adventure · Journal · poem

​Algerian Holidays: Algiers = La plage

​Algerian Holidays: Algiers = La plage (The Beach)

 

The Algerian beach-season may start in June; however, these years Ramadan overwrites this date till July. Although, there are many people who take a bath in the Holy month – being careful not to drink or doing it in the evening. Then in the ordinary caes – during the hot months, everybody in the Algerian capital is found on one of the wild coasts. In fact, all Algerian shores are swimable and free except of paying the parking or treats like “Benyi-Algerian Donut”, Mhajeb or Saharan tea. So, big families go there day to day with their parasols, cooler boxes and towels to bounce on the waves, to swim or just to have a sunbath.

 

This year, I visited the sea in August due to Ramadan and the one-month Hungarian trip. For the first time, I invited two cousins of mine who enjoyed so much the time on our beach that is situated only 10 minutes far from us. Our beach is called “Kadous” that may be funny since it means “toilet seat”… however, this telling name is sometimes very sad since sometimes the dirty waste water and the trash bags get into the water. This is the dark face of Algeria.


Otherwise, our shore is very enjoyable. In fact, it is free and natural. The safeguards there are our neighbours and friends, so such things as surfboards and flippers are free for us while the inhabitants of the other villages and cities must pay for everything including the transport and its waiting time or the camping. Also, the security is quite good against the thieves and other dirts visiting the shore.

So, we visited the beach twice in this week that already showed us its two faces. In the “Old Man and the Sea” Hemingway described the sea as a woman, “el mar” who is moody and temperamental as women themselves. While on Tuesday she was a calm baby, on thursday she became windy-wavy. Nevertheless, the real sons of the beach can use the sea in any of her mood; yesterday we were jumping on the waves and relaxing on the beach.

 

 


Also, I got some relaxing time yesterday to write a strange poem:

Wavery writing

I grab the pen,

In the sand.

On the beach.


As all the pens,

It depends,

How it ends.


The words just land,

In my hand,

Through the waves.


They try to mend,

My heart’s wound,

By their sound.


It madly sends,

Crazy bends,

Waves and graves.


The murmurs end,

When the wind,

Ends its trend.


The waves are grand,

Once God’s grant,

Then graves (a)gain.


My skin is brand,

I’m well tanned,

Though unplanned.


The pain must end,

What I planned,

Wave Goodbye.


The thoughts are banned,

It’s the end,

I can’t stand.


I drop the pen,

In the sand,

On the beach.

 

Benyamin Bensalah

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