Dougga and More of Tunis
24 May 2023 | Tunis Medina, Tunisia
Alison Gabel

"Welcome to Tunisia!"
I've heard "welcome!" more times in the last few weeks than I ever have in any other country I've visited. I can see it in the faces - the recognition that we're foreigners, sometimes a double-take, often followed by a smile and then, those words. The young man that sold Gloria and I fruit and vegetables and then explained the value of their coins using only hand gestures bid us farewell with those words. Yesterday, after we took a photo for a cheerful group of men, they said those words.
We loved our time here, and bid farewell to Tunisia with nothing but great memories. We're bound this morning for the island of Menorca, in the Balearic Islands off Spain.
But first, the final days in Tunisia:
We left Bizerte Friday morning in a beat-up rental car and drove a few hours to the ancient Roman city of Dougga. The drive was reminiscent of southern Italy, or central California - rolling hills with rich red dirt, endless groves of olive trees, shepherds in traditional garb with their goats and sheep, vineyards, small towns, expansive fields of wheat-looking stuff, and some cows. I thought Dougga was in the desert, but I was dead-wrong, the countryside was beautiful.
And Dougga! Wow! I just kept saying wow all day, and I couldn't stop smiling. So many beautiful examples of first-century life, so wonderfully preserved. Set high on a hilltop, overlooking what is now mostly olive groves, and judging by the ancient knobbiness of some of the trees, back then as well, Dougga wanders here and there in a non-grid layout that feels comfortable and friendly. So many of the homes were still evident, you could step inside the doorway, sometimes the entire doorway with steps leading up, a lintel and sides and carved indentations where you could exactly see how a bar of wood was used to lock the door. You could step inside and land on the remains of a detailed tile rug, like the restored ones we saw in El Djem but still there on the floor, as they had been for two thousand years, and in some cases, almost intact. You could see how the home was laid out, even down to carved marble wash basins. Pillars were still partially in place, some placed by restoration people, suggesting a possible layout, and some had just been there since they were first erected. The stone streets wandered among the homes and shops, down to the amphitheater, around to the cistern, up to the temple.
The temple was unbelievable. Huge, gorgeous. It was all gorgeous. I felt like a little kid who had just discovered it for the first time. It was a cool day, with light rain falling occasionally, the grey-blue sky a perfect backdrop for the green pines, ancient olive trees, and the white marble structures. We were practically the only people there. We were all in a state of almost meditative reverence.
"All built by slaves," Gloria reminded us, popping us back to ourselves so we didn't get too-starry-eyed about the beautiful lives we were imagining. History is so harsh. But reality bites, and this country is a juxtaposition of beauty and smiles, political uncertainty, economic woes, and the harsh realities of daily life.
The drive to Tunis was also beautiful, but as we neared Tunis the energy changed, with the large-city feel of widening roads, taller buildings, modern signage, cars. We drove in, in, into the city, right to it's very core in front of the ancient medina and the huge arch that led to the plaza. We chose to stay for two nights in the opulent Royal Victoria, the former British Embassy overlooking the plaza and surprisingly affordable. Michael pulled up in front of the plaza, and Allan and I jumped out to ask the hotel where we should park. We'd been assured by the hotel that "The hotel has a parking, you are welcome" so we sort of expected a parking garage or something, but instead the hotel clerk sent a waiter out who enthusiastically flagged Michael down in the waiting car, shooed pedestrians and taxis out of his way, and led him through the huge arch and into the actual square, pigeons flying and people skirting. He then directed Michael to back the little red beat-up car against the arch wall, facing the pineapple vendor, surrounded by tourists and shoppers and more pigeons, slipped a xerox'ed piece of paper with the hotel's logo onto the dash and ran back to continue his work in the restaurant. That was hotel parking. We were the only car. Over the next few days, as we peered out from our little balconies overlooking the plaza, we'd see people leaning against the front of it, resting, watching the scene, eating a gelato.
The former embassy was quite amazing, with lots of royal red velvet and finely hand-painted doors, walls, carpentry. The beds were hard as a rock and the pillows were worse, but we made some creative adaptations and were charmed by the nice hotel clerks, and loved being steps away from the huge medina and the ancient souks.
We spent the next two days wandering that part of town, enjoying the cool air, and eating good food. I can highly recommend a delicious restaurant in the medina for traditional Tunisian food, should you ever find yourselves hungry in downtown Tunis: Restaurant Dar Slah. ("dar" means "house" so a lot of restaurants start with that.) The staff and owner were attentive and friendly, with wonderful senses of humor, and spoke very good English. The meal was expansive and beautifully served, and they were responsive to my vegetarian requests.
The next morning we headed back to the marina in Bizerte, passing through more small towns on a busy market Sunday. We were amused and shocked and grossed-out by the hides and carcasses of cows and sheep that hung in front of the shops, and often, the entire cow's head, dripping into a bucket, almost an advertisement for the freshness of the meat. The vegetable and fruit markets were a tonic to the carnivorous gore, with piles of carrots, beets, lettuce, green beans, onions, tomatoes, huge squash, and sweet fruit that actually tastes like fruit - apricots, nectarines, loquats, citrus, and occasionally a bunch of hanging bananas. Piles of dates and crisp, fresh nuts round out the fare.
Back in Bizerte we took a quick wander through the ancient walled medina, absorbing the happy energy of the young couples and groups of people drinking afternoon tea from shiny ornate tea pots, stopped for a gelato, then back to meet the car rental guy to get our 100 dinar and 200 Euro's that we'd left with him as a deposit. We had a bit of classic language-barrier-misunderstandings on both the front and back end of our car rental, all resolved, with fun pictures of our rental agent receiving, and returning our deposit, bills fanned out while he grinned.
The next morning, finally, after a very satisfying 2 weeks in Tunisia, it was time to set sail for Spain. So I need to dump the few words I learned in Arabic and French and re-awaken the Spanish. I'll miss the scowly faces of the Tunisian men, the low brows that shield their bright, friendly eyes and contrast their quick smiles. We loved Tunisia. Now, we look forward to hearing "Welcome to Spain!"