Friday, March 27
My Easter vacation began with a taxi ride from school to the
airport to catch my flight at 12:30.
Though boarding was delayed one hour, we still managed to arrive just 15
minutes off schedule at the Tunis/Carthage airport by 3:30 pm. This is my first journey on the African
continent, and I feel excited and a bit nervous. The terrorist attack on the Bardo Museum
which killed 22 people, all tourists but one, had occurred just one week
earlier on March 18. We drive to my
friend’s rented house in Carthage. There
is a strong wind and cloudy skies today. The house is spacious and charming,
filled with Tunisian artisanry: paintings of whitewashed walls, and sundrenched
landscapes, ornate metal and colored glass lamps suspended from hooks, painted
pottery, colorful pillows and tapestries.
I unpack, have a coffee, and peek at the lovely walled garden through
the slatted wooden door protecting the glass doors to the outside. There is a small pool, a veranda with wicker
furniture, tables, potted cacti, a lime tree…all very appealing, but now it is
cold and feels like a winter afternoon.
There is little to eat in the house, so I take a walk before
dusk to a Monoprix we had passed on our drive here from the airport. The sidewalks of Carthage are dominated by
huge willow trees that lend grace and charm, obliging pedestrians to squeeze
past. I was soon to learn that the ancient streets of Carthage have witnessed
nearly three thousand years of human history, so it seems fitting for these
majestic trees to have priority of space. The wind is fierce, and night is
falling when I come out of the supermarket. I admire the elegant, white
colonnaded houses of this well-to-do neighborhood, thirteen kilometers from the
center of Tunis. We are staying near the bordering popular neighborhood known
as Le Kram where a national book fair is being held. Carthage is an ancient seaport, and the Punic
ports are just a few meters from the house, as well as the sea itself. At 8:00 pm the call for prayer in a nearby
mosque begins. It is a sound which has
become familiar to me over the years….I remember hearing it in Sofia for the
first time years ago as there was a mosque near my mother-in-law’s apartment
(as well as a historic synagogue, and a byzantine church). I have listened to this melodic call on trips
to Turkey and most recently in the Maldives.
Saturday, March 28
The next morning, the sun is shining brightly, and we drive
to the stylish 5-star design Hotel Movinpick in Gammarth for a buffet breakfast
wıth a splendid vıew of the sea. I learn that the Saudis invested heavily in
Tunisia to help finance two luxurious suburbs filled with apartments, shops and
restaurants known as Les Berges du Lac I et II.
These are saltwater lakes created by dredging the sea, and building on
the land which emerged as a result. The
lakes thus created are shallow and become a mosquito breeding ground in the
summer months. No amount of luxury can make one immune to mosquitos….
After breakfast, we head for the charming village of Sidi Bou Said where painters Auguste Macke and
Paul Klee, visionary artists of the early 20th century avant garde,
stayed and painted during their ‘Tunisian tour.’ The town became popular with
Turkish governors and wealthy Tunis residents in the 18th century,
and later it attracted artists with its picturesque white and blue houses. Sidi
is a title of respect for a man in Arabic, similar to “don” in Spanish. Apparently,
Sidi Bou Said was an important religious leader in Tunisia. This is a popular
tourist destination, and souvenir shops sell Tunisian arts and crafts, yet
there is still an authenticity to this place. It is perched on a hill
overlooking a small pleasure craft harbor, and Le Café des Délices has a
commanding view over both the harbor and the sea. We stop momentarily to admire
the view, but opt to descend along a road we spotted from above leading to the
port. There we sit down for a coffee in a terrace café where the typical
Tunisian cats make the rounds of the tables. Tunisians seem to be fond of cats,
for though they tend to live on the streets, they are fed and protected by the
citizens.
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| Sidi Bou Said |
We gave up our attempt to visit Tunis, and slowly crawled
out of the city, heading back to Carthage over a suspension bridge and causeway
traversing two inner lakes that separate Tunis from the Mediterranean Sea. I
asked Mohammed about his views on his country’s transition to democracy. He
told me that under the previous repressive government, any man sporting a beard
would be immediately under suspicion and could be detained for questioning, or
imprisoned regarding possible links to extremist groups. Now, despite greater
freedom, he feels there is much less security. Nevertheless, Mohammed later proudly
showed me a small motor boat he keeps moored in the Punic Harbor in Carthage, a
privilege only possible since the Arab Spring of 2011. Sure enough, photos in an older guidebook I
looked at showed this ancient military port void of any boats.
