Thurs Jan 10

I woke up this morning feeling funny and very nervously checked the time. It was ten to eight. I was safe. Inspired by my impressions from the night before, I decided to go for a run. I went down a ramp to the waterfront and went along. It was quick, 20 minutes out, 20 back. It felt really good to be out with, but the hills were steep and I haven't run for a while, so it was good a stopped when I did. My throat wasn't happy with the exertion. Too much crowding of lymph nodes and phlegm and air rushing up and down. In retrospect though I feel a little better now. Maybe running helped clear things out. By the time I got back, breakfast was done here, so I went right out. Since this hotel only takes cash, I had to go get more at the bank. Knowing more or less what I was doing this time, it didn't take very long. There was a crowd at the bank, but no babies got punched. I just muscled my way through and held my position. Apparently I looked mean enough that no one tried to sneak in front of me.

From more reliable sources this time, I had an address for Camus in Oran as well. I checked it out, and it was a pretty nondescript apartment building on a semi-main street. I took some pictures for posterity. I got a pain au chocolat and a bottle of water for breakfast and headed back towards the main square. I looked around, and my guidebook said that the town hall was open, so I went in to check things out. I was initially stopped by some guards, but then I talked to them for a little while and one ended up giving me a tour. At the top of the marble staircase, we could hear the mayor in a meeting with some councilmen. It was a pretty cool open building. There were even some pigeons inside, which contributed to the atmosphere, but upon further consideration is pretty nasty. There was a scale model of the center of town, so I asked the guard some questions. I found out the sky-tram to the top of the mountain had recently reopened, so I decided to go there next. It was a little bit of an adventure to get to the tram, going through non-orthogonal streets and up broken stairs through the shibby side of town. There was a one eyed cat perched on a throne of garbage. Generally, the cats here are sicker looking than in Algiers.

On the way up the mountain, I saw some packs of dogs running without owners. They might have just been herding and I couldn't see, but still, packs of dogs! I explored the top of the mountain, walked down and back up to another peak where there was an old fort (sadly under renovation) and some sort of Christian installation. It was a little square surrounded by arcades, with a tower on one end topped with a statue, and on the other side a dome with a cross on top. The view of the city was impressive, though since it was hazy I'm sure the pictures aren't anything special.

The misuse of English is as funny in Algeria as anywhere. There are many variations on the theme. There is the direct bootleg with small grammatical mistake or spelling error. For example, a jacket with a crudely rendered Lowe's logo that read 'Love's'. There's the unfortunate random English text, like the sweatshirt with a stylized lion and the text 'congenital defect sport gear' in script below. Then there's the English in an effort to look high class, which inevitable fails since, when a hotel advertises 'modern conforts/runing water/baths, douches', it's more likely to inspire laughter and inner cringing than respect. I appreciate how, in all cases, unintentional meaning is added. Lastly, in overheard conversation, I often hear 'oh my god!' as a throwaway exclamation. It's not exactly misused, but pretty funny in the context of a conversation that otherwise stretches out in Arabic in either direction.

After dropping by the hotel, I went in search of food. I stopped at 'l'épi d'or' (the golden ear!) and ate a sandwich and slice of pizza, which set me back 125DA. Near the main square I'd seen a sign for a supermarket, and being as I have yet to see a supermarket in Algeria yet (it's like the ultimate anti-wal-mart country [or an example of where we'd be without wal-mart…]), I went to check it out. It was a European style supermarket. Five floors, only one of food, then clothes, housewares, paper products, &c. I bought a booby prize gift for Thomas and some other things so that the guards (yes, there too!) wouldn't give me trouble for trying to walk out without going through checkout. I walked down a side street to try and get a good view of the citadel, but the route ended up dead ending, leaving me in a crowd of cats. There was a nice view of perhaps the biggest construction in town, a structurally complete poured concrete building that towers over the seafront, but is in absolutely no other way complete. I considered sneaking through the gate and climbing the stairs for a view, but decided that I wasn't really in the mood to die or get arrested.

Here's the thing. Oran smells bad. Not just like 'Oh, that's cute. We're not in America.' bad smelling either. It'd distinctly stronger than Algiers, Shanghai, anywhere. I was hit in the face with the smell the first I went out this morning. It was like none of the cars had air filters and all of them were burning diesel. I thought it might get better once I got out of the city, but then it was just heavier vehicles and suffocating. The strange thing is that the smell is apparently thicker than not, cause it was still there even when there were no cars directly around. As I was walking through the shibby side of town, the car smell was trumped by the smell of garbage and rotting biomass. On top of the mountain the air was fresh. I drank it in. Once back in the soup, at some point I started smelling something distinctly fecal. I got back to my hotel room and the smell was still there. I guess it doesn't help when you step in it.

I ran out of the bottled water that I brought from Algiers today. There's no alimentation right by my hotel, so, feeling rebellious, I just filled by old bottles up at the tap. I'm a little skeptical of clean water issues in cities with modern plumbing, and I certainly survived my bout with a liter of tap water in Hangzhou. I figure worst case I'll end up with an intestinal parasite and best case I'll end up with more diverse bacterial culture in my bowels. For the moment, it's just convenient.

Once again, I'm so deep into the strangeness of being here that I almost forget to mention some priceless moments. At l'épi d'or there was a tv playing a german cop show or movie dubbed in French, starring a german shepherd whose Lassie-like instincts saved the day in wacky and unexpected ways (Come on! What novelty! A dog! Who fights crime!). Later, there was an Arabic language soap opera with much wailing and dramatic glaring. I had no idea what was going on, but bad acting knows no language barrier. Someone changed the channel again to a Spanish league soccer game. It was in the 85th minute and Seville was up 3-0, so nothing exciting. I haven't been watching TV in my room, but I figure that that was as good a sampling as any. Bonus question: how many TV stations are there in France, thus, via satellite, in Algeria? (I'll give you a hint: Six!)

Also in l'épi d'or, at one point a pair on men came in, both bald but one about a foot taller than the other. They were wearing matching striped sweaters. My only other adventure from last night was checking out the French cultural association, since I'd read they show movies there on Thursday night. The film was "Le Père Noël Est un Ordure" (Santa Claus is Garbage), which sounded interesting enough. It had started a couple hours before I arrived, though, so no dice.

When I got back to the hotel, I consulted the guy at the desk about the train schedules and he didn't really know. Just then, a woman came up and asked to get a cab to catch the 3:30 train, which answered my question. She asked if I wanted to share a cab, and I said I'd rather walk. I was surprised at how threatened I felt by having someone try and put something in my schedule. Operating on my own time is one of the advantages of traveling alone, and the last thing I wanted was the responsibility of being somewhere at a certain time that might not be convenient. I had a bit of trouble explaining, but generally got the point across (ma reponse: "euh…non"). In the morning, I ran into her at breakfast and we talked a little bit. She's with the army, working for the equivalent of the FBI. We agreed to make our own ways to the train station, but she insisted on dropping me off at my hotel in Algiers. I'm looking forward to asking her about some of the subtle cultural points I've noticed. It might make for an interesting train ride.