You reach Sidi Mansour by following the coast road past where the apartment towers surrender to agricultural plots and the occasional small villa. The beach itself sits in a natural indent, sheltered enough that the water stays calmer than the exposed strands to the east. Fishermen pull their boats directly onto the sand here, painting them in the shade of tamarisk trees that cling to the low embankment. The scene has a workmanlike quality—this beach still earns its keep beyond recreation.
“Sidi Mansour retains its working-beach identity, where tourism and tradition share the sand without either dominating completely.”
Credit: UnsplashCrashing wave at sunset on the shoreline
The sand is coarser than Benabdelmalek Ramdane, studded with small shells and the occasional tangle of dried seaweed. But it's cleaner than the urban beaches, and far less trampled. Families who make the trip out here tend to settle in for the day, bringing elaborate picnics and claiming spots near the natural windbreaks formed by beached boats and driftwood. The swimming is good—deeper water arrives more quickly here, and the bottom stays mostly clear of rocks if you enter near the center of the cove.
Afternoons carry a particular stillness. The fishermen sleep in the shade. Children's voices echo across the water. Occasionally a local will appear with fresh catch—sardines, red mullet—offering them straight from plastic buckets to anyone interested. The whole place operates on a slower frequency than the beaches closer to Mostaganem's center, content to host those who specifically seek it rather than those who simply stumble upon it.