Mohammed next drove me to see the remains of an ancient Roman
oval amphitheater, the site of fights between gladiators and wild beasts. The
stone used throughout ancient Carthage is a warm yellow limestone, quarried in
nearby Cap Bon, a peninsula to the east which juts out into the Gulf of Tunis. The
seating has long since disappeared, carted away by ancient builders of
successive invasions to construct their own ideas of civilization.
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| Roman amphitheater in Carthage |
From the
amphitheater, we then continued on to the area known as Byrsa Hill, with the former
cathedral Saint Louis built in 1884 at the location where the King Saint Louis
was said to have died of the plague while participating in the 8th crusade ın
1270. This is located adjacent to the archeological site of the ancient
Carthaginian acropolis, a Carthaginian religious center in 800 BC later
destroyed in 146 BC by the Romans, and eventually rebuilt to Roman engineering
standards. Apparently, the Phoenicians
were so industrious and prospering to such an extent that Rome felt its
hegemony over the Mediterranean dangerously threatened. “Delenda
est Carthago” (“Carthage
must be destroyed”) was the popular motto of
2nd century BC Roman orators.
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| Cathédrale Saint Louis, no longer a place of worship, used for concerts |
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| on Byrsa Hill |
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| view from the ruins of the ancient Punic Acropolis above the port |
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An elder man, father of a friend of Mohammed and an experienced
tour guide, gave me an excellent history of the site and encouraged me to visit
the museum there, The National Museum of Carthage wıth artifacts found on the
site. He explained that the new Roman city of Carthage was built on the
ruins of the Phoenician city, and by the 1st century AD it had grown to become
the second largest city in the western half of the Roman Empire, with a
population which reached 500,000. It was the economic and cultural center of the
Roman province of Africa, and an important source of grain, olive oil, and
wine, known as the “breadbasket of the Roman Empire.”
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| mosaic at entrance to The National Museum of Carthage |
While the artifacts were indeed worth a visit, my attention
was drawn by a loud meowing in the second floor of the museum. Mohammed and I
searched around, and discovered a hole near the floor in the lower portion of a
display case. Peering out was a mother
cat, protecting her litter of kittens!
This was not to be my only surprise discovery of cats and museum sites
in Tunisia (stay tuned!)
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| Mama cat with kittens under display on 2nd floor of The National Museum of Carthage | | |
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On the way back to the house, Mohammed took us for a quick
visit to Le Port Punique (The Punic Port) of the ancient Carthaginians located
in the same neighborhood, just a block away. There the Phoenicians, who
were master traders and sailors, had built an ingenious round port with a
central island opposite the narrow entrance to the sea, from which the
admiralty kept watch day and night. The Phoenicians lived in harmony wıth the
nomadic Numidians (the ancient peoples of today’s Libya) who provided olive oil
and grain for trade in exchange for protection and goods imported by the
Phoenician traders from all around the Mediterranean basin. The archeological
site entrance was closed when we arrived, so Mohammed pointed out his little
boat moored there, and then drove us past his house and working garage nearby,
inherited from his now deceased father.
The manager of his garage gave us a friendly wave.
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| Le Port Punique, once the ancient port of the Phoenicians |
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| the small pleasure boats have only been permitted since The Tunisian Revolution of 2010 that initiated The Arab Spring |
Sunday, March 29
Today was the day of the planned solidarity march against
terrorism in Tunis. Just as thousands marched in Paris after the attack there
in January on the offices of the French satirical newspaper Charlie Hebdo,
proclaiming “Je suis Charlie,” a similar show of support was planned for
Tunisia, which was a French protectorate from 1881 until 1956 when Tunisia
gained its independence. French
President François Hollande joined democratically elected Tunisian Prime Minister Beji Caid
Essebsi, along with Gabonese President Ali Bongo, Palestinian President Mahmoud
Abbas, Polish President Bronislaw Komorowski, Italian Prime Minister Matteo
Renzi and numerous other state leaders, foreign ministers, ambassadors and
other dignitaries to pay homage to the twenty-three victims of the attack on
the Bardo Museum on March 18. (Hollande announced at the end of the march that
another French victim had just died in the hospital, bringing the death toll to
23.) If you are not aware of this tragedy, you can read about it at the
following links:
News reports estimated that
nearly 15,000 people marched through the main thoroughfare of Tunis to proclaim
no tolerance for terrorism in their country.
Tunisia was the ‘birthplace’ of the Arab Spring which ousted
longtime president Ben Ali who fled the country in January 2011 amid massive
protests to live in permanent exile in Saudi Arabia. Mohammed had also shown me
the boarded up house of Ben Ali’s mother-in-law, which is also located in
Carthage. It seems that during the
Tunisian Revolution in December 2010, people stormed into the house which had
already been abandoned when the family of the former president fled into exile. I find my visit to Tunis a curious and
fascinating mixture of absorbing ancient history through archeological
artifacts, blended with snatches of firsthand accounts of recent
historical-political events, while yet another history in the making is unraveling
before my eyes.
