Algiers

Algiers is the whitest of the Mediterranean's capitals and the most theatrically arranged: the Casbah — a UNESCO citadel of stacked white houses — cascades down its hill to the bay like spilled sugar, the French center below answers with Haussmann balconies in African light, and the Martyrs' Memorial holds three concrete palm leaves over it all, sheltering the memory of a hard-won independence. The bay curls around everything like an amphitheater that knows the show is good.

The sensible traveller takes the Casbah with a local guide — for orientation, for respect, and for the doors that open to guides and not to maps —; walks the arcades of the center from the Grande Poste's neo-Moorish confidence to the botanical garden's giant ficus; rides up to Notre-Dame d'Afrique for the whole white cascade at once; and gives the evening to the seafront, where families promenade and the fishing port fries the day's catch meters from the boats.

The Guide's honesty: the visa asks real homework — invitations, patience, and a plan: start early and the door opens —; the Casbah is a living neighborhood in slow restoration: photograph people only by invitation, and mind your step on the worn stairs; French unlocks much and Darija unlocks smiles; and Algiers is walked uphill both ways — wear the honest shoes, and let the bay views pay the climbs.