Tunisian Travels – Day 2: Tunis

When I arrived in Tunis two nights ago, I greeted the receptionist at my hotel in French. She was a young lady with dark hair and bright green eyes, a striking feature that was tempered with the shyness of someone who does not like to call more attention to herself than she already receives. She responded to my greeting with embarrassment, saying – in English – that while she understood French, she would only be able to respond in English. She explained that unlike the older Francophone generations, most people in their twenties and thirties speak English better than French, which was a lesson that have carried with me throughout my travels.

I spent the day in the centre of Tunis, which appeared deserted when I entered its narrow streets at around half past eight. There were more cats than people, an apparently feral population supported by rubbish strewn around the pavements. There were also no tourists. I assumed this latter fact explained why the Royal Mausoleum of Tourbet el Bey and the Ez-Zitouna Mosque – two of the most important attractions in the medieval town – were both closed. However, upon further reflection, I realise that unless the mosque only opens at prayer time, its closure does not only affect tourists. In any case, having seen the state of the tram and railway system in Tunis, I was not particularly surprised that tourist attractions were not being sufficiently staffed either.

I walked around the neighbourhood of the mosque for some time, first while trying to find the way to the entrance and then while trying to find the way out. The entire vicinity of the mosque consists of roofed passageways lined by shops, which interfered with my usual method of looking at the skyline to find my bearings. The cramped surroundings also made it difficult for me to shake off local busybodies who would try to strike up a conversation with me about how the mosque is closed and how I should go to this or that terrace to see it from above. I am not sure whether they take a commission from the cafes and souvenir shops that run these terraces or whether they simply ask tourists for money directly once they deliver them to the establishment.

I finally wound my way out of the alleyways onto Kasbah Square, one of the political centres of Tunis. Flanked by several ministries, parts of the square function as a parking lot for staffers, with access to the lower part restricted to other drivers. A number of barriers made of light metal ran alongside the roads and across parts of the square in a way that seemed almost haphazard. Indeed, they appeared too flimsy to withstand any larger impact, and people had no issue passing through them or around them. The upper part of the square, between the monument and the large beige-turquoise building of the Tunis Municipal administration, stood almost entirely empty. This would have made the building seem imposing and forbidding, were it not for a group of young boys who decided to turn the area into a football court.

I continued north through the old town’s alleyways again and finally left its confusing network of streets at Saadoun Gate. I thought that such a big junction would be an ideal place to catch a taxi, but I did not have any luck. There was no shortage of taxis, but all of them seemed to be occupied, including the ones with green text on their dashboards indicating they were empty. Only later did I realise that just like in Japan, green indicates that a taxi is full and red indicates that it is empty, which is a mind-bending concept to a European like me.

Unable to catch a taxi, I resolved on walking to my next destination, the National Museum of Bardo. There were, I saw, tram and bus stops along the way, but during the entire walk, which must have taken around three quarters of an hour, only one bus passed by, and I am not even sure it would have taken me to the museum. Unsurprisingly, I found that most visitors to the museum had arrived by car or tour bus: there were a few Spanish-speaking, Polish and Chinese groups, the latter being the only group not to come with a local tour guide but a tour guide of their own. Just like me, all these visitors were magnetically attracted to the second floor, which houses monumental mosaics from the Roman era. The second floor is also where the pre-Roman artefacts of ancient Carthage are to be found, while the first floor exhibits items from the Christan and early Muslim eras.

After eating a quick and light lunch at the museum café, I left to look for a taxi. Once again, the simple task proved to be an ordeal, but this time round I had the good fortune of finding a popular drop-off point. Instead of having to flag down a driver, all I did was wait by the tram stop until a taxi came by to deliver other travellers. I took the taxi all the way to Kasbah Square, where I re-entered the mess of alleyways to find some lookout points. I first visited a mosque that had opened for prayers, but of course one cannot simply climb a minaret to look out over a city, and the courtyard itself did not offer very good views.

I decided, therefore, to look for one of those rooftop cafes I had been told about. There were far more people – including tourists – in the streets, and there were also many more indefatigable men approaching them in a friendly manner to inform them of the mosque’s closure and the existence of various free rooftop views. Perhaps it would have been easier to let myself be taken in for the ride, but instead I decided to think about where, given the sun’s arc across the afternoon sky in the winter months, the rooftop cafés would be. My reasoning led me straight to what was clearly the most popular rooftop café in the city. I imagine it was the most popular one as surely only the most popular place would dare to charge fifteen dinars for an orange juice; also, when I looked around at the other rooftops, I did not see many people anywhere else.

One last cultural note for the day: Francophone Tunisians have an intriguingly simple way of giving directions. Rather than bother themselves with the crudest details of a route, they vaguely gesture in one direction and say, “tout droit” (straight ahead), no matter what direction the person receiving the directions is facing. All need for the concept of “left” and “right” is thus avoided with a simple hand gesture or a mere turn of the head.