On this sunny Sunday, Mohammed’s friend Mouz is my driver. I
go to visit “Les Thermes d’Antonin” (Antonine’s Baths) in Carthage, a huge Roman
bath complex begun at the time of Emperor Hadrian (76-138 AD). When completed,
they were the largest outside Rome. Today, it lies in ruins with a fantastic
view over the sea, surrounded by lush, overgrown gardens. I discover to my
surprise that we visitors can wander at leisure among the limestone foundations
and clamber over fallen columns with no guards or guides to hinder us. Other than a small group of Canadians from Québec
who happily proclaim that it feels like summer in comparison to the subzero
temperatures they have just escaped, I am alone here in this once sumptuous
place. The floorplan shows that the
baths were laid out symmetrically, with one set of heated rooms mirroring the
other in a series of vestiariums, frigidariums, tepidariums and caldariums leading
to hot pools, sports halls, and a large swimming pool. The entire vast complex
was heated by an ingenious underground system of furnaces.
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| scale model of Antonine's Baths as they would have looked in 200 AD |
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| wall surrounding the Tunisian President's residence in Carthage, just next to the baths |
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| the ever-present military police, heightened security |
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| large columns from the frigidarium |
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| mosaic under my feet at Antonine's Baths |
After strolling through the ruins, I headed for a small café
on the grounds where I encountered several cats issuing territorial warnings. As I watched them spatting and hissing, the
proprietress of the café beckoned me to enter…”Venez, Madame.” (Come
here…) I followed her inside after
ordering a cappuccino to drink in the sunny garden, and watched in amazement as
she opened what appeared to be a kitchen cabinet behind the bar’s counter to
reveal a mother cat and her tiny newborn kittens, their eyes still sealed. With
the cupboard open, the mother cat stood up to stretch her legs, and sauntered
out for a bite to eat. The kind
proprietress fussed and petted her, and seemed undaunted when the cat leaped
onto the counter of the bar, rubbing her chin and body affectionately on her
mistress/protectress’ hands.
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| the café on the grounds of Antonine's Baths |
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| café entrance and feline hangout |
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| a friendly male who joined me for a cappuccino :-) |
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| newborn kittens in the cupboard behind the bar! |
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| Mama kitty |
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| This is the proprietress of the café and Mama kitty who is treated like a princess |
From the baths, I made a quick visit to another small
archeological site just a few meters away known as “Le Quartier Magon” which
contains the foundations of ancient punic seaside villas from pre-Roman times
where square pillars were used instead of round Roman columns. The most
interesting sight here is a small model of an ancient limestone quarry with
tiny figures showing how the stone was extracted for use as building material
in Phoenician Carthage.
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| El Haouaria in Cap Bon, ancient underground quarry used to supply building material for Carthage scale 1:100 |
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| just across the street from "Le Quartier Magon" |
With the lovely weather, we moved on to yet another site
listed on the day pass ticket for ten dinars (five euros) known as “Les villas
romaines.” I wandered in to the nearly empty site, traversing mosaicked
walkways leading to a long and narrow covered passageway that was lined with
ancient mosaics stacked up to 6 or 7 layers thick on either side! There must have been more than one hundred of
these large fragments, each with unique geometric patterns or floral
motifs. I was in awe!
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| Les Villas Romaines, Carthage |
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| the amazing storage room of mosaics at "les villas romaines" |
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| ancient Roman mosaics stacked seven layers deep |
I finally stumbled
out of this forgotten treasure trove into the sunshine to continue up a
stairway to a higher vantage point where statue fragments punctuated an
impressive panorama of the sea from the terrace garden of a magnificent villa,
partially reconstructed around a courtyard lined with mosaics featuring a
variety of birds. Here, as I took
photos, a museum guard saw my interest and began to tell me a bit of Carthaginian
history. He asked me where I was from,
and beamed broadly when I said I was American.
He said that as a young boy he had received medical care from American
doctors aboard a ship called Hope sent from the U.S. to Tunisia during the
presidency of John F. Kennedy. I did a
little research based on his personal story, and found the following
information, courtesy of Wikipedia:
The USS Hope
(AH-7) is not to be confused with the USS Consolation (AH-15), in
service from 1945 to 1975, and operated by Project HOPE between March 1960 and
September 1974 under charter as the civilian hospital ship Hope. It
completed 11 voyages between 1960 and 1973, traveling to Indonesia, South
Vietnam, Peru, Ecuador, Guinea, Nicaragua, Colombia, Sri Lanka, Tunisia,
Jamaica, and Brazil.
