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Mexico North America

South of the Border: Luche Libres in Mexico City

I ended up with a four day long weekend and I was determined to go somewhere, but none of the near-to-Vancouver destinations appealed, so I looked for cheap flights to destinations that I could manage in a not-quite four day trip. And here I am en route to Mexico City.

I booked my ticket with about a week’s lead time so I didn’t do my usual months of study and preparation. I feel underprepared, but it’s kind of exciting. I realized, as I hurriedly scanned my newly purchased Lonely Płanet that I don’t actually know very much about Mexico. Just pop-culture stuff: Chupacabra. The Three Amigos. Frida Khalo & Diego Rivera. The Tijuana Brass. A handful of writers…not much about the history or politics, aside from the fact that there were Aztecs and Mayans, but I don’t know much about them. I went to Tijuana with my mother and sister when I was 11 and that was awesome. It was the first different place I went. I remember donkeys, little girls selling chicklets, and the market where I was first introduced to the concept of bargaining – the price isn’t really the price? Young mind blown. I bought a skinny leather necktie. (It was the ’80s.) And I’ve never been back. Until now.

You won’t find me at a beach or resort, but Mexico City looked like it would satisfy my travel needs. A big city with lots to explore, culture, history, inexpensive everything, and maybe a little dangerous? Great. (Actually, I think the rumours of danger are overblown, a least in comparison to other cities I’ve been, but who knows? As I write this preamble, I am still on the plane from Vancouver.)

[several hours later]

I arrived at my hostel, the Casa San Ildefonso, in the centre historico, by metro. The metro system here is great. It’s not fancy, but it’s comprehensive, fast, and cheap – a ride anywhere is 5 pesos, or about 30 cents. The thing i like best about it is that each station has its own logo. Apparently, when it was built the literacy rate was low so they gave the stations names and pictures. From the airport to my hostel this was my route in pictures: kangaroo, squirrel, water twins, water pipe, aloe, church tower, pyramid, skyscraper, shoulders man, handsome man, church, decapitated Chaplin, eagle.

I walked across the Zocalo square, flanked by impressive buildings and easily found my lodgings. Simple, pleasant, and very cheap.

I went for a walk and found the Los Vegetarianos restaurant where i finally tried mole sauce. Weird and gross at first, but then I decided I loved it.

I got in at about 5:00 and part of me just wanted to hang out, but Friday night was my only chance to take in a uniquely Mexican event: lucha libres. (Mexican wrestling) I hopped the metro to the Arena Mexico. The area was a bit rough looking, but felt totally safe. The streets were lined with food vendors, cooking up savoury snacks, and vendors selling wrestling masks. Divey bars spilled cervesa holding patrons and live rock music onto the street. I wished i had gotten there earlier to explore, but i had a show to see.

I bought a ticket, mid range, for about $13 cad and entered a big stadium filled with people and noise and roving snack and beer sellers. The show was…crazy. Lights and smoke machines. Scantily clad, curvy girls danced to rock music as each wrestler was announced to cheers. The costumes were elaborate. Wings, capes, silver boots, spandex pants with stars and skulls, and teeny speedos.

The idea is this, there are good guys (Technicós) and bad guys (Rudos) and they fight one-on-one or in groups. It is all choreographed but is quite impressive. They are like gymnasts or acrobats. The crowd goes crazy cheering and booing and yelling rude chants. Kind of like a bizarre pantomime.

I stayed for about and hour and a half, but left before it was over. I got the idea and it was quite late. I took the metro back. It was packed. It took me three tries to get on and we were crammed in. It wasn’t bad though; I was easily the tallest person in my end of the car and people were polite. They do have cars for women and children which are less full (and smell better).

Back in my ‘hood, I went for a walk around midnight (still feeling safe) and had a cigar. It was a great first day, even if it was only about 8 hours.

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Forced Relaxation in Tunis & Zürich

I returned to Tunis late and awoke the next morning with the beginning of a cold. Annoying, but inevitable when traveling, I suppose. The only good things were that I really didn’t have anything I needed to do in Tunis and I was staying at a fancy hotel (as has become my way; finish the trip somewhere slightly posh). I was staying at the Hotel Royal Victoria, right at the entrance to the medina, with a view of the square form my private balcony. I had a tv and my own bathroom and hot water. Luxury!

