Adventures in Tunis

On a recent weekend afternoon, I ventured from my residence 20 kilometers northeast of Tunis to downtown Tunis with two friends.  We met at the terminal train stop of La Marsa Plage (plage is beach in French) and paid our 40 cent fare for the 40-minute ride into Tunis.  Our ride traversed the entire length of the train line—from La Marsa to Tunis.

The Tunis-La Goulette-La Marsa (TGM) train.

The ride started out pleasantly—the train cars are not fancy, but they are clean and fans mounted on the ceiling and the open windows keep the air moving and relatively cool, even on a hot day.  As the train made brief station stops on the way to Tunis, I chatted casually with my traveling companions about inconsequential topics.  Soon, though, our attention turned to the commotion at the other end of our train car.  The train was just leaving a station stop; without fully understanding what was happening, I saw two young men stumbling and trotting off of the train.  I initially concluded that they barely made it off the train before it started moving, having not realized at first that they were at their intended stop. 

Quickly, though, it was clear that something else was going on—these young men were not awkwardly tripping away from the train because they were absent minded; in fact, they took advantage of a woman standing near the exit door of the train, stealing her purse and slipping out of the door as the train was leaving the station, making it impossible for the victim to react in time before the train left the station.  The victim and her family frantically exited the train at the next stop, and several passengers in our car shouted out window to the personnel at the station, explaining what had happened at the previous stop.  I was powerless to do anything but clutch my bag a bit tighter for the remainder of the ride, even though my bag contained nothing more than a water bottle.  It was a good reminder to me that even as an experienced traveler I need to be cautious and attentive when I’m out and about.

There was no more excitement on the train for the remainder of the ride to Tunis.  My fellow travelers knew how to get from the train station to our destination, the market (or Souk) in the old city, so we started the 20 minute walk down a broad boulevard to the entrance of the Souk; along the way, we passed cafes, stores, a theater, and several side streets with more of the same.  The scene had a very European feel—even on the last day of Ramadan when the cafes were closed in respect of the day-long fast.

The market is prominently announced with what once was the gate to (or from) the old city of Tunis.

Gate at entrance of old city of Tunis

Once in the old city, we followed a maze of narrow streets past vendors of souvenirs, clothes, carpets, shoes, and sweets.  After walking the narrow streets for 15 minutes, we faced a “T” intersection and paused to decide where to go next.  As we paused, a Tunisian man suggested that we should go see the panoramic view of the old city that was nearby.  He showed us the location on a map mounted on a nearby wall.  The three of us walked in the general direction that he suggested, without a great deal of interest in reaching the precise spot he showed us.  Soon, we realized we were on a dead-end road and when we turned around, the same man was there and offered to take us to the location he had suggested.  Knowing that he would soon become our tour guide that we would be obligated to compensate, I told my traveling companions that we could refuse his services and go our own way.  But we all agreed that it would be worthwhile to get a tour through the maze of streets in the old city.  Our guide spoke some English but was much more comfortable speaking French; my traveling companions spoke limited French, so even my limited French proficiency came in handy as he explained things along the way and as we had questions about the significance or age of the sites we saw.  Our first stop was a panoramic view of 9 mosques (and much of the rest of downtown Tunis).  Other stops included a museum that held the tombs of many prominent ‘kings’ (called Bey) from the Ottoman Empire, a local carpet cooperative, and a perfume vendor.  Despite high-pressure selling, none of us bought carpets or perfume.

After spending roughly 2 hours with us, we compensated our guide generously—probably a bit too generous in retrospect, but with an important holiday—Eid al Fitr—around the corner, it felt like the right thing to do.  (Eid al Fitr marks the end of the holy month of Ramadan.)  Also, the experience not only provided us with a good information tour of the old city of Tunis but also gave me an opportunity to practice speaking French.

Once again on our own, the three of us enjoyed the narrow streets of the market at a casual pace and spent a considerable amount of time in one welcoming shop in particular. 