He spoke proudly of the site, explaining that it had been
Hadrian’s villa in Carthage, a city the emperor liked immensely and in which he
spent three to four months per year. I have not been able to confirm this
particular version of history, as it is referred to as “The Villa of the
Aviary” in the book I purchased on the history of ancient Carthage;
nevertheless, it is a luxurious villa with a private pool, and beautifully
detailed mosaics attesting to the wealth and importance of its inhabitants long
ago. As I spoke with this enthusiastic
guard, alternating between French and English, he told me of plans to create an
interior exhibit space to display the mosaics I had seen in storage. I found
myself wondering how and when this will be possible in this struggling country,
dealt such an unjust blow by terrorism. When I asked his point of view, this older
Tunisian disagreed with Mohammed on the issue of whether life was better under
the previous strong-arm government of Ben Ali. He was optimistic about the new
democracy, and felt that Tunisia was as safe for its citizens as many western
societies. I certainly had to agree that
the U.S., for all its boastfulness as a land of democratic freedom, is not a
place where people can walk freely through its cities at night without
fear.
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| this area has been restored to give an idea of the luxurious villa |
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| mosaic floor at the Villa of the Aviary |
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| pheasant and rooster |
Just behind the Roman Villas site, a new mosque known as El
Abidine was built in 2003, using a design and materials which reflect and
respect the natural landscape and neighboring antiquities. It is well-seen along the main road to and
from the Tunis/Carthage Airport, and its minaret and cupola can be seen from
the Villa of the Aviary.
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| El Abidine Mosque, 2003 |
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| mama cat and kittens in the shop of a glassblowing studio |
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| garden of the glassblowers' studio |
As promised, we returned to the ‘Port Punique’ to pay a proper
visit to the site, and after walking through the open gate, I was immediately
greeted by a tall, slender man working at the site who noted my accent in
French and asked whether I was American. I told him I was disappointed that my
origin was so obvious, as generally I am told that I speak French well. He
assured me that it was only because he has spoken with many tourists and has
trained his ears to note even the slightest of accents. At any rate, we were soon in a lively
discussion about the history of the port, and when I quoted ‘an older guide I
met on the Byrsa Hill yesterday,’ this younger man asked me if he resembled the
older man I had spoken with. “That is my father,” he told me with a smile. As it turns out, this man is a friend of
Mohammed, my first driver. He answered my questions about the two models of the
port, Phoenician and Roman, with the same passionate enthusiasm as his father,
and went on to describe how Hannibal Barca, a Punic Carthaginian military commander, and generally
considered one of the greatest military commanders in history, was responsible for the founding of the Spanish
Catalan city of Barcelona. The story goes that it was actually Hannibal’s
father, Hamilcar Barca, that named the city Barcino after his family in the
third century BC.
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| scenes around the Punic Port |
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| It is difficult to imagine that this grass-covered island.... |
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| once looked like this! (Phoenician Port as it would have looked around 300 BC) |
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After the Romans destroyed the port of their rivals in 146 BC, they rebuilt it like this
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Monday, March 30
Today Mouz drove into the center of Tunis for a visit to the
Medina, the narrow, winding pedestrian streets of old Tunis, crammed with
merchants in the souks (Turkish style markets), numerous mosques, palaces, and
the medersa, or theological schools of Islamic study. On the way, I observed the city streets from
the comfort of the car as a privileged passenger. We were frequently stuck in traffic, creeping
forward like oozing mud. This allowed me
time to note the plastered houses with their distinctly Moorish flavor….keyhole
arches, colonnades, colorful tilework, creams and whites punctuated by bright
blue, green or yellow doorways. Of
course, many of these in the city center are battered by time and neglect. I spot a pickup truck heavily loaded which
looks as if it is about to collapse with exhaustion….an elderly lady on the
sidewalk sits behind her improvised display of “waistbands” in identical boxes
lined in rows on a plywood sheet propped up on cardboard boxes. I wonder how many waistbands she will manage
to sell today.
The streets are full of cars, and Mouz tells me that he has
heard that despite the weak economy, the number of cars in Tunis continues to
grow. We make our way to the Bab el Bahr or Porte de France, a large arch that
marks the entrance to the Medina, flanked by the French Embassy on the left,
and the Cathédrale Saint Vincent on the right. Mouz manages to park the car, a ‘monstrous’
four-door crossover KIA, illegally on a median in the middle of Avenue Habib
Bourguiba. He will wait there to watch over the vehicle. Entering the Medina is a bit like wandering
in a labyrinth, though the main route leads directly up to the Great Mosque, known
as Jemaa ez Zitouna (literally, The Mosque of the Olive Tree). On the way,
vendors call out to me from both sides of the narrow cobbled street, wide
enough only for foot traffic. “Madame!
