In front of us clear blue seas glistened in the
sunlight, whitewashed houses and cobbled streets glowed, and turquoise doors
studded with black and shiny brass rivets added more atmosphere to this quaint
village. Looking around us we could have
been in any of the villages that are so common on the Ionian islands of Greece. Only we weren't. Instead we were in northern Tunisia.
 |
| Sidi Bou Said |
We had been brought here by our driver / guide for the day. We had rejected the usual tourist bus trip,
it being too hot to deal with other foreigners and too much effort to feign
interest in conversation, and had instead secured the services of a friendly
driver found by the company outside our hotel.
For less than £70 he was going to drive us round and show us some
stuff. Sounded good, and here we were
enjoying a cold and frosty beverage in a shaded cafe with what had to be one of
the best views in the country. The
village of Sidi Bou Said did not disappoint, with its winding labyrinth of streets
leading nowhere and back again, as they wound there way though the village
bringing us out small courtyards or at narrow steps leading to open squares and
private gardens.
I myself got excited by the doors. It may seem strange but all through the
village traditional painted blue doors appear, each one individually decorated
with traditional motifs, such as stars, minarets and crescent moons. Each one of these doors was fixed to a traditional'
boxy' house, workshop or small shop often with the bright pink of that ever
present plant that is always found around in hot destinations such as this, the
bougainvillea. A contrast to the stark
white of the buildings. To be honest we
hadn't really meant to come here, it was a bonus thrown in by the taxi driver
who clearly knew what tourists wanted to see.
We had set off that morning with only two
destinations in mind. The first was the
capital Tunis. An hour or so drive north
from where we were staying at the coast and only 20Km from Sidi Bou Said. First impressions were good. We drove right up what appeared to be the
main street and the taxi pulled over.
The wide boulevards reminded us of the wide tree lined avenue of Paris,
no surprise considering Tunisia's colonial heritage. Other evidence of 'Frenchness' appeared in
some of the facades of the historic buildings as well as the rather good and
strong coffee on offer at the street cafes and terraces along the street, where
many a Tunisian man sat taking in the day.
In contrast the winding lanes of the bazaar and the towers of the
minarets were very much north African, and provided an opportunity to get lost
amongst the traders in the alleys and soak up the sights and smells of the
market with its colourful silks and fresh fruits and vegetables on offer.
 |
| Tunis |
As much as we had enjoyed it in this capital city
we continued our journey by venturing out further to the ruins of Carthage. This ancient Phoenician city had long brought
to mind images of riches, knowledge and history and I wanted to see what it was
really like. What's left has obviously
lost a lot of its impact, piles of stones, with the odd still upright column are
dotted around the landscape, helpful diagrams giving some idea of what each
thing used to be help imagine the city at its best. The museum is interesting enough and the
remains of the amphitheatre a little further along the road help to add to the
atmosphere. But as is usual in places
such as this, reality of how time has taken its toll means that perhaps it should
be left to stories and legends to imagine it at its best.
 |
| Ruins of Carthage |
No comments:
Post a Comment