There are times that my trip to Algeria felt totally thrown together. Flights were booked there and back, the internal flight was pre-booked, but getting from place to place seemed to just happen because we ended up in the right place, people told us where to go and we had money to get around. To this day, I don’t feel I was ever ripped off in Algeria when travelling around the country, but I can’t say I was shown a price list in advance. Our exit from Timimoun to Ghardaia by coach was arranged by the hotel and they were 110% relaxed about sorting this out, to the extent that I wasn’t even 60% sure they knew if such a coach existed. The moment of truth arrived and a member of the hotel staff suddenly yells at us that our coach is outside and we have to leg it down the street to get on it. Relaxed.

I am struck that we twice needed a police escort in Timimoun but there was also no problem getting on a coach to another town. We settle in for lots of desert landscapes but the sand storm that had been turning the sky orange since the previous night reduced visibility. As we got further into the endless expanse of nothingness, I drifted in and out of sleep and got gently covered in sand from the open window. The road was not wide enough for the coach so we had a few hours of driving on rocks, which was even less comfortable than it sounds.

We pulled into a sort of Algerian Moto services for a bit and looking around at the less than salubrious surroundings, I dreaded the loo situation but needed it regardless. In one of those strange circumstances I often find myself in when abroad, the people at the toilet entrance who clearly collected money waved me through, not wanting one dinar. The toilet was clean as a whistle, so I luxuriated in my visit. There was real poverty in the service station; people praying not prayer mats but flattened cardboard, flies buzzing around rancid looking meat, bins that looked like they needed to be put in a bin.

We were headed for the town of Beni Isugen, in the M’Zab Valley. This part of Algeria interested us because it’s a UNESCO world heritage site due to the architecture of the towns, perfectly suited to the desert heat. I loved the buildings we saw as we got closer, which to me looked like little castles, with their crenellations and tiny windows to keep the searing heat out.

When we arrived in the town, we had to call our guide who would take us to his place. He arrived in an incredibly old car that had a plank of wood in it to stop something falling off and took us on a high-speed chase through town to a home that was equal parts castle and Tataouine dwelling. He told us to settle in and that he’d be back soon with food. My friend and I are pretty patient people but after two hours, we started to wonder a) where we were b) did we give our passports to the right guy and c) when is the food coming. But the castle was incredible, unlike anywhere I’d ever stayed before. Eventually our guide returned with the biggest amount of food I’d ever seen and later I slept fitfully as dogs howled outside while I lay on 10 mattresses.

The towns of the M’Zab valley are tourist destinations so when we visited the old town of Beni Isguen and Ghardaia, we needed guides to show us round and tell us the rules. A rule they were really keen on was not to photograph the women. They wear a white haik, which is a large cloth wrapped around the body and the women only have one eye visible at any one time. When I saw the women, their hand was clutching at the cloth so that they could see and keep everything in place. It’s such a fascinating set of towns, and incredibly picturesque.

Both Beni Isguen and Ghardaia were engrossing and it became clear that the structure of the towns followed a similar pattern. The buildings are tightly packed into a circular formation and at the centre is a mosque. The minaret is a watchtower. UNESCO estimate that these towns were built between 700 and 1000 years ago, with little changing in that time. I was so excited to be amongst all this history, but it all came crashing down when I first spotted some graffiti saying “hip-hop” and then heard a Samsung ringtone. So, it’s mostly an old way of living.

In Beni Isguen, we walked through a square that was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. We arrived at the time of day where the light struck against the walls in such a way that everything glowed, with the sky a shade of blue that even photoshop couldn’t improve.

In an unexpected turn of events, our guide told us we’d be popping by the celebrations of a wedding. It was split, so we never saw the bride or any women at all, but what struck me was the friendliness of everyone who acted as if two Brits turning up at the wedding was the most natural thing to occur. I loved seeing how the men fussed over kids and how efficient the serving of couscous, meat and veg was. Later, we went to a sort of after-party, where mint tea was served and I noticed that there was always enough for me and my friend – yet more friendliness from the hosts. They shot guns into the air and ground a couple of times, but I think I managed not to shriek and hurl my tea in the air.

After a wonderful couple of days in Ghardaia, we made our way to Bou Saada, which is perhaps the least interesting town in existence. It could be that we didn’t arrange for a guide to show us the town or there was just nothing to do, but really, Bou Saada was a pitstop on the way back to Algiers. Our hotel was amazing, with beautiful gardens and a pool but there’s only so many circuits of the garden you can do before madness kicks in. An art gallery provided some relief for an hour or so, but there’s really not much to say.

My friend told me recently that the reason we wanted to go to Algeria in the first place was because of Constantine, a city with incredible bridges going over a gorge. We never got to visit, but that only makes me more keen to go back to Algeria and explore even more of this fascinating country.