Madame!” They want to sell me pottery, leather goods, incense, perfume
essences, ornate mirrors, tapestries, oriental carpets, embroidered caftans….I
look straight forward and continue on my to the mosque. I will succumb to temptations later…
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| La Porte de France marks the entrance to the Medina of Tunis |
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| The Great Mosque of Tunis, Jemaa ez Zitouna (The Mosque of the Olive Tree) |
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| Souk in the Medina |
In the small courtyard in front of the mosque, I find a tile
map of the Medina on the wall, which I pause to photograph and study. A small,
middle-aged man approaches and offers to show me how to reach a rooftop view of
the great mosque’s inner courtyard, as most all mosques are closed to
non-Muslims, and the great mosque’s only inner viewing area is closed today to
visitors. I decide to follow him, realizing that I will surely have to pay for
this service. He leads me on a twisting
route past shops selling gold jewelry, arcades lined with cafés and
perfumeries, crowds of people flowing steadily, mostly Tunisians as far as I
can discern. We stop to admire large
wooden doors characteristically studded with iron nails in traditional patterns
of stars, crescent moons, Moorish arches and ornate patterns. These mark the
entrances to mosques, mausoleums, medersa, and former homes of the wealthy who
inhabited this district during its peak as a great Islamic city from the 12th
to the 16th centuries. This
is a UNESCO World Heritage site and contains most of the 700 historic monuments
of the city.
We finally reach the entrance to the so-called “Turkish
Museum” which in reality is an antique shop on several levels. Here, my guide pointed out a large carved and
gilded wooden bed which he claimed belonged to the sultan, with room for his
four wives! “You may take a picture,” my guide instructed, but I didn’t. We
continued to climb the stairs to reach the tiled rooftop, emerging into the
bright sunlight to a worthy view of the surrounding roofs, punctuated by
cupolas and minarets of the numerous mosques.
The guide informed me that the square minarets denoted an arab-style
mosque, while the octagonal minarets were built in Turkish style. The inner courtyard of the Great Mosque could
be seen thus from above with its colonnaded arches. It is the largest mosque in Tunis, with more
than 5,000 square meters, and its outer wall was built using stones taken from
various sites in Carthage. Most of the mosque was built in the 9th
century, but its famous minaret exists only since the 19th century.
It was in the Great Mosque that an important Muslim theological university
flourished throughout the 13th and 14th centuries,
drawing students from all over the Muslim world, and continued to function
until the 1950s when it was closed by President Bourguiba in order to reduce
religious influence on the country. From this rooftop vantage point, the
minarets of Sidi Youssef Mosque and Hammouda Pacha Mosque are clearly seen.
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| inner courtyard of The Great Mosque seen from the rooftop of an antique shop |
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| cupola of one of the medersa |
Despite my better judgment, I continued to tag along after
my guide, who led me to the glass door of a mosque where we peered in at a
bearded imam sitting barefooted on cushions in the corner who glared back at
us. My guide told me that he is Muslim
but does not practice his religion and rarely enters a mosque. Tunisians are very tolerant. Here varying
degrees of religiosity are tolerated, and though the call to prayer issues five
times per day, there is no obligation except one’s own individual moral conscience.
Women also dress according to their own practice. Many are completely western while others wear
hijab, or a headscarf and long body-concealing clothes. I did not see any woman in a burka anywhere
in Tunis. If you would like to know more
about Muslim traditional head covering for women, check out the following
website:
My self-appointed guide led me on a brisk-paced tour past
many of the most important sites of the Medina, including passage through the
famous Chechia Souk from the 17th century. Chechia is the name of the flexible red hat
worn by men in Tunisia, not to be confused with the hard conical red hats worn
in Turkey, known as fez. We also visited
the ‘souk des parfumeurs’ where I found myself being led through the doors of
an old perfumery. Here, as I found out
through questioning, the cousin of my guide demonstrated how dried flowers and
herbs were placed in a copper boiler atop a slow-burning flame, in a
traditional steam distillation process that results in condensed essential
oils. A smooth-talking salesman, my host soon had me convinced that my visit
merited a purchase from among the many alluring scents he whisked under my
nose, deftly passing a lighted match over the bottles of oil to prove that they
were pure and contained no alcohol when the match flickered out. In the end, I
chose two small flasks, jasmine for Sophia and Sidi Bou Said for me, a light
flowery scent reminiscent of the blue and white village I had visited.