The narrow streets of the Tunis Souk

 

Finally, late in the afternoon, we left the old city and returned to the train station for the ride back to La Marsa.  Back in La Marsa, we tromped down the long beach as the sun settled over the horizon.  Walking in close proximity to the Mediterranean was pleasant enough, but negotiating the sand made for a bit of a workout and even with the sun beyond the horizon, the combination of heat and humidity made it a sticky, sweaty affair.  The rolling waves just a few feet away mocked me as I nearly swam in my increasingly saturated clothes.

It had been a nice day but I was ready for the comforts of home, so I decided to leave my traveling companions for the night.  My 30-minute walk home was lovely—there was a faintly festive mood in the air.  Tunisians had just recently broken fast for the final time this Ramadan.  I imagine they were experiencing a mix of emotions—proud to have completed another month of fasting; saddened but also relieved to leave behind the strict routines mandated during Ramadan.

Observations & Contemplations from Tunisia (pt. 1)

After living in Tunisia for nearly 3 weeks, I must be some sort of cultural and social expert on all things Tunisia.  (In much of the same way that someone who reads a magazine article about Einstein is an expert in his theory of general relativity.) 

Here are three brief observations and contemplations, mostly gathered while strolling the streets during this hot, humid month of Ramadan.

Black Sedans and Yellow Cabs

Black sedans rule the streets of greater Tunis.  Black Peugeots, BMWs, Renaults, VWs and Citroens roll past by the dozens.  Not all cars on the road are black sedans, of course, but it is a bit striking at first glance that so many are.  The only vehicles that are perhaps even more prevalent than the black sedans are the yellow taxis trawling the streets for fares.  Historically, I’ve not been drawn to riding in taxis.  The supposed convenience of being chauffeured to my destination has in most places I’ve lived lately been outweighed by the inconvenience of cost, riding in broken-down vehicles, and drivers who don’t know how to reach my destination.  I also value the benefits of walking from point A to point B and/or using mass transit if either or both of those are viable options.  But I arrived in Tunisia during the peak of the summer heat (more on that below), which makes walking during the day an uncomfortable affair.  And the combination of fairly inexpensive taxis fares, good roads, and competent taxi drivers makes taxis a more attractive option for many destinations throughout large sections of the day.

Underage ‘drivers’

I’ve traveled extensively around the world and am accustomed to seeing prodigious deployment of cars and motorcycles—a family of four on a motorcycle is not an unusual sight; a one-year old standing on the passenger seat in a moving car is terrifying to see but not out of the ordinary.  However, Tunisians seem to be a bit more ambitious when it comes to children and their vehicles.  One very common sight is a small child on a moped—almost always a young boy of around 4 or 5— grasping the handle bars while standing in front of his seated father.  I don’t have a picture of this, but imagine a man sitting on the scooter pictured below with a child standing in front of him; the boy’s head barely reaches the handle bars but he grips onto them with his father as they motor down the road. 

Keep in mind that there are no helmet laws in Tunisia.  And although I do see the occasional motorcyclist with a helmet, I’ve never seen a child wearing a helmet, much less eye protection.  I’m sure it’s a thrill for the child and is considered to be convenient transportation, but the outcome of even a minor wreck conjures an utterly horrific scene.

Even more puzzling, the other day while walking home from work, I saw a car—probably a black sedan, although I wasn’t paying close attention to the outside of the vehicle—in the far right lane of the road that is essentially a 3-lane highway to Tunis.  The car initially caught my attention because it was on the road but not moving.  When I looked closer, I saw a man in the passenger seat and two men in the backseat, but nobody in the driver’s seat.  The car appeared to be stalled on the side of the road, but nobody was outside of the vehicle trying to fix it—rather, the man in the passenger seat seemed to be leaning over to the driver’s seat trying to fix the problem.  As I kept walking down the sidewalk and could see inside the front seat more clearly, I saw a boy of maybe 7 or 8 years old perched in the driver’s seat.  To my surprise, the man in the passenger seat then started the car and to the apparent delight of him and the other adult passengers, the child started driving the vehicle slowly down the busy street.  (I assume the man in the passenger’s seat was controlling the pedals because I don’t think the child was tall enough to reach the pedals and see over the steering wheel.)  The car picked up speed until I lost sight of it in the distance.  As I continued down the road, I feared I would hear a crash or see evidence that it had careened off the road.  My fears were not realized—at least not as far as I saw.