In the morning I gorged myself on their breakfast buffet (cold be dammed, I’m not missing out on a free breakfast).

And so, it being my last day, I decided to do some shopping. I find I am less and less inclined to buy things for myself. I have nowhere to keep them and even though that [insert exotic item] might look tempting when in the souk, when I get home, the gloss is gone and I realize that the item doesn’t fit with my real life. But I did haggle my way through the market and pick up a few items to be gifted. It was fun, but my cold was getting worse and my energy wasn’t great.

Despite that, I was determined to get a good walk in, so I picked a destination – the belvedere park – it was quite a way out of the centre but a good walk through streets away from the tourist-geared cafes and shops. It just felt like a regular city.

Belvedere park is a lovely green area with a zoo, as it turned out. I’m opposed to zoos generally and felt a bit conflicted about whether or not to go, but ultimately I did. I can’t say that part of me isn’t interested in seeing the animals, but i would rather it be under different circumstances. These were animals, exotic and otherwise, in too small cages, swimming in circles, or lying listlessly. That paints maybe too bleak a picture, but it is true. I enjoyed myself anyway.

(That picture of the guy and crocodile amused me, like why would anyone need a warning not to play catch with crocodiles?)

I walked back to my hotel, went into the medina for dinner and shisha, and spent the rest of the evening watching movies on tv in my room.

I woke up at 3:30am as I had an early flight, i slept for maybe an hour, owing to a fever, crushing headache, and an inability to breathe through my nose. I flew to Zurich and walked to my airbnb lodging, not far from the main train station, between there and Kreis 5. A charming apartment called home by a boyfriend-girlfriend architect couple from eastern Europe.

I felt like garbage, but it was a gorgeous spring day, so i walked to and around Kreis 5, a sort of former warehouse type district now populated by art galleries, eateries catering to foodies, and, on the day that I was there, an urban bicycle festival and a neighbourhood yard sale. The area is quite nice. In fact, Zurich really grew on me in my last couple of days. The historic area is beautiful and great to see, but these other neighbourhoods felt more authentic and I was charmed by them. Zurich doesn’t seem to me like an exciting city, but it is very attractive and so peaceful. Everything it quiet. There are no horns honking, no radios blaring, no loud conversations, no loud transportation. It’s almost eerie, but kind of nice. There is a lot of bike riding, people having wine at cafes, and picnics. It all seems like an ideal city. It is true that i prefer my cities dirty and chaotic, but this kind of grew on me. Or maybe it was just the fever.

I didn’t really do anything, but I walked, through that area and the into the old city. I thought about hitting a cigar lounge or going for lunch somewhere quaint, but I was feeling increasingly ill so i returned to the flat in the afternoon and spent the rest of the day and night in my room, listing to podcasts and trying to sleep through what seemed to be the flu.

Being sick at the end of vacation, which always seems to happen to me, is inconvenient but in a way it is also kind of nice to be forced to spend a day or to actually relaxing, which I would not do on my travels unless forced. And the rest was just what I needed to feel better for the next day when I would go to Liechtenstein.

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Departing Djerba

Day three on Djerba. I had (have) a 5:00 flight, so I just planned to have a relaxing day. Of course I woke up early with the first call to prayer announcing morning. I just lazed about. Had a slow breakfast. Decided to go on a walk. I was delighted to find that one of the main streets, which had been empty since I arrived had been transformed into a bustling marketplace that spilled out onto the side streets.

It wasn’t a touristy market, but one for locals. Shoes, clothing, fabric, pots & pans, spices…just regular stuff but it was a lot of fun to walk through. The merchants still tried to sell me their goods, usually calling out to me in Russian to catch my attention. It was the same thing in Turkey. I really should learn Russian for how often I am mistaken for a national. (Except in Ethiopia and Burkina Faso where I was often mistaken for Japanese.)

