Hello dear readers! It is I once again. I apologize for not having updated in a while, but the places I have been had little in the way of internet access and unexpected shutdowns have dashed any hopes of earlier drafts, because I am writing these on notepad, which is not very conducive to successful file recovery. Nevertheless, I will be sure to thrill you with my many tales which I have from the coast of Tunisia!
We last left off on Sunday, when I was in the city of Kairouan, the religious heart of Tunisia. We headed off early as ever, and made our first visit to the Aghlabid Basins, a pair of thousand year old cisterns, just outside of the medina. They're pretty self explanatory as a whole, so I won't linger on them. After this, we visited the Sidi Sahbi Mausoleum, a place of veneration for Abu Zama' al-Balaui, known colloquially as "Muhammad's Barber." This name is somewhat misleading however, as he was really called this because of his tendancy to carry three of Muhammad's hairs around with him. I can't say what exactly he intended to accomplish with this practice, but it wasn't doing any harm, so to each their own I suppose.
The mausoleum was decorated in the Ottoman style, as the pictures will relate, with intricate tiling, plasterwork and chandeliers, and there were some interesting sights such as a man distributing orange water for purification and an eagle tethered to the exterior for some reason. The most interesting thing, however, were the circumcision rituals, of which there were a couple when we visited. They are performed in such a manner: a whole host of children and their parents form a procession, singing, ululating, beating drums and ringing bells. The guest of honor who is around 2-6 years old, dressed in traditional clothes, and presumably ignorant of what he's in for leads the procession, hand in hand with his proud parents. Once they arrive in the main courtyard of the mosque, an imam gives a short sermon, the nature of which I am not aware, as I don't speak Arabic. Hence, they go inside the mosque, and I am told that just as the sorry bugger is getting clipped, they smash open a jar of candy for the other children, so the clamor of the kids and the general piñatic confusion drowns out the screams of pain, (I can't imagine there would be much candy left for the poor lad himself in any case).
After we finished at the Mausoleum, we turned our attention again to the Great Mosque of Kairouan. Unlike the night before, where we just watched the exterior, this time we were able to go inside. I have to say that I am not overly fond of the mosques here, I find that they are a bit dull. The great stone courtyard, surrounded by columns and arches (the former of which, by the way, were stolen from the Romans and haphazardly place around) completely unadorned by artwork or gardens or anything mildly interesting does not inspire any particular love in me. There is usually some sort of calligraphy surrounding the perimeter, but as it is usually carved from the same unpainted stone, and since I can't read Arabic, neither the words nor the lettering is inspiring. I should think that the interior of the mosque, coated with tapestries, lit by oil chandeliers and with intricate woodwork arching on the ceiling overhead would be more to my taste, but alas, converting to Islam simply to admire the interiors seems a bit excessive to me.
Once we concluded our business in the Great Mosque, we made a short stint down to a rug shop which is a favorite of our professor. When we entered, a huge man, who had christened himself Jabba, brought us past a woman painstakingly weaving a rug on an wooden loom and into a room filled with tapestries. There he served us thé à la menthe, and began to show us his wares. His assistants probably threw at least two score rugs on the floor, while he exclaimed the various designs, sizes, materials and thread counts, all while refusing to discuss price as a good host always does. I always am wary of goods that don't come with a price, as it implies that the people who tend to buy it can afford to not be mindful of price. However much time or effort it took these people to weave their own rugs, I am not overly keen to spend several hundred dollars on something someone's going to walk on, and so I myself left without purchase.
Sunday concluded with a lecture on gender in the country, in the same cells which we had smoked hookah the night before.While it certainly was a chic place for a few friends to spend their time, stuffing 31 people into a single cell was a bit more uncomfortable, especially since this seemed to be a particularly enthralling topic for some, who asked questions with no regard for the sore haunches of their class mates. Such is life I suppose.
The next day we departed from our beloved hotel in Kairouan and made south to Sousse. We stopped early in the morning to trek through its medina, with the same rows of tourist trinkets and bootleg clothes as is in every medina, and visited the Great Mosque of Sousse with the same square minaret which you find in North Africa and the same dull unadorned courtyard. The one highlight of Monday morning was the small fort nearby the mosque, called a Ribat. The fortifications themselves climbed several stories, and there was a tall lookout tower which overlooked the port. The path up this narrow turret was a small, dark spiral staircase, slippery with well worn steps through which simultaneously going in opposite directions was nearly impossible, and our huge group very nearly overburdened it with even just a fifth of our number on top of it at once. Some among us, upon reaching the top had to cling tightly to the columns in the center of the tower and sink below the outer wall to block out the delicate height.
