Tunis to Tataouine, Tunisia

Despite the distance and the historical ties, there doesn’t seem to be much connection between Tunisia and Malta, let alone Sicily. What seems like a logical next stop feels instead like a world away, involving a very short but incredibly expensive flight.

It’s been a very long time since I’ve been in North Africa — a trip to Morocco in 2012 was the last, which left me with decidedly mixed feelings and a hesitation to return. Tunisia seems somewhat similar on the surface: same language (well, the Arabic dialect is different, but everyone speaks French too), religion, cuisine, climate, even some geography. But even on first impression, things diverge from those similarities quickly.

Unlike the hassle-filled but beautifully ochre Marrakech medina, the one in Tunis, built in the 7th century, is expansive, largely residential, and surprisingly friendly and free of any pressure. Full of locals and a surprisingly large amount of tourists alike, I found enjoyment in simply wandering around, idly shopping, sampling sweets, and stopping in some beautiful hidden spots for a drink or snack, even if I didn’t exactly find anything else I wanted to buy. In fact, this was the case in every medina and souk I saw across the country, though the others simply paled in comparison and began to feel samey. They were all lovely to soak in the atmosphere for an afternoon or two. Speaking of soaking, I even got to indulge in a morning at a nondescript neighbourhood hammam, decades if not over a hundred years old, that turned out to have a beautiful blue dome inside — a much gentler massage here than what I remember in the past, but the same refreshing waterboarding… If you can imagine that!

Like Malta and Sicily though, Tunisia is full of historical ruins, left to the elements to a much larger extent. In Tunis, the former city of Carthage is just next to the bleach-white-and-blue posh seaside neighbourhood of Sidi Bou Said (a pretty spot that’s sadly just mobbed by bus tours nowadays). Established by the Phoenicians around 900 BC, growing into one of the richest cities in the world until its fall to the Romans in the 100s BC who built their own city on top of the original, Carthage is utterly sprawling, and the ruins of the baths, amphitheatre, and villa are still spectacular even if not very in-tact. With no crowds and no barriers, walking around felt surprisingly casual yet visceral, but perhaps also a reason for its disrepair.

The same can be said (minus the disrepair) for the Amphitheatre of El Jem, about three hours south by louage, the local form of long-distance transport. Imagine the Colosseum in Rome, and how large it is. Now imagine a slightly smaller version but with no people. Yeah. What a treasure. Wandering into the former animal pens and the arena, it’s hard not to think about how much bloodshed happened for entertainment.

Like Sicily, both Tunis and El Jem have large collections of Roman mosaics — and the size and almost immaculately-preserved state of them, especially at Tunis’s Bardo Museum, are truly jaw-dropping. While that may be the main draw of the Bardo, the rooms of the building itself (an ornate palace with a mosque), the many Greek statues and reliefs, and relics from all sorts of civilisations I’ve never even heard of made for one of the most impressive museums I’ve ever visited.

It’s all the more sobering to realise that this beautiful preserve of history was the site of a Daesh attack only 10 years ago, with tourists like me taken hostage and killed. Not long after, another attack in a resort complex north of Sousse, a large city where I also stayed, suffered a similar attack. All of this came in the wake of the Arab Spring, which started in Tunisia as a revolution against corruption and a dictator, spreading across the Middle East. While things may have fizzled out in other countries, for Tunisia, it eventually led to a general political and religious liberalisation of the country that remains today, despite the now-extinguished resistance it met from Daesh and other extremist Islamist groups at the time.

It’s something I asked about at the very laidback hostel I stayed at in Djerba, an island in the south of the country (eight hours from Sousse) and also usually a European tourist resort destination. The owners, three local surfers in their early 20s, had their friends over on most nights, a mixed-gender crowd across the religious spectrum, and we spent some time cooking a late-night feast together while some others drank (yes, in a Muslim country), smoked like chimneys, and danced. They remember the “before-times” and upon some reflection, are happy with their expanded freedom of speech. Perhaps it’s something taken a little for granted now that so much time has passed. But unemployment and inflation seem unchanged — a top-of-mind issue for them as recent university graduates — and at least one wondered if their nascent democracy is just a new veil for the true power brokers, whoever that might be. Some of them are also chasing potential opportunities in Europe.