I talked with some locals who lamented the lack of tourists since the revolution. It is true that there are not a lot of them here, which has been lovely for me to avoid crowds, but it must be so difficult for the people who rely on tourists for income. Seriously, people should come here. It is beautiful and filled with history and culture. And it is easy to travel in. And cheap.

Back to the market. At the other end of the street was the —- fort sitting at the edge of the sea. I walked the ramparts and looked around before heading back to the area around my hotel. I did a little shopping, had a lunch of vegetable ragout, smoked some apple shisha, and headed to the airport.

It was a good, final day in Djerba, which I have loved. What I don’t love is that my flight back to Tunis is delayed by an hour so far, with no information as to when it will depart. This is the fifth TunisAir flight I have taken and they each have been delayed by more than one hour. Another was cancelled altogether. The airport here doesn’t exactly have amusements. One cafe with a few sad looking sandwiches. No shops. No wifi. (I will post this when I am back in Tunis.) on the plus side, I have books, music, and podcasts, and have caught up on my postcard sending. I don’t really mind the delay; I didn’t have any plans for this evening in Tunis except for enjoying my slightly posh hotel room. I shall use this time, stranded at the airport, to do what my mother would advise, which is to relish in the opportunity to relax and do nothing, for there is noting to do.

EPLIOGUE
My flight ended up bring cancelled. And so was the next one. They arranged for a new flight but not everyone could get on. Overall, I spent 8 hours at the airport. Not agony, but far from idea. I did mean a British/American woman and her Tunisian fiancé who were trying to get to Tunis for their wedding, which ensured them a spot on the plane. We also told the airport check in people that I was a bridesmaid at the wedding, which got me on the plane as well. On the plane, I learned from a Tunisian/German man that the taxis in Tunis were on strike. This would have delayed my arrival in Tunisia by hours, but the man connected me with another Tunisian man sitting in front of me, who said his wife, who was picking him up, would drive me to my hotel. And they did. Now I am in Tunis, already forgetting about the huge airport delay and looking forward to tomorrow.

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Around Tataouine

My second day in Djerba I hired a driver to take me off of the Island to the desert to go To Tataouine and the surrounding area. We drive off the island (there is a bridge / a sort of a road that the Romans built apparently) onto mainland Tunisia. The landscape grew more and more deserty, with just small, dry shrubberies and clusters of palms.

Our first stop was at a salt lake that rivals the dead sea for its salt content. The shores were glimmering white, crusted salt flats.

From there we drove to Tataouine, after which the Star Wars Tatooine took its name. Huge chunks of the early Star Wars movies were filmed around Tataouine and on Djerba. I think one can organize a tour of just the filming sites.

One of the Star Wars sites is Ksar Ouled Soltane. (It was some slave quarters in one of the original films – I don’t know more details, but I’m sure there are a about 5000 websites with that information.) A ksar (or ksour) is an old fortified village. Amazingly, it was totally empty. You would think there would be an admission fee, a souvenir stand selling key ring light sabres, and a coffee shop called ‘Java the Hut’…but I had the place to myself. It was so cool to wander around and climb up the staircases, looking out over the desert. Definitely cinematic. There are many other Ksours in the area, each with their own George Lucas connection, but they all look pretty much the same, and having only one day, this was the one I picked.

After that we drove to an abandoned hilltop village with a white mosque. I don’t know the name, but the steep climb afforded good views.

Next the driver (Nasr) and I had lunch at a huge, soulless restaurant that obviously catered to bus tours. The atmosphere was awful (and it is, based on my experience, the only non-smoking restaurant in the country) but the food was good. Vegetable couscous with Harissa, baguettes, and olives.

I then connected with an English speaking young man from the ares who took me on a walk through the Berber village of Chenini. It is partly inhabited by a large Berber population, but the draw is the now abandoned villages built high into the mountain in around the 11th or 12th century. My guide, who was not at all winded by the steep climb, told me all about the history and how the structures were built to protect against invaders.

He also knew the good spots for photos.

The place was pretty quiet. I saw only two other tourists.