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| another of the many medersa or theological schools |
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| this door is a masterpiece |
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| in the Souk des Parfumeurs, buying essential oils |
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| The Souk des Chechia, traditional men's hats |
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| man wearing a chechia |
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| Hamouda Pacha Mosque |
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| According to Muslim tradition, yellow is the color that 'pleases God' |
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| a sweet seller in the Medina...I bought date-filled cookies here |
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| the octagonal minaret is Turkish style |
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| the man seen here was my guide |
At an undetermined appointed time, my guide announced that
our tour of the Medina was finished, and indicated how I could find my way back
to the Porte de France where the driver awaited me. “Je vous dois combien, monsieur?” (How much do
I owe you?) “C’est comme vous voulez, Madame,” (As you wish) he replied. When I
handed him 20 dinars (10 euros), however, he insisted that it was not enough,
and that 20 more were needed. Oh well, I
thought, as I surrendered another 20 dinar bill into the gentleman’s eager
palm, and he quickly bid me farewell and disappeared. I might not have found so
many nail-studded doors or the lovely tile rooftop without his help.
As I made my way back through the souk, I managed to allow
myself to be distracted by a pottery shop where I bargained successfully for
two hand-painted bowls and a special serving platter with puzzle-like fitted
serving dishes. The colors are earthy
and spiked with red and turquoise in a pattern and style typical of Djerba
in southern Tunisia.
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| pottery serving dish in 8 pieces I purchased in the Medina for 35 dinars (17.50 euros) |
I also bartered for some tiny bright yellow leather slippers,
hand sewn, for my little Greek goddaughter.
When I finally emerged from the Medina to find Mouz, my wallet was a bit
lighter and my load a bit heavier now that I carried my ceramic purchases!
While waiting in the car, Mouz had heard on the radio that
The Bardo Museum had officially reopened to the public today, and was offering
free entrance. This was an unusual opening, as the museum is normally closed on
Mondays, as are many art museums throughout the world. We decided to head there directly, as the
museum is very near the Medina, and the timing and opportunity was right. When
we entered through the gates, security guards stopped us with friendly greetings,
and passed a special detector around the edges of our vehicle. They did not search the car. Mouz let me out just in front of the door to
the modern addition where just twelve days earlier the ground had been stained
in blood.
Now the entrance was filled with flowers and flags
representing the victims’ nationalities, and a memorial plaque had been hung on
the wall to the left, draped in red cloth, and bearing the full names and
nationalities of those who had perished. It was a startling and somber
reminder.
As I entered, I was asked to
put my purse through the x-ray machine, and I passed through a metal detector,
and was scan-searched. The guards were polite and relaxed. It was hard to imagine the horror that had
occurred here just days earlier.
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| Entrance to the Bardo Museum filled with flowers for the victims of the terrorist attack, March 18 |
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| new wing of the Bardo Museum, opened in 2012 |
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| interior of new wing of the Bardo Museum |
Once inside, a museum employee warned me that they would be
closing in 30 minutes, so I hurried through the exhibit rooms, trying to take
in the highlights. I didn’t have a
proper orientation, and later discovered after reading a small book I purchased
in a bookshop that I had missed a number of important rooms filled with
masterful Roman mosaics, known to be the world’s greatest such collection. Many
of the buildings of the Bardo Museum complex, located adjacent to the Tunisian
Parliament, were built for the
Beys, vassal-kings who ruled the area on behalf of the Ottoman Empire from the
early 18th century. Some of the
buildings date back to the 14th century, but the bulk of the
treasures housed inside is far older. In
2012, a new modern wing was completed at the cost of 10 million euros, doubling
the exhibition space. This project was
part of an ambitious plan to increase cultural tourism to Tunisia which had previously
been based almost entirely on seaside resort tourism. With the advent of the Arab Spring and the
latest tragedy inside the museum’s own doors, the dream of showcasing Tunisia’s
rich and varied cultural history has sadly diminished.
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| traditional door decoration displayed in the Bardo |
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| The Carthage Room |
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| Althiburos Room or Music Room of the Bardo Museum |
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| Italo-Tunisian decoration of ceiling of upper tribunal of the Althiburos, reserved for the princesses |
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| exterior view of the original Bardo Museum |
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| Astrological mosaic, showing my sign, Cancer the crab |
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| sea life mosaic |
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| Tanit, the Phoenician goddess of love, fertility, the moon and the stars |
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| terra cotta mask from 4th century BC |
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| votive stele, 4th century BC Carthage, dedication made by faithful perfumer to Baal Hammon and Tanit |
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| considered the "Mona Lisa" of the Bardo collection, the only known depiction of Virgil |
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| Virgil, the great Roman poet (1st century BC) |
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| This mosaic was found in 1896 in Hadrumentum, just centimeters below the ground in the ruins of a 3rd century AD mansion, where it adorned the reception alcove of the atrium |
The last stop for today was a
stroll up one side and down the other of Tunis’ broad, tree-lined Avenue Habib
Bourguiba, known as the “Champs Elysées” of Tunis, though the resemblance with
its Parisian nemesis requires a good deal of imagination. I also crossed to the central pedestrian
walkway and photographed the distinctive clocktower that marks the entrance to
the avenue at the opposite end from the Medina. Along the way, I encountered
barbed wire barricades to protect government buildings, and saw armed soldiers
standing guard behind a wall of sandbags.