Once we finished with the ribat, having had a brief lecture on the founder of modern Tunisia, Bourguiba, on the dusty floor of the castle's former mosque, we headed further along the city, where the plastered brick apartments and old French-built edifices slowly grew sick with the trappings of tourism. We arrived at our hotel, which I deem to be the ugliest building which I have seen on the trip so far. I will detail this atrocity in all its ignoblility in a moment, but first I will describe out afternoon excursion to Bourgiba's tomb. It is not in Sousse, but rather the city of Monastir directly across from a Casaba where Life of Brian was filmed, which we could not visit on account of some recent earthquake damage. The tomb itself takes up the better part of a cemetary, on land which was rather unceremoniously appropriated from the local dead. The approach is rather like the Taj Mahal, with tall minarets flanking the main mausoleum. it is decorated in fine marbles with gilded engravings. The central hall has the tomb itself, which is just for show (he is buried beneath it in the earth, as is Muslim custom), and behind it was an open quoran on a pedestal with an empty chair for whomever would wish to read it (which, since the entire thing was roped off, amounted to no one). Behind the tomb, there is a small museum with various artifacts from his life, as well as the photos from his state visits. A tomb fit for a good prince, as he is often credited.
Now then, as to the hotel. It is a massive structure, and the interior lobby is the height of opulence, coated with marble and glimmering brass chandeliers and littered with tasteful furniture. When you arrive they serve you some beverage which can only be described a melted popsicle. As you fill out your travel information (including, worryingly, your passport information), you begin to notice your fellow guests. They are corpulent individuals, generally, lobster red and wearing far too little over their gaudy swimsuits for anyone's taste. They seem to be Russians and Germans mostly, looking for a little more sun than their pasty white skin can bear. You begin to realize too that these people are only here for the sunny beaches, and care for little else. As you settle in to your room, a dizzying walk from the main lobby, which is hastily built and has all the charm of a Motel 8, you begin to see the fraying seams of the place. Their "all inclusive" policy seems to be lacking in anything exciting or useful, as the spa, most sports, and even the laundry is extra. While they serve free drinks, it is largely vinegar and bathtub gin, and the food there is poorly prepared and devoid of any cuisine which may challenge the delicate palates of the middle-aged middle-class guests who gulp both food and drink down with reckless abandon. In the evening there is an unnerving "cabaret" show (20 dinars extra, of course) for which a few poor sods from the cast were tasked to collect their audience. Over all the experience was that of a modern day lotus-trap, for the weary German middle manager, and I was grateful that the next day was an early morning departure.
We left Sousse at dawn the following morning after a quick breakfast of whatever bread they had bothered to put out at that time of morning. We first visited the Amphitheater at El Jem, which began to flood with tourists even that early in the day. The amphitheater is rather well preserved, and I am sure that I needn't describe it to you in great detail. Among the interesting characters there, however, were a flock of Russians who, with their customary disregard for borders, climbed over the iron fence to make stupid looking poses for the camera on top of the ruins. There was also a rather foul tempered camel owner who would watch for some unsuspecting tourist to take a picture of his beast, before he would rush up and demand of him a dinar for the privilege. The camel, however, was visible from the amphitheater, and so I took several pictures of the animal just to spite him.
After this, we began to make our long trek to the island of Jerba. On the way we visited yet another museum of mosaics, in which I learned a great deal about ants, our guide's university, where we took a picture and then spent half an hour maneuvering our bus out of the miniscule driveway and a ferry which we made use of, much to the amusement of everyone. We arrived to our hotel late that night. It was another tourist trap, the same such as was in Sousse, and while their 15kb/s internet cost 4 dinars to use, it was thankfully devoid of anyone other than our group and a few other token guests, who, being Muslim, were much more sensible about their apparel.
The next day on Jerba was a lazy one, as we had nothing to visit and only a short lecture to attend.
While I myself took the opportunity to do nothing at all (save for vainly writing my first draft of this blog), there was one exciting adventure after dinner. I and three other brave compatriots decided to make a trial of a Turkish bath, known as a Hammam. Many of the girls had gone earlier that day, and had given their approval and we decided to go later in the evening, when the men were bathing. Our guide warned us to go early in the evening, as the baths tend to get a bit too... thorough later at night. So, somewhat wary, we hail a cab and drive into the city, all of us unaware of to where we were going. We are dropped off at a small, sketchy storefront, and we go in. Unfortunately, none of us spoke Arabic, and only one of us spoke French, and so a surly clerk took our money and gave us locker keys directing us to the next room, while several other customers watched incredulously at the gaggle of bewildered Americans strip to their undergarments (of which, foolishly, we only brought a single pair). We were then given heeled sandals, which were too small for all of us directed through a dim, dank labyrinth to the very back of the room, which was hot with steam. There were buckets for water and hot and cold valves, which were as simple as any laundry room faucet, and, as we grew more comfortable with the situation, we began to relax and soak in the steam, splashing and pouring water on ourselves. Soon however, we were called back two at a time and were seated on a raised platform were bathroom attendants, as disrobed as we were and sour from our exceptional ignorance, sat very closely behind us and scrubbed us with coarse rags. We were turned front and back, facing toward them and away from them as they scraped away dead skin, and then they washed us down with soap before directing us to a cold shower to rinse ourselves off. We dried ourselves and waited in the lobby, relieved that all this had been carried out without incident, and then before we were clothed we were given a brief, light massage and rubbed down with olive oil. We returned home, then, our dripping undergarments in bags, happy to have done it and happier still to not do it again.