Before falling asleep in the car I saw camels and one canine (the driver said it was a jackal). I woke up in time to take in a few more views of desert and the lake before being dropped off back in Houmt Souk. It was a long day of driving and I was exhausted. I don’t know how sitting in a car most of the day makes me more tired than walking all day, but it does. So I had dinner of vegetable tagine and a cigar before going to bed early.

If i had longer, or if i had decided to spend my time differently, I would have gone on a camel trek further into the desert, which would be great, though I know from experience that doing so solo with a non-English speaking guide can be a bit too quiet for my liking. I bet the stars would have been lovely though.

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Djerba

I flew from Montasir (the closest airport to Sousse) to Djerba, an island on the south west coast of Tunisia, between the Mediterranean and the gulf of Gabès. Djerba is known for its relaxed vibe, its beauty, its string of beach resorts on the east coast, and for having both Jewish and Berber populations.

I caught a taxi to the capital of Djerba, Houmt Souk and to my hotel, the Hôtel Erriadh Djerba. My hotel is perfect, an old funduq located next to the souq and bordered by appealing squares. It is covered in tiles and the rooms surround a whitewashed patio with flowering vines and singing birds.

I basically just went to bed that night, but the next day, after breakfast in the patio, i went out to explore. Houmt Souk isn’t full of must see attractions. The delight is in the wandering. Market stalls, sunny squares with cafes and juice stands, colorful shops, carpet vendors, and tucked away mosques, all gleaming white in contrast to the blue sky.

There is no hustle here; it just feels chill and beachy, even though the beach is still a short drive away.

It is also small, so after a few hours I had seen all of the bits I needed to see (and would see it all more, since this is where I am staying) so I took at a taxi to the town of Erriadh. The appeal there is the synagogue and a display of street art.

There is, apparently, one of the largest or last remaining Jewish communities in North Africa on Djerba and there is the El-Ghriba synagogue, the oldest in North Africa. It is the most heavily secured site I have visited on this trip, with metal detectors and machine gun guards at the entrance. The building itself is beautiful, blue and tiled, with silver plaques (sort of like those Mexican milagro charms).

From there I walked to the town centre. The town itself is nothing to see, but behind the main street, in the residential alleys there is a terrific display of street art. The art was created as part of a project called Djerbahood in 2014 or 2015 in which artists were given liberty to decorate the white washed streets. It was delightful. There are no signs and no map, so you basically have to wander the streets looking for paintings. It is like a treasure hunt.

Many of the paintings are worn, but are still worth seeing.

From there, it was still early enough, so I decided to catch a taxi to the Zone Touristique on the west side of the island, where all of the resort hotels line white sandy beaches. I don’t care for the beach, but I thought maybe a drink on a terrace would be nice.

It was a long drive, which I enjoyed, but once we arrived at the zone I was disappointed. Yes, there is the beach, but the resorts are these massive, gated structures – not at all welcoming to non guests – along a stretch of highway. It isn’t really walkable (at least not pleasantly) and it just all felt remote and unappealing. (If you are a resort person, they look like wonderful places, but to me they seemed like giant, land locked cruise ships. Yuck.) So I had the driver turn around and take me back to Houmt Souk. I had shisha in a square and watched a cat attack my hookah each time the water bubbled.

It is so peaceful here at night after the day time tourists from the resorts have left. Quiet and almost magical.

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8 hours in Lyon

It makes absolutely no sense. I wanted to fly from Montasir (the airport near Sousse, Tunisia to Djerba, Tunisia. The flight should have taken an hour. Maybe. The buses were too slow and the train doesn’t go to the island of Djerba, so I was set on flying and doing so today. Well, the only flight that came up in multiple searches was a flight from Montasit, to Lyon, France, and to Djerba. It seemed ludicrous…but the flight did offer an 8 hour layover in Lyon. That was appealing. I haven’t been to France in years and never to Lyon. So I booked it.

When I arrived at the airport for my 6:30am flight, the guys at check in thought it was crazy. One even offere

d to put me on a flight that connected in Tunis, but I declined. I was already looking forward to a coffee in the old city.