I took a photo of this barricade
from a distance, zooming in as close as I could. A few moments later, as I strolled through
the late afternoon crowds, a uniformed soldier approached me, accompanied by a
friend, and said, “C’est permi faire des photos, Madame.” (Photos are permitted, Ma’am.) I wasn’t sure how to respond to this
provocation. He was telling me what I
had presumed…”Oui, je le sais,” (Yes, I know that) I replied, and continued on
my way. I think they thought they could
frighten me a bit for a little fun!
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| Cathédrale Saint Vincent de Paul |
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| along Avenue Habib Bourguiba |
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| clock tower on Avenue Habib Bourguiba |
Tuesday, March 31
A rather lazy day for a change….breakfast on
the lovely terrace in the garden…the sun was warm and strong, and I found
myself compelled to arrange some pillows and cushions on a slatted wooden
sunbed, and flop down to read. I was
soon too hot in my jeans, and remembered that I had brought a bathing suit…au
cas ou…just in case! I looked at the thermometer in the shade….24 degrees!
Within an hour it had risen to 27 degrees Celsius, and I was sprawled in my
bikini in full sunbathing mode! It felt
so good to be soaking in the sunshine after days of cold cloudy skies in
Brussels. Though the sun was warm, I could tell that this early spring sunshine
was not too severe, so I remained exposed for more than one hour with no
sunscreen and did not get burned.
Delightful!
In the early afternoon, we went
for lunch at a Lebanese restaurant in Les Berges du Lac II, then drove to a
lovely hotel with a bar and restaurant overlooking the sea to enjoy a beer and
take in the view. All in all, a quiet,
restful day to relax and reflect.
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| veranda and garden of the house in Carthage |
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| View from the bar over the Gulf of Tunis |
Wednesday, April 1
April Fool´s Day…Les Poissons d’Avril….but
no fooling around today, as it is my last day in Tunisia, and I realize that I
have not yet tasted an authentic Tunisian couscous, and I still need to return
to the Bardo Museum to see those outstanding Roman mosaics. I have no time to
lose! As a courtesy to my host, I wait around for a pool repairman to show up,
who must be let in through the garden door.
He was supposed to come at 10:00 am but rings the bell at 11:00….oh well….TIT
(This is Tunisia) as the expats here say.
He checks the pool for 5 minutes and leaves…he says he must wait until
the water level stops falling, indicating that the level of the leak has been
reached. This seems logical…
After he departs, we are off to
the city center again, heading directly to the Bardo Museum this time. I will not write too detailed a commentary
here, but will let my photos speak for themselves. The little guidebook to the museum that I
purchased in a downtown bookshop gave me a very good orientation to the art
form and the museum’s treasures. I will
include some of this knowledge thus acquired here.
“Rome
conquered Greece, but it was Greece that conquered Rome.”
The word mosaic comes from a
deformation in the Latin transcription of the Greek word “moysa” or “mousa” –
in other words, muse – a semi-divine being serving as artistic inspiration. It was, of course, the Greeks who elevated
this decorative form to the level of art in the 8th century BC. At
that time, mosaics consisted principally of the careful placement of white and
black stones on the floors of dwellings. This technique had an even earlier
origin: black, yellow and ochre colored terracotta shards were found in Asia
Minor, Egypt and Crete, probably used to decorate palace façades.
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| Daniel in the Lions' Den, Old Testament theme from the Mausoleum of Bord El Youdi, 4th century AD |
This tradition was adopted and
perfected by the Romans, who were the first to produce the small, finely cut square
stones and colored glass used to create their mosaic masterpieces. These square tiles with a chromatic range of highly
nuanced colors allowed the Romans to create true paintings in stone. Mosaics
thus very quickly became a high art form in Rome, considered on the same
artistic level as sculpture and painting, and undoubtedly one of the most
representative forms of artistic expression of antiquity. Likewise, in Tunisia,
many schools of mosaic creation developed and their works can be found
throughout the country. The mosaic
tradition left its mark not only through Roman creations, but Christian and
Muslim creations that came later.