It’s not the heat, it’s the…

The past few months, when I told friends that I was moving to Tunisia, a common point of discussion was the weather here.  Oftentimes, people would comment on how hot it would be—especially in July and August.  I had consulted a few weather-related websites that indicated July and August were the hottest months of the year with average highs in the 90s.  I had also looked at the map and noted the proximity of my new home to the Mediterranean.  (In fact, I live an easy 30-minute walk from the water.)  After my 5-minutes of research, I determined that it wouldn’t really be very hot.  I’ve certainly lived through 90-degree temperatures (and hotter); and surely a large body of water such as the Mediterranean would moderate extreme weather conditions, I thought.  So when my friends said something along the lines of: Boy, that’s going to be hot!  I refuted their supposition, noting my experience with hot conditions and/or the more moderate climate I expected to experience.

Well, I’m here to admit some flaws in my logic.  Apparently, when the sun wants to be hot and intense, it’s going to be hot and intense, no matter the presence of a large body of water.  And when the heat is combined with high humidity, as it turns out to be here in Northern Tunisia most of the time, even an otherwise tolerable 90 degree day gets uncomfortable very quickly.  And last weekend, an unusual hot spell sent temperatures soaring well above 100.  Some sources reported temperatures of 45 or even 46 degrees Celsius, which equates to temperatures around 115 Fahrenheit.  Unfortunately, my curiosity took me outside for a mid-day walk last Sunday.  Under the blazing sun, my walk started out ok.  But as the minutes wore on and the sweat collected on my face and forearms, I realized that being out at that time was not a smart idea.  There was scant shade to be found on the streets and few businesses were open—both because it is Ramadan and because why in the world would anyone be outside shopping in those conditions?  After 45 minutes in the sun, I started walking back in the direction of my house.  But I am still not very familiar with the neighborhood and my imagination started to get the worse of me—spinning through a fantasy in which I was disoriented and unable to find my way home.  Luckily, within a few minutes, I started recognizing landmarks and knew that I was within 15 minutes of reaching my house.  But by then the sweat on my forehead started to flood into my eyes, bringing with it the sunscreen I had judiciously applied before leaving the house.  I was half blind and half delirious for the final few blocks of my foolish outing.  Needless to say, I spent the rest of the day inside in an air conditioned room drinking cold water and juice—and trying to restore the energy that had been sapped by the intense mid-day sun.

Which brings me to a slightly tangential question: What does it take to coin a phrase?  Because I invented a phrase several years ago that I’ve tested with various people without much success.  I realize now, though, that perhaps I was testing the phrase out of context  And only in thinking about the foolish escapade I just described have I discovered the proper context for what I feel is a clever and useful phrase.  With that in mind, perhaps I will re-introduce and try again to coin the phrase here: It’s not the heat, it’s the stupidity.

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And with that, I conclude part one of my initial observations and contemplations from Tunisia except to add one more thought.  Based on this blog entry, you might be under the impression that I think poorly of Tunisians or am having a miserable time here.  That is far from the case.  My three weeks here have been filled with many happy moments, little discoveries, beautiful sunsets, wonderful views of the aqua blue Mediterranean, and hundreds of inconsequential but pleasant interactions with Tunisians—who by all accounts are friendly, kind, and generous.  And last weekend’s hot weather anomaly has not repeated itself—today I enjoyed a trouble-free two hour walk around town.  Here’s a glimpse from my route today:

Stayed tuned as I continue my journey to knowing, enjoying, and understanding Tunisia…