An 8 hour layover doesn’t mean 8 hours of walking around Lyon. It means 5 hours max. There are a few tricks to these just-long-enough-to-leave-the-airport layovers. I try to check in for both flights at the beginning and check my bag through to the end, so I’m not messing around with bag collection and checking in. That wasn’t possible for this flight, so I took my bag as a carry on and left it in the luggage storage at the train station. I also study ahead of time. If you’ve only got a half day, there isn’t time to figure out when you are there what you want to see or do. So I do my homework and determine what areas I want to visit and what I want to see and how I am going to get around. If I can (as I did in Lyon), I buy my transit tickets online ahead of time and I get foreign currency before landing so I don’t have to waste time in queues. And most importantly, I study maps intently. Like I am planning a bank job. I want to know, as much as possible, what exit to take from the metro and which bridge to walk across and what street to turn left on when I get to the other side. This satisfies both my desire to make good use of my short layover and my fondness for maps.

It all worked well today. I probably could have even spent another hour in the city but I didn’t want to risk missing my plane.

I took the express airport train and then the metro to Vieux Lyon; the old city…and also the most touristy, but it is popular with visitors for a reason. The streets are so charming, with old buildings hung with old signs, narrow lanes lined with cheese shops and quaint cafés, patisseries, and churches.

And overlooking it all is a cathedral on a hill.

I walked up and down the streets, stopping for a coffee and a pink praline tart – apparently Lyonnaise specialty. So good and disgustingly sweet.

I walked down the river for a bit, photographing churches and buildings.

Back on to the Rue Ste Jean, looking for number 53 or 54 and for a plain door, which would lead to one of the many traboules – hidden passages which lead between buildings to other streets and also to private residences. There are apparently 315 of them, but only a few are accessible or known to the public. According to the good book (Lonely Planet) some of them date to Roman times and the rest were in the 19th century. It was indeed a long passage, in some places providing access to apartments. Who doesn’t love secret passages? If only i had to pull a candlestick to gain access.

I then took the funicular up to the Basilica Notre Dame de Fourvière, which is a beautiful 19th century cathedral overlooking the city. There were priests wandering around, as well as worshippers, but they were outnumbered by tourists, so I was able to take pictures.

I then walked to Place Bellecour and took the train to Hotel de Ville to see some of the fancy buildings in that area.

At that point i headed back to the airport. I probably could have spent another hour, but I didn’t want to be rushing to catch my flight. I saw what I wanted to see, had an afternoon in France, and was on my way back to Tunisia.

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El Jem

On my second day in Sousse I decided to visit El Jem, a small city about an hour away, which is notable for its fairly well-preserved amphitheater dating to ~230. I know I just said i was over Roman ruins, but this isn’t ruins per se, it’s a structure, not rubble.

I had a bit of time before the train so I walked around some more and followed a small tour group of Germans into the courtyard of the great mosque.

I took the train, which was cheap and pleasant. The scenery wasn’t much to look at – dry land, cacti, boxy villages, and rows upon rows of olive trees. In El Jem, it was easy to figure out where to go: walk towards the giant amphitheater.

It really was quite impressive. It held about 30,000 spectators in its day, all there to see battle between men and beasts. It was fun to scramble around on the various levels and explore the tunnels underground where the combatants waited for their (presumably final) moments.

It is very much like the Colosseum in Rome, but just a bit smaller, with FAR fewer tourists, and 100% more camels.

While there i ran into a girl I had met in Tunis, from Shanghai and traveling solo. We hung out together for a while, walking the site and having coffee.

Then it was time to return to Sousse. And that is when the misadventure began. The train was not running again until after 6pm, and even then was not going to Sousse, but to a nearby town. The main bus station was missing, as was any information about it. So we decided to take the louage – a shared minivan, lie a marshrutka – very common for locals. The girl I was with had taken it to El Jem and had not had any problems, so we walked to the station. One louage was just leaving for Sousse (full). There was no way to know when another would arrive, but there were at least 39 people waiting. The way they work is the van leaves when full, but each van only holds 8 people, so it looked like we might be there a while. I tried to convince a taxi to drive us (and was prepared to pay handsomely for it) but no one would agree. Back to the louage station and even more people were waiting to go to Sousse. We quickly realized that there was no order to the boarding of the louage. When one arrived for Sousse, people rushed at it, cramming and pushing on. It was mayhem. I realized that if i was going to get to Sousse, I was going to have to take extreme measures.

The next time a louage with the Sousse sign on it drove into the station, I and others, ran towards the vehicle, while it was driving. One guy opened the panel door and jumped in, while the vehicle drove. Then a girl and her friend. Then i grabbed on to the seat back, pulled myself in, and my temporary traveling companion followed. As we did so, other people tried to push us out of the way so they could do the same. By the time the van came to a stop, it was already full. It may not have been driving super fast, but I still felt like a low level action hero.

Once on board, a full on argument broke out between the two women sitting behind us and the driver. There was yelling in Arabic happening for like 5 minutes. The whole time, I was stressed that we were going to be kicked off for some minor infraction. One of the women was lightly slapped in the face by some man. Then things were quiet and we left, my heart beating.

Following that melee, the evening was relaxing. I had some super spicy, Tunisian vegetable dish, followed by shisha at a kind of fancy salon de thé. Then I went to bed, because the next morning I was being picked up at 3:30am for a flight to France..and then back to Tunisia.

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Sousse

I caught a morning bus from Tunis to Sousse. An easy trip, a little more than two hours. About $4. The scenery wasn’t great, but it was relaxing…well, sort of. I surrounded by a school group of children going to some pro-Palestine event. Loud singing and horseplay. Them, not me.

In Sousse, south on the coast from Tunis, I walked from the train station to the medina and found my hotel, the Hotel Medina, just behind the great mosque. Nothing makes me feel as capable and independent than arriving in a new city where I cannot speak the language and finding my way with a map.

The weather was perfect and the city begged to be explored. Sousse dates back to about 9th century BCE and is centred around a walled medina just blocks away from the harbour. The medina is smaller than the one in Tunis but is no less interesting, the souq is bustling with mostly locals and the streets are filled with vendors selling nuts and sweet treats, kids playing ball, and people going about their daily lives.

It is a tourist destination due to the beaches and resort hotels, though they are quiet at the moment. It is warm, but not quite beach weather and tourism is still suffering after the 2015 terrorist attack where about 30 people were killed when gunmen started shooting at one of the beach resorts.

I walked the medina, browsed the souqs, and walked up the beach aways; plenty of locals were enjoying the sun and sand. I did get lost for a while, due to a bird which shit on my map, rending one part of it indiscernible. I went to the ribat (an 8th century fort) and climbed the watchtower, which provided excellent views of the city and into the courtyard of the great mosque.

Aside from the miles of walking, it was a pretty chill day, which I finished with vegetable couscous on a patio and a cigar sitting on a step outside of the mosque. While I could always spend more time, a day in Sousse is sufficient, which is good because the next day I would be going to El Jem.

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Tunis : Plan B

Day three in Tunis started, as they all do, with breakfast. Breakfast at the hostel is bread heavy. Pan au chocolat, baguettes, fig jam, fig sweet rolls, cake, tiny bread doughnuts, and oranges fresh from the tree. The oranges here are excellent, as is the freshly squeezed juice which is available on every corner.

I left right after my carb infusion and caught a (very inexpensive) taxi to the bus station to go to Kaiouran, a very important holy site. About 3 hours by bus, i figured it would make a good day trip and a round trip ticket was about $4. The bus was to leave at 8:00, but it was late. The bus needed repairs. I chatted with a local young man, studying to be an electrician. He told me how he wants to move to Finland or Canada but that it is very difficult. Jobs here, he said, are in short supply. By 9:00 they said the bus would leave at 11:00 and i realized my day trip was sunk. Plan B: the Bardo Museum. I caught another taxi.

The museum, which I was not super keen to visit, was excellent. An extraordinary display of 2000 year old mosaics in an old palace, along with statues and some pottery and other bits and pieces .

The museum, which I was not super keen to visit, was excellent. An extraordinary display of 2000 year old mosaics in an old palace, along with statues and some pottery and other bits and pieces.