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| Dionysos punishes the pirates of the Tyrrhenian Sea by transforming them into dolphins, 4th century AD |
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| seahorses |
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| still life in mosaic |
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| Cyclops |
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| Neptune and the Four Seasons, 3rd century AD, 4.90 x 4.85 meters |
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| Neptune is flanked by a triton and a nereid |
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| Sousse Room, the ceiling consists of 16 marquetry panels |
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| mosaic found at Tabarka, depicting an elegant home belonging to a gentleman, 4-5th century Ad |
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| Mosaic found in Carthage represents the property of Sir Julius |
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| view from a museum window |
In the rooms containing precious
bronze statues from the 3rd century AD, the glass cases had taken
bullets during the shootout between the terrorists and Tunisian police. So too had the walls, and I photographed
these stark reminders of the recent violence.
I was surprised that the museum administration had these damaged
displays on view to the public, but I suppose they wanted us to be able to see
the artifacts we had come to view, and there had been little time to repair the
broken glass and bullet-riddled walls. The feet of the bronze statue of a young
Dionysus were covered in tiny shards of shattered glass that had yet to be
carefully cleaned by a trained art historian.
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| the base of the bronze sculpture of young Dionysos, 2-3rd century AD |
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| foreground shows bust of Vespasian, 1st century AD |
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| Bust of Lucius Verus |
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| terra cotta lamp in the form of a boat |
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| Muslim grave inscription |
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| Apollo and the serpent, 2nd century AD |
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| interior of the new wing of the Bardo Museum |
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| detail of a drunken Dionysos held by a satyr |
My second and very satisfying visit
to the Bardo Museum was complete. I had
thoroughly examined all the works that interested me, and inspected the physical
traces left by the attackers and the police team that pursued them and
liberated the hostages held in the museum. I was now ready to enter the Medina
once more to find a restaurant recommended to me as the ideal place to taste
Tunisian cuisine in a lovely, relaxed atmosphere. Mouz dropped me off just behind the Great
Mosque Jemaa ez Zitouna to enter from above and wind my way to the small street
called Souk el Attarine (le Souk des Parfumeurs) and the Fondouk El
Attarine. Once through the double glass
doors, I found myself in an oasis of quiet and refinement, away from the
colorful noise of the merchants in the souks. Lunch was being served in the
calm of an inner courtyard garden by white -aproned
waitresses and waiters in crisp white
shirts and neat black bowties. I was
seated along the wall with a perfect view of the surroundings, and ordered the
three-course menu at 29 dinars (15 euros) proposed on a black portable
chalkboard. I ordered the roasted
eggplant salad as my entrée, a couccous au poisson for my main dish, and a
dessert called zriga made with milk, eggs and sugar and sprinkled with ground
pistachios. A choice of tea or coffee was included, and I ended my hearty meal
with a soothing minted tea.
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| entering the Medina from behind the Great Mosque |
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| lunch in the Fondouk El Attarine in the Medina |
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| Tunisian couscous au poisson |
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| dessert was zriga sprinkled with pistachios, and minted tea |
Thursday morning, April 2
I leave Tunisia enriched by my experiences
here….3,000 years of human history still visible in its layers of ingenuity in
architecture and engineering, resilient mosaics and artifacts that have endured
centuries and even milleniums…and resilient Tunisian people who reject
terrorism and embrace their new democracy.
At the helm is a wise and courageous Prime Minister who will not give in
to the cowardly and barbarous acts of a few who would try to destroy what so
many have built and maintained through hard work and passion. I would add myself to the list of admirers
who say “Je suis Bardo” in solidarity with the Tunisian people in their effort
to grow and prosper towards a better future for themselves and for us all.
I would like to return to Tunisia
and explore more of this fascinating country.
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| Tunis/Carthage seen from the plane |
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| bird's eye view |
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| clouds can look like snow from above... |
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| Farewell Tunisia! |
Tunisia was the ‘birthplace’ of the Arab Spring which ousted
longtime president Ben Ali who fled the country in January 2011 amid massive
protests to live in permanent exile in Saudi Arabia. Mohammed had also shown me
the boarded up house of Ben Ali’s mother-in-law, which is also located in
Carthage. It seems that during the
Tunisian Revolution in December 2010, people stormed into the house which had
already been abandoned when the family of the former president fled into exile. I find my visit to Tunis a curious and
fascinating mixture of absorbing ancient history through archeological
artifacts, blended with snatches of firsthand accounts of recent
historical-political events, while yet another history in the making is unraveling
before my eyes.