The following morning we left our underwhelming hotel, and headed into the city in Jerba. Our first stop was the synagogue, the largest in the country and the second most important pilgrimage site after Jerusalem. It was rather unnerving to see armed guards and watchdogs there, but it is probably necessary, what with the truly preposterous amount of antisemitism in Tunisia. I also have to say that it was quite exciting to have to put a yamaka on to enter, as in the mosques only the girls had to put veils on and I felt rather left out. The interior was decorated with beautiful blue tiling and silver work, but I will let the pictures speak for that later.
Once we finished, and stalled in yet another market until lunch, we headed off for the south into Tataouine, which turns out is actually a real place. It was a balmy 105 degrees outside when we arrived in mid afternoon to a beautiful Berber style hotel, which is strikingly similar to the Navajo style ones you would find in the American Southwest. The majority of the day afterwords was spend lounging by the pool, doing laundry (the whole pay per parcel thing took a lot of people off guard, myself included) and generally languishing in the heat. I myself have spent the evening swatting away bugs and watching the half-stray cats run by as I write this, and I now I have nothing more to write. I hope you enjoyed this episode of Tunisia Puns, and I will surely have more updates for you soon enough.
Sincere Regards,
Michael Coffey
Thursday, May 22, 2014
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Tunis Puns, Episode 3: All Roads lead to Rome.
Hello, dear readers! It has been an exciting time for me here in the African province, as the past several days have been spent among the various ruins of the ancient civilizations. Though you did indeed get a taste of these at Utica, the remainder of the first week has been a powerhouse for ancient exploration. Less prevalent, but still notable is the true beginning of our exploration of American foreign policy.
We pick up our adventure Wednesday morning, which for me started a bit later than I intended. One of the unfortunate side effects of using a cell phone as a timepiece in foreign countries is that, because you don't get any service, it has no opportunity to adjust its timezone, and I did not think to install an alternate timekeeping app before I arrived. Though for the most part, this is not a terribly pressing issue, it mean I have to calculate time in my head, which leaves a bit of room for error, and that error found a home in my Wednesday morning alarm. My roommate and I had to scramble to prepare as our only indication that we were late was a call reminding us that we were to board the bus in five minutes! Happily, we were quick enough to board without incident.
Our first stop on Wednesday was the US Military Cemetery for the African campaign in WWII. I do not need to give much description for the cemetery itself, as anyone familiar with Military Cemeteries will know the layout; neat rows of white marble crosses, flavored by the occasional Star of David tombstone. The real highlight of the the trip was a beautiful mosaic depicting the African Campaign, the first of many mosaics which I saw on my adventures. Foolishly, I failed to get a picture of it, as at the time I was distracted, gazing out over the honorable dead whilst a soft, melancholic chime was carried over the breeze. I was reflecting on how the war was like an epic legends, both awesome and terrible, which brought out both the greatest valor and cruelty of mankind.
Anyway, now that I've waxed a bit poetical about WWII, we will turn our gaze to the next site. Amusingly, after we visited a very modern cemetery, we went back to an ancient one, viz. the Shrine of Tophet in the district of Carthage. I have to say that there was a stark difference between the expected behavior in the the two sites. As I've mentioned before, in Tunisia, they are much more lax about the treatment of ancient relics, and neither the site's officials nor our professor batted an eye as we all took our seats for a lecture on the ancient Punic tombstones! I must admit that I myself have fallen prey to relaxing my standards of respecting relics, but often times what can I do?
In any case, the most interesting, and certainly most controversial part of the Shrine of Tophet was the question of whether this was the site of child sacrifice. It seems to be very heavily contested, especially on a political level. The former dictator of Tunisia, Ben Ali was very insistent that it was all slander, as, because he was a secularist, he wished to promote a glorious pre-Islamic past, and had no interest at all in the Carthaginian Empire being sullied by unsavory business. Of course, there is indeed a good point that our only sources for this practice comes from the enemies of Phoenicians, the Greeks, Romans and Biblical Hebrews. There was also some other interesting things to learn about the history of Semitic peoples too, which affects even our own culture today. The Phoenicians, it seems, just like Abrahamic religions, were rather disinclined to idolize their gods as was common among polytheists, and only had stylized depictions of them, a belief from which the "graven image" business most definitely derives from. Likewise, the Phoenicians seemed to have a particular reverence for meteorites, which they viewed as a piece of heaven, a practice shared by Muslims viz. the Black Stone of Mecca.
Continuing with our theme of Carthage, the next site we visited on Wednesday was Byrsa Hill, the Acropolis of Dido. This was definitely one of my favorite place in Tunis. You can see the famous Circle Harbor and from the summit, and there is a magnificent cathedral which towers over everything. I will let the pictures talk, but so far it was one of the best things in the trip
The final stop of this long day was much less exotic: we stopped at the local shopping mall, where we stocked up on a number of supplies, chiefly a shameful amount of alcohol. I know that we certainly don't blend into our surroundings, but honestly the fact that nearly everyone took at least three bottles of wine only sharpened the sting of obviousness further (I myself did not help with this, though I will say that I was among the more conservative shoppers). This was the end of affairs for Wednesday, and an early bedtime followed, as Thursday would prove to be our earliest day yet.
Thursday we arose at a chipper 5:30am and ate whatever scraps of breakfast the hotel had served at that point. We had no time to lose, as today we were making our way out into the countryside westward, to visit the Roman Ruins of Bulla Regia and Dougga. Both of these were former Berber towns which had been converted into Roman settlements after the conquest of Carthage. Both are also by far the most scenic places we have been to so far. Bulla Regia is most notable for its underground villas, which contained some fantastic mosaics of gods and hunting scenes and so on. However Douga was the crown jewel of the ancient ruins. It was on top of a massive hill overlooking the northern farmland of grain and Olive trees, and was much better preserved than the others before it. The theater, the capitol, a temple to Celestia, and a pre-Roman Libyan mausoleum were all still standing, and even though the surrounding buildings were mostly rubble, the walls and foundations of all of them were still in their original positions. One thing in particular added to the experience however; our tour group happened to pick up a stowaway: Mark, the retired civil servant from London. He, whilst apparently touring the sight alone by himself just happened upon our group and decided to participate in the lectures we were receiving from our guide, and we were more than happy to bring him along with us for the remainder of the tour. It was very nice to see a new, friendly face and he became quite beloved by all of our group, but sadly, we had to part ways at the end of our day. The remainder of Thursday was spent catching up on work and recovering from our long trip.
Friday was our last day in Tunis and not quite as exotic as the days before. In the morning we visited the Bardo Museum, which is located in the former Turkish Harem, right next to the seat of the Constituent Assembly, the current government. Their collection of mosaics was quite astounding, ranging from massive triclinum models, intricately detailed portraits, and even a beautiful mosaic baptismal pool. There were also some beautiful Roman statues as well, and the interior of the Harem itself was a work of art, with intricate facades, columns, ceilings and chandeliers in both the Turkish and Italian styles.
Once we completed our visit to the Bardo Museum, we invaded a nearby cafe, much to the chagrin of the local customers, who somehow did not appreciate a large, rowdy group of Americans, most of whom were women (small cafes such as this one tend to be a meeting place exclusively for men by custom). Afterwords, we went back to the center of Tunis, where we broke off and found our own lunch, for once happily free of brike (brike is a local pastry consisting of a fried egg and perhaps some fish wrapped in a thin flower dough and fried. It is not bad, but it does get rather tiresome when you are served it as an appetizer for lunch every day for nearly a week). Afterwords, we went to a rooftop bar on a high rise overlooking the city, and there I sampled boukha, a local fig-liquor which is like a sour but very smooth vodka (not bad on the rocks).
Friday afternoon we visited the US embassy, which, due to a recent attack on it (sometime late 2012), was a very secure process. We were permitted no bags, nor any electronics and were directed to a small gatehouse breaking the thorn-lined wall surrounding it. After going through a security checkpoint, and having been verified as a red-blooded, flag slinging AMERICAN, we were directed to a library where we met with the US ambassador. He was an elderly chap, very business-like, and when we asked him questions about the state of US-Tunisian relations, he gave the same answer as any cookie-cutter US official: mostly nothing, but in so many words. However, the Embassy did later give our Professor a call stating that they found our questions to be the best from students in the past couple of years, so, depending on how many student groups they've actually received in that time, it very well may be a compliment.
We concluded our visit in Tunis by visiting the district La Marsa that evening, where we received a whole host of healthy treats: giant fried doughnuts, hashish, sweet teas and gelato. In our time there, I had the opportunity to speak with another of the Tunisian students who I mentioned earlier, a young woman by the name of Amira, and we discussed a whole host of things: New York City, our disgust for camels (there was one tethered in the cafe for some god forsaken reason), and perhaps most interestingly the complexities of regional ethnicity. It is actually quite fascinating how complex the relations are, what with Berbers, North African Arabs, Gulf Arabs Jerban Islanders, French, Italian ect. It really does put a great deal of perspective on the region, and (though it is to be expected, honestly) it does bring to light exactly how heterogeneous the nations of Islam actually are (quite unlike what popular sentiments among the 24 hour news channels would have you believe). It always helps to remind ourselves that people will always have fractal divisions.
Saturday was a lazy day, and since I am being lazy as I write this, I will be brief. We packed up our things in Tunis, and made our way south to the religious center of Tunisia, the city of Kairouan. Our hotel is a beautiful resort built in the old casaba (citadel) of Kairouan, and I spent most of the day enjoying their delicious food, spending time in the pool, catching up with work and talking with friends. In the evening, we went on a walking tour of the medina, and visited the Mosque of Three Doors, we watched a weaver work at his loom, had a brief foray of football with the local children (certainly a cliche, I will admit) and watched the call to the evening prayer at the Grand Mosque of Kairouan. I have to say I felt it was a bit peculiar. Were I to go to church or something, I feel like I would be a bit off put if there were some tourists just sitting around watching me go to service, even if the church I went to was very nice. But there was no harm done, I suppose. Some of us ended the evening visiting a furtive cafe in the back of the hotel, built into the old jail cells, where I drank boukha and smoked hashish before returning to my room to type up this blog (not all of it, of course, just the end of it).
Well, dear readers, this is all for now. I hope you're enjoying your vicarious adventures as much as I am enjoying my not quite so vicarious one. Once again, I remind you all that upon my return, I will add pictures for all to enjoy!
Sincere Regards,
Michael Coffey
We pick up our adventure Wednesday morning, which for me started a bit later than I intended. One of the unfortunate side effects of using a cell phone as a timepiece in foreign countries is that, because you don't get any service, it has no opportunity to adjust its timezone, and I did not think to install an alternate timekeeping app before I arrived. Though for the most part, this is not a terribly pressing issue, it mean I have to calculate time in my head, which leaves a bit of room for error, and that error found a home in my Wednesday morning alarm. My roommate and I had to scramble to prepare as our only indication that we were late was a call reminding us that we were to board the bus in five minutes! Happily, we were quick enough to board without incident.
Our first stop on Wednesday was the US Military Cemetery for the African campaign in WWII. I do not need to give much description for the cemetery itself, as anyone familiar with Military Cemeteries will know the layout; neat rows of white marble crosses, flavored by the occasional Star of David tombstone. The real highlight of the the trip was a beautiful mosaic depicting the African Campaign, the first of many mosaics which I saw on my adventures. Foolishly, I failed to get a picture of it, as at the time I was distracted, gazing out over the honorable dead whilst a soft, melancholic chime was carried over the breeze. I was reflecting on how the war was like an epic legends, both awesome and terrible, which brought out both the greatest valor and cruelty of mankind.
Anyway, now that I've waxed a bit poetical about WWII, we will turn our gaze to the next site. Amusingly, after we visited a very modern cemetery, we went back to an ancient one, viz. the Shrine of Tophet in the district of Carthage. I have to say that there was a stark difference between the expected behavior in the the two sites. As I've mentioned before, in Tunisia, they are much more lax about the treatment of ancient relics, and neither the site's officials nor our professor batted an eye as we all took our seats for a lecture on the ancient Punic tombstones! I must admit that I myself have fallen prey to relaxing my standards of respecting relics, but often times what can I do?
In any case, the most interesting, and certainly most controversial part of the Shrine of Tophet was the question of whether this was the site of child sacrifice. It seems to be very heavily contested, especially on a political level. The former dictator of Tunisia, Ben Ali was very insistent that it was all slander, as, because he was a secularist, he wished to promote a glorious pre-Islamic past, and had no interest at all in the Carthaginian Empire being sullied by unsavory business. Of course, there is indeed a good point that our only sources for this practice comes from the enemies of Phoenicians, the Greeks, Romans and Biblical Hebrews. There was also some other interesting things to learn about the history of Semitic peoples too, which affects even our own culture today. The Phoenicians, it seems, just like Abrahamic religions, were rather disinclined to idolize their gods as was common among polytheists, and only had stylized depictions of them, a belief from which the "graven image" business most definitely derives from. Likewise, the Phoenicians seemed to have a particular reverence for meteorites, which they viewed as a piece of heaven, a practice shared by Muslims viz. the Black Stone of Mecca.
Continuing with our theme of Carthage, the next site we visited on Wednesday was Byrsa Hill, the Acropolis of Dido. This was definitely one of my favorite place in Tunis. You can see the famous Circle Harbor and from the summit, and there is a magnificent cathedral which towers over everything. I will let the pictures talk, but so far it was one of the best things in the trip
The final stop of this long day was much less exotic: we stopped at the local shopping mall, where we stocked up on a number of supplies, chiefly a shameful amount of alcohol. I know that we certainly don't blend into our surroundings, but honestly the fact that nearly everyone took at least three bottles of wine only sharpened the sting of obviousness further (I myself did not help with this, though I will say that I was among the more conservative shoppers). This was the end of affairs for Wednesday, and an early bedtime followed, as Thursday would prove to be our earliest day yet.
Thursday we arose at a chipper 5:30am and ate whatever scraps of breakfast the hotel had served at that point. We had no time to lose, as today we were making our way out into the countryside westward, to visit the Roman Ruins of Bulla Regia and Dougga. Both of these were former Berber towns which had been converted into Roman settlements after the conquest of Carthage. Both are also by far the most scenic places we have been to so far. Bulla Regia is most notable for its underground villas, which contained some fantastic mosaics of gods and hunting scenes and so on. However Douga was the crown jewel of the ancient ruins. It was on top of a massive hill overlooking the northern farmland of grain and Olive trees, and was much better preserved than the others before it. The theater, the capitol, a temple to Celestia, and a pre-Roman Libyan mausoleum were all still standing, and even though the surrounding buildings were mostly rubble, the walls and foundations of all of them were still in their original positions. One thing in particular added to the experience however; our tour group happened to pick up a stowaway: Mark, the retired civil servant from London. He, whilst apparently touring the sight alone by himself just happened upon our group and decided to participate in the lectures we were receiving from our guide, and we were more than happy to bring him along with us for the remainder of the tour. It was very nice to see a new, friendly face and he became quite beloved by all of our group, but sadly, we had to part ways at the end of our day. The remainder of Thursday was spent catching up on work and recovering from our long trip.
Friday was our last day in Tunis and not quite as exotic as the days before. In the morning we visited the Bardo Museum, which is located in the former Turkish Harem, right next to the seat of the Constituent Assembly, the current government. Their collection of mosaics was quite astounding, ranging from massive triclinum models, intricately detailed portraits, and even a beautiful mosaic baptismal pool. There were also some beautiful Roman statues as well, and the interior of the Harem itself was a work of art, with intricate facades, columns, ceilings and chandeliers in both the Turkish and Italian styles.
Once we completed our visit to the Bardo Museum, we invaded a nearby cafe, much to the chagrin of the local customers, who somehow did not appreciate a large, rowdy group of Americans, most of whom were women (small cafes such as this one tend to be a meeting place exclusively for men by custom). Afterwords, we went back to the center of Tunis, where we broke off and found our own lunch, for once happily free of brike (brike is a local pastry consisting of a fried egg and perhaps some fish wrapped in a thin flower dough and fried. It is not bad, but it does get rather tiresome when you are served it as an appetizer for lunch every day for nearly a week). Afterwords, we went to a rooftop bar on a high rise overlooking the city, and there I sampled boukha, a local fig-liquor which is like a sour but very smooth vodka (not bad on the rocks).
Friday afternoon we visited the US embassy, which, due to a recent attack on it (sometime late 2012), was a very secure process. We were permitted no bags, nor any electronics and were directed to a small gatehouse breaking the thorn-lined wall surrounding it. After going through a security checkpoint, and having been verified as a red-blooded, flag slinging AMERICAN, we were directed to a library where we met with the US ambassador. He was an elderly chap, very business-like, and when we asked him questions about the state of US-Tunisian relations, he gave the same answer as any cookie-cutter US official: mostly nothing, but in so many words. However, the Embassy did later give our Professor a call stating that they found our questions to be the best from students in the past couple of years, so, depending on how many student groups they've actually received in that time, it very well may be a compliment.
We concluded our visit in Tunis by visiting the district La Marsa that evening, where we received a whole host of healthy treats: giant fried doughnuts, hashish, sweet teas and gelato. In our time there, I had the opportunity to speak with another of the Tunisian students who I mentioned earlier, a young woman by the name of Amira, and we discussed a whole host of things: New York City, our disgust for camels (there was one tethered in the cafe for some god forsaken reason), and perhaps most interestingly the complexities of regional ethnicity. It is actually quite fascinating how complex the relations are, what with Berbers, North African Arabs, Gulf Arabs Jerban Islanders, French, Italian ect. It really does put a great deal of perspective on the region, and (though it is to be expected, honestly) it does bring to light exactly how heterogeneous the nations of Islam actually are (quite unlike what popular sentiments among the 24 hour news channels would have you believe). It always helps to remind ourselves that people will always have fractal divisions.
Saturday was a lazy day, and since I am being lazy as I write this, I will be brief. We packed up our things in Tunis, and made our way south to the religious center of Tunisia, the city of Kairouan. Our hotel is a beautiful resort built in the old casaba (citadel) of Kairouan, and I spent most of the day enjoying their delicious food, spending time in the pool, catching up with work and talking with friends. In the evening, we went on a walking tour of the medina, and visited the Mosque of Three Doors, we watched a weaver work at his loom, had a brief foray of football with the local children (certainly a cliche, I will admit) and watched the call to the evening prayer at the Grand Mosque of Kairouan. I have to say I felt it was a bit peculiar. Were I to go to church or something, I feel like I would be a bit off put if there were some tourists just sitting around watching me go to service, even if the church I went to was very nice. But there was no harm done, I suppose. Some of us ended the evening visiting a furtive cafe in the back of the hotel, built into the old jail cells, where I drank boukha and smoked hashish before returning to my room to type up this blog (not all of it, of course, just the end of it).
Well, dear readers, this is all for now. I hope you're enjoying your vicarious adventures as much as I am enjoying my not quite so vicarious one. Once again, I remind you all that upon my return, I will add pictures for all to enjoy!
Sincere Regards,
Michael Coffey
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Tunisia Puns, Episode 2: Adventures around Tunis
Hello dear readers, it is I once again! In this episode of Tunisia Puns, I will detail the various sights and happenings which have occurred around , but not limited to the city of Tunis. During my stay I will unfortunately not be able to upload pictures which I have taken, because my phone is rather disturbed by the less than phenomenal internet connectivity here, but I will retroactively add them into my log, for the viewing pleasure of your delicate eyeballs.
I arrived in Tunis, having endured a 30 hour day and 11.5 hours of flying time, and now I am free to pepper you with all the glorious details of my adventures! (That is, of course, so long as the less than reliable internet permits). Nevertheless, I have arrived and, having gone through a surprisingly lax customs and security check I was promptly picked up by my group and sped off straight away to start our work, no rest for me I suppose. I am somewhat proud of myself though, since I was just barely able to keep myself from dozing off for the entire day, however long it may be.
Having finally situated ourselves yesterday, and having eaten a delicious almond-banana cake given to us for a fellow traveler's birthday, we went off to our first destination, the district of Sidi bou Said, an old part of town situated on a cliff overlooking the bay of Carthage. We toured around the district for a short while before finally coming to a rest in a cafe at the top of the hill, where we smoked hashish and drank mint tea for the rest of the evening.
The next day we began our studies at Amideast, an American cultural center within Tunis and met with a collection of Tunisian grad students who were studying American and British law systems. Afterwords, we then made our way into the Medina, the old walled city, which was filled with small shops of all sorts, most of which were selling the same tourist fodder at similar extortionate prices (as happens in shops within any capital city center). The streets themselves were rather unnavigable, especially for one with little local knowledge. At one point another student and I had to break off from the main group, who were being led by our Tunisian compatriots to collect a straggler who had been stalled buying an exceptional amount of souvenirs for his family. Unfortunately, when we had returned, the group was nowhere to be found, and us three decided to leave the Medina so that we wouldn't get lost inside it. With the fortuitous aid of a generous banker who lent us his cellphone, we were able to meet up with the group and be forever shamed as "the ones who got lost."
Once we reconvened, we spent the rest of the day in downtown Tunis without incident. We had lunch at a lovely restaurant deep within the Medina, and then afterwords we climbed up onto the roof with an absolutely stunning view of Tunis. After this, we wound our way out of the Medina, and awaited our return on the very ground of the Jasmine revolution, which was quite neat. By the end of the day, I was absolutely spent, in part due to the bright sun, but mostly due to the jet lag. We then spent a lazy night playing Mafia before we went to bed early.
However, there was little time for rest. The next day, Tuesday, we got up bright and early to make our way up north. The first stop was the ruins of Utica, a former Punic and Roman port. What was most fascinating was that there was absolutely no restrictions as to where you stood. You could walk right up into the ruins, walking where the Romans were walking 2000 years ago. You could even lay in the same tombs as the Carthaginians were buried in 3000 years ago (though that made me a bit uncomfortable. I like to have some respect for archeological artifacts).
After this we traveled to the port of Bizerte, the port of the Byzantines, Arabs, Turks and French. We got off by the old fort, which had a beautiful overlook into the town. Hence we explored the Medina, which was not a market, but rather a residential area, and we, the massive flock of obvious tourists seemed to cause quite a stir among the locals. However, the highlight of the town of Bizerte was the open air market, and the most interesting part of that was, of course, the butcher's corner, which inspired a great deal of disgust among our vegetarians and faint-of-heart, and much amusement for the rest of us.
After lunch and a brief lecture, we made our way to the final destination for the day, Cap Blanc, purported to be the northernmost tip of Africa. The cape was a high slope of sharp white stones, but was certainly no match for a native Coloradan, and I ran up to the summit, and down to the edge of the cape, scornfully heedless of these puny hills. Still, what the cape lacked in altitude, it certainly made up for with wind. A storm was coming in from the west, so the wind on the cape was strong enough that you could lean against it and not fall over. Nevertheless, we ventured as far our as the slope would permit and now that is certainly a thing that I can say to have done, so that's neat.
Well, dear readers, that is all for now. I will update again in a couple of days when I have more fresh material to thrill your imaginations. As to the pictures, I certainly will add them, but don't expect them before I return to the States.
Sincere Regards
Michael Coffey
I arrived in Tunis, having endured a 30 hour day and 11.5 hours of flying time, and now I am free to pepper you with all the glorious details of my adventures! (That is, of course, so long as the less than reliable internet permits). Nevertheless, I have arrived and, having gone through a surprisingly lax customs and security check I was promptly picked up by my group and sped off straight away to start our work, no rest for me I suppose. I am somewhat proud of myself though, since I was just barely able to keep myself from dozing off for the entire day, however long it may be.
Having finally situated ourselves yesterday, and having eaten a delicious almond-banana cake given to us for a fellow traveler's birthday, we went off to our first destination, the district of Sidi bou Said, an old part of town situated on a cliff overlooking the bay of Carthage. We toured around the district for a short while before finally coming to a rest in a cafe at the top of the hill, where we smoked hashish and drank mint tea for the rest of the evening.
The next day we began our studies at Amideast, an American cultural center within Tunis and met with a collection of Tunisian grad students who were studying American and British law systems. Afterwords, we then made our way into the Medina, the old walled city, which was filled with small shops of all sorts, most of which were selling the same tourist fodder at similar extortionate prices (as happens in shops within any capital city center). The streets themselves were rather unnavigable, especially for one with little local knowledge. At one point another student and I had to break off from the main group, who were being led by our Tunisian compatriots to collect a straggler who had been stalled buying an exceptional amount of souvenirs for his family. Unfortunately, when we had returned, the group was nowhere to be found, and us three decided to leave the Medina so that we wouldn't get lost inside it. With the fortuitous aid of a generous banker who lent us his cellphone, we were able to meet up with the group and be forever shamed as "the ones who got lost."
Once we reconvened, we spent the rest of the day in downtown Tunis without incident. We had lunch at a lovely restaurant deep within the Medina, and then afterwords we climbed up onto the roof with an absolutely stunning view of Tunis. After this, we wound our way out of the Medina, and awaited our return on the very ground of the Jasmine revolution, which was quite neat. By the end of the day, I was absolutely spent, in part due to the bright sun, but mostly due to the jet lag. We then spent a lazy night playing Mafia before we went to bed early.
However, there was little time for rest. The next day, Tuesday, we got up bright and early to make our way up north. The first stop was the ruins of Utica, a former Punic and Roman port. What was most fascinating was that there was absolutely no restrictions as to where you stood. You could walk right up into the ruins, walking where the Romans were walking 2000 years ago. You could even lay in the same tombs as the Carthaginians were buried in 3000 years ago (though that made me a bit uncomfortable. I like to have some respect for archeological artifacts).
After this we traveled to the port of Bizerte, the port of the Byzantines, Arabs, Turks and French. We got off by the old fort, which had a beautiful overlook into the town. Hence we explored the Medina, which was not a market, but rather a residential area, and we, the massive flock of obvious tourists seemed to cause quite a stir among the locals. However, the highlight of the town of Bizerte was the open air market, and the most interesting part of that was, of course, the butcher's corner, which inspired a great deal of disgust among our vegetarians and faint-of-heart, and much amusement for the rest of us.
After lunch and a brief lecture, we made our way to the final destination for the day, Cap Blanc, purported to be the northernmost tip of Africa. The cape was a high slope of sharp white stones, but was certainly no match for a native Coloradan, and I ran up to the summit, and down to the edge of the cape, scornfully heedless of these puny hills. Still, what the cape lacked in altitude, it certainly made up for with wind. A storm was coming in from the west, so the wind on the cape was strong enough that you could lean against it and not fall over. Nevertheless, we ventured as far our as the slope would permit and now that is certainly a thing that I can say to have done, so that's neat.
Well, dear readers, that is all for now. I will update again in a couple of days when I have more fresh material to thrill your imaginations. As to the pictures, I certainly will add them, but don't expect them before I return to the States.
Sincere Regards
Michael Coffey
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Tunisia Puns, Episode 1: Über Alle Deutchland
Hello, dear readers! It is your favorite lazy, lying piece of garbage blogger who never updates even when he says he will! I know you are all thrilled to have me back, and I am sure you are equally excited to know that I have new and exciting updates for you! Instead of my groundbreaking philosophical treatises which you all love so much, I will be recording my travels in the country of Tunis for your reading pleasure!
Right at this moment, I am in Denver International Airport, awaiting my flight to Frankfurt, of all places, a quick hop across the pond before I head down south to the land of Carthage!
Some of you may be wondering why I am going to North Africa, I am sure, and why I haven't made any sort of public announcements regarding it. To answer the first question, it is really quite simple. I am attending a study abroad trip, where I will study the political history of the area, from its Punic days all the way up to the Jasmine Revolution. To answer the second: this is the public announcement, cleverly places so that there can be no fuss and hubbub before I leave.
While I am quite excited all of this is a bit unnerving to be sure. I am basically going across the entire globe to an unfamilar place, without any real knowledge of what to expect when I get there other than the promise of a cab to bring me into the company of relative strangers from my university. I kind of feel like I'm making it up as I go along (as for the most part, I am). I have already learned a great deal, chiefly that getting foreign currency is just awful. I was, however, saved from the extortionate fees of Travelex (15% surcharge just to use my own money? Highway robbery that is) by the fact that there is not a single Dinar in the entirety of Denver. The more you know.
Well, as of right now, that is all there is to say about this. Expect more updates to