I got there right when it opened and it was fairly empty. That soon changed. Bus loads of tourists (Italian & Chinese tourists) arrived. I watched as person after person took pictures of themselves in front of the mosaics, jumping repeatedly to get just the right shot. Comical and confounding.

The museum was the site of a terrorist attack in 2015 and a number of tourists were gunned down. There is now a monument marking the event. Not that one ever expects to be shot, but it seems particularly unexpected in a museum, so quiet and organized.

I left the museum, planning to get a taxi. Tonnes drove by, but none stopped. I walked to the tram and got various, conflicting instructions about which tram to take. I finally figured it out but each tram that stopped was crammed full. Back to to taxi plan. About 20 minutes of watching countless taxis drive by, full. I approached a guy who had a lonely planet and who was also trying for a cab, suggesting that we share, as the odds were so poor and we were both going back to the medina. At it turned out, he was staying at my hostel. It took us close to an hour, but we got a cab.

Back at the medina, I spent the rest of the day walking around, visiting the market, stopping for shisha and coffees, finishing up with a small vegetarian pizza (the easiest to find vegetarian meal).
Nothing quite went as planned, but it was a good day.

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Carthage & Sidi Bou Said

Day two in Tunis i took the train North to Carthage and Sidi Bou Said. Having mastered the medina (well, the middle bit) I walked from my hostel to the train station and bought a 2nd class ticket for Carthage.

A 2nd class ticket for the ~35 minute ride was less than a dollar. First class was 2 or 3 times more. The only difference between classes was the padding on the seats and how crowded 2nd class gets. It was an easy train ride; the stations were marked and the map made sense. I got off at Carthage Hannibal to see the ruins of Carthage.

A word of advice if you are reading this and trip planning, as the site is not at all well marked. To get to Bursa Hill and the museum and surrounding sights, walk up the hill from the train station (with your back to the water). At about the top of the hill is a road on the left heading further uphill. Take that road. If you start going downhill, you’ve gone too far. Do not, as I did, keep walking for another 30+ minutes only to have to turn around and go back.

So, Carthage is an important city – in history, literature, and culture. Founded in around 815 BCE, it is ancient and many ruins remain. There was no way I was not going to go, and I’m glad I did…but I think i enjoyed the train ride and the walk more than the sights. If I had never seen Roman or Greek ruins before I might have found it fascinating, but I have and I’ve seen more impressive ones. I felt like kind of guilty walking around, looking at a few erect columns, the foundations of what were once great structures, and piles of stones, and being underwhelmed. I stood, at times, looking at a partial wall or bit of stone and trying to feel something akin to awe or genuine interest, but I found my mind wandering to the juice stand I had passed earlier or whether I had applied adequate sunscreen.

It just required a bit too much imagination. Certainly it gives the history some context, which I like, but i just can’t get excited about ruins anymore unless they resemble what they were, like the colosseum or Ephesus. After about two hours I was done.

Back on the train, I went to Sidi Bou Said, an impossibly picturesque town atop a hill overlooking the sea. The whole town is whitewashed with blue shutters, doors, and accents. Purple flowering vines creep over walls and orange trees fill the air with the strong scent of their blossoms.

It is definitely a tourist draw, but rightly so. It was a delight to walk the streets, at each turn another perfect sight. Around the edges shops sold pottery, dresses, paintings, and souvenirs. Cafés, ice cream stands, and sidewalk sweets vendors lured in the visitors. I had lunch at a curb side eatery: vegetarian couscous.

I trained back to Tunis, with more than enough time to nap, walk without purpose, and smoke a hookah as the sun set. I love how one day in Tunis one can walk down a street in the medina and it is just an empty passage, and the next day the same street is lined with chairs and tables, filled with people (men mostly) drinking coffee and tea and smoking shisha and cigarettes. Like pop up cafés. Very enjoyable. I had the classic combo of apple tobacco and Turkish coffee and watched people wander by.

The fact that I was able to find my way back to my hostel in the medina in the dark without a map, was a minor victory.

Wandering North

Tag: solo travel

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Djerba

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El Jem

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Tunis : Plan B

Carthage & Sidi Bou Said