretty and happening too.
A few days later, I travelled to Hassi Messaoud, a small town about 1500 kms to the south of algiers. It is on the border of the biggest desert in the world, no prizes for guessing, The Mighty Sahara! American tourists prefer to fly directly to Hassi (there are direct flights to London and Paris) as the violence and the civil war is fought only along the coast in the north. These tourists then hire a convoy of vehicles (Toyota Land Cruisers, whatelse!) and head to the desert on expeditions. To head into the desert, you need a desert permit. To get a permit you need to go to the local governmental office and register. To register, you need to speak to them in arabic or french!! un fortunately, with very little knowledge of both, I could have been in a muddle there, but my colleague from the local office - a pleasant natured guy called Mahmud Seek helped me with the formalities.
Hassi is a small town where time has literally stood still. Old buildings, laidback lifestyle, not much of money around, a refinery built in the 1960s by the French and lots of sandstorms frequently, a grim reminder of what is in store ahead!
The currency in Algeria is the Algerian Dinar which currently fetches 75 to a dollar and keeps dipping by the day. Cuisine is predominantly continental and is strongly influenced by, yes, the french.
I boarded a 12 seater biplane the next morning (im on business here!!) and headed out to the desert.
2 hours, a few bumps on the head and staring blankly at the pilot-manipulate-the-controls later, (mind you, no airhostesses here!) our chartered plane landed in the middle of no-where, a small oil field that was to be my home for the next 30 days!
The sahara beats you by sheer size. Miles and miles of golden sand all around and a deep blue and clear sky ( no clouds here as it is almost the heart of africa and miles away from the coast). The desert isnt flat either. It is filled with innumerable sand dunes that keep shifting gradually and hence the desert cannot be mapped. Locals who drove big trucks to our camps with supplies from Hassi, Iam told, do so by sheer intuition! no GPS, satellite tracking here!
There is one peculiar phenomenon here - the wind, blowing over rocks over the years, etches them (with the sand) to beautiful shapes - like a bouquet of roses!amazing indeed, but true! it is called the rose of the sahara and all etched shapes on rocks are exactly like roses! I collected a heavy piece of this rose bouquet for my wife.
30 days later, it was time to head home. The locals embraced me, shook hands, cried over my shoulder and it was time to head back. We waited on the desert sand track as the drone of the biplane came from nowhere and it landed smoothly as 8 of us got in.
At Algiers airport, over a cup of coffee, I saw a guy walking in with a Indian diplomatic passport in his hand. The moment he saw me, he rushed over and shook hands and was terribly excited on seeing an Indian there! ''There are only 42 Indians here in Algeria'' he said, next time you come please pass by the Consulate, we will be happy to meet you and help you.''
I retorted ''Are there good tourist spots out here?''
He eyed me suspiciously.
''Have you seen Algiers?''
''Yes''
''Sahara?''
''Yes, I worked there''
''You have seen everything my friend''
I boarded Air Algerie with my handbaggage, small but with large and enduring memories of a loving people, sunshine, sand ( a lot in fact!), a land called Algeria.
Yes, I have seen everything my friend.