Laidback is the general vibe in Djerba, a place with a more Berber history and flair than the more Arab north. While I didn’t have time to visit much around the island beyond Houmt Souk or even a beach, the area of Djerbahood which I stayed in seemed like a lovely modern artist haven, with artisans taking inspiration from traditional pottery and painting and adding their own touch. But most flashy of all are the hundreds of murals, commissioned from local and international artists, covering walls and doors of traditional houses around the neighbourhood.

Wanting to see more of the Berber side of Tunisia, with just eight days and no affordable automatic transmission cars to rent, I was in the awkward zone between having too much time for just visiting the north, and too little time for heading deeper south. In fact, Djerba itself wasn’t the goal, but a means to an end — as one of Tunisia’s few centers of tourism, I joined a day tour departing from there to visit some traditional Berber villages that I would have otherwise needed to drive to.

Well, that was the intent. What ended up happening was being absorbed into a much larger day tour group going to places I didn’t ask for, a whole 12 hour day driving through desert landscapes interspersed with olive groves, waiting for people to finish their camel rides and swims at the touristy sand dunes and “oasis”… and inexplicably, a mere fleeting 45 minutes of the highlights I was looking for: troglodyte homes!

Not far from Tataouine (a large city which we sadly did not stop in, despite what I had booked), Ksar Guermessa is one of several abandoned hilltop villages, established by Berbers fleeing the plains for higher ground from the invading Arabs from Yemen, who began arriving in the 700s and established the dominant cultural identity of North Africa that persists now. These traditional Berber homes are carved in as caves (hence “troglodyte”) or built up with mud and brick, but roughly 90% of hilltop residents have since moved back down to the plains, owing to lack of infrastructure, healthcare, schooling, and general social services.

Ksar Hadada, on the other hand, contains a ghorfa, a notably large granary (grain storage) that is now a kitschy hotel. Does this look familiar? Do these names sound familiar?

Yeah. So I’ve never watched a Star War until a few days before leaving Vancouver for this trip. But many of the films were filmed in Tunisia, with the ksars serving as backdrops and the names used as inspiration. Star Wars visits form a large part of Tunisia’s tourism sector, and memorabilia is proudly displayed at the filming locations. As someone with no sentimental attachment to the series, the architecture still gives off a pretty alien slave quarter vibe that made the lengthy detour… almost worth it, I guess.

It would definitely have been nice to have had more time exploring the area and visiting more ksars, or heading northwest into the salt flats and oases near Tozeur, but I had already covered so much distance in a short period of time. Perhaps too much: being constantly on the road, I found myself lamenting the general lack of interaction I had. The main activity I found to join locals — almost overwhelmingly men in this case — was just to kill time sitting at tea shops, everyone facing the street and watching life go by over a cup of deliciously sugary mint tea. Even at night, wandering the pleasantly manicured French-built boulevard in Tunis with its oddly square trees, all I knew to do was just to get more tea or some freshly squeezed orange juice.

There’s definitely a lot more going on than what I got to touch on: I think immediately of the music scene (Arabic funk in particular seems to be having a resurgent moment) as an example. Without any connections, any idea of where to start, and little remaining time, I didn’t get to delve in deep at all on the more contemporary side of the country. There’s also all the seaside neighbourhoods and resort towns like La Marsa or Hammamet that locals enjoy visiting to relax, and that’s just something I never really got to do. Despite the poor planning on my part, I’m happy with what I got out of it, in a country that took awhile to reveal its charms. I’ll take it as a lesson for whenever I may pass through the area again.