Algiers does not introduce itself gently.
You arrive, often from a hazy Mediterranean horizon, and the city rises in front of you like a bleached amphitheater: white apartment blocks, domes, and minarets stacked up the hills, tumbling toward a deep-blue coastline. This is not a polished, over-curated capital. It is a lived-in, layered, occasionally chaotic, and deeply compelling one.
Locally called Al Djazaïr — “The Islands” — Algiers was named after a cluster of small islands that once sat just offshore, long since absorbed into the modern harbor. The name is a reminder that this city has always been shaped by the sea: Phoenicians, Romans, Ottomans, pirates, French colonizers, and modern Algerians have all left their imprint here.
And yet, Algiers resists simple labels.
A city of terraces, stairways, and viewpoints
Unlike many capitals, Algiers is not flat, nor easy to grasp in one glance. You experience it in fragments: a sudden panorama from a hillside, a sliver of turquoise water between buildings, the sound of a muezzin echoing through a tight alley.
Walking through Algiers means climbing — literally and metaphorically — through history.
Nowhere is this clearer than in the Casbah, the UNESCO-listed old city that tumbles down toward the port. Its labyrinth of staircases and passageways feels less like a “sight” and more like a time capsule in slow decay. Ottoman palaces hide behind unassuming doors, tiles glimmer in forgotten courtyards, and laundry flutters above streets too narrow for cars.
The Casbah is not meant to be consumed quickly. It demands patience, respect, and ideally, a local guide who can help you read its layers: where private homes begin, where colonial scars remain, and where everyday life continues despite the peeling walls.
Between empire and independence
Algiers carries its history on its sleeve.
At the Grand Post Office, Moorish revival arches blend with French colonial grandeur — a visual symbol of Algeria’s complex past. Meanwhile, the Martyrs’ Memorial (Maqam Echahid) rises dramatically above the city, three towering concrete palms meeting in the sky, commemorating those who died in the War of Independence.
It is impossible to stand there at sunset — the city glowing beneath you, the sea darkening in the distance — and not feel the weight of history. Algiers is a place where memory is not buried; it is monumental.
Then there is Notre Dame d’Afrique, perched high above the Mediterranean. Part church, part lookout, part quiet witness to centuries of maritime stories. From here, you understand Algiers not just as a capital, but as a threshold between Africa and Europe, land and sea, past and present.
A slower kind of capital
Algiers is not a city of frantic sightseeing checklists.
Instead, its rhythm reveals itself in cafés where mint tea is poured with ceremony, in late-afternoon drives along the Corniche where cliffs plunge into the water, in the smell of grilled sardines drifting up from Bab El Oued.
Food here is grounded and soulful:
- Friday couscous, shared and ritualized.
- Chakchouka, rich with tomatoes, peppers, and spice.
- Crispy brik, golden and delicate.
- Strong coffee and endless glasses of sweet mint tea.
You don’t “do” Algiers — you sit with it.
Who is Algiers for?
Not for the hurried traveler.
Not for those who need everything to be easy.
Not for those who want a glossy postcard version of North Africa.
But if you are curious about cities that sit at crossroads — of empires, of seas, of identities — Algiers will stay with you long after you leave.
It is messy, majestic, contradictory, and unforgettable.
Maarten’s Note
Algiers feels, in many ways, like a city that has been slightly off the global travel map — not because it lacks beauty or history, but because it does not try to make itself digestible. I am drawn to places like this: capitals that are proud, complicated, and unapologetically themselves. Standing above the Casbah at sunset, watching the white city glow against the darkening Mediterranean, I was reminded that some places don’t need to impress you — they simply exist, powerfully, and you either meet them on their terms or you don’t.