Sat Jan 12

In approaching days in many different ways I've gotten as many different views on Algeria. It really wasn't intentional, I mostly just didn't go on a crazy wandering everyday because it would have been exhausting and anyways, there are so many more things to see. Today I was tired and mostly out of places to go—I just had things to wrap up—and I would normally be embarrassed to admit that I stayed within a block and a half of my hotel, but it ended up working out.

I ate lunch at the sandwich shop across from the university, where I'd been before and experienced mostly low quality meat and disappointing if passable sandwiches. I discovered in Oran (l'épi d'or!) that the Algerian preparation of ground beef is exceptional, so I thought I'd try it out in Algiers too. I ordered their special, which is ground beef (They just call it ground meat, no pork served here!), fried egg, white cheese and fries all thrown together on the grill, then topped with lettuce, tomato, spicy sauce and mayonnaise. It was delicious—perhaps the best taste I've experienced here so far. I was sitting in a park enjoying my sandwich when I discovered the secret of Algerian street crossing. It was kind of a sewing machine moment, where everything became very obvious at once. I was watching traffic and wondering if I’d be able to apply my new found street navigation skills in Lancaster when it occurred to me that the cars were only going about ten or fifteen miles per hour. The perpetual traffic and lack of regulation at intersections ensures that no one gets up any kind of speed, so it's workable to wend your way through a moving intersection. I'll be interested to see if I'm surprised at first at the pace of traffic at home.

I came back to the hotel, and since the maids were still in my room (though not literally, my bed just didn't have any sheets on it), I sat down in the lobby and read. I only got a little ways in my book, though, cause some men came and started working on the elevator, which was much more fascinating. It's one of those elevators where the door's only on the outside, so when you're on the inside, three walls are moving with you and one is sliding by on the side. They send the cabin up, unlocked the door manually and hopped down into the shaft. The door to the service room next to the elevator was open as well, so I poked my head in to look at all the machinery. I hadn't been aware of any mechanical troubles with the elevator, except that it makes a pretty nasty noise when slowing down on the approach to the bottom floor. It could have been routine maintenance. In any case the noise is still there.

I was thinking of how, depending on how you look at it, studying a culture through its music is increasingly worthless. Worldwide, music is more and more and industry than an art. Anywhere I've ever been, there's been Justin Timberlake and Eminem playing, and the locals singing along.

Apparently I'm really running out of steam. I did want to add that there are police Vespas here. It's a nice variation on the motorcycle cop/bike cop/mounted police/segway cop theme. I'd love to see policemen on skateboards, or mopeds or something, though. Maybe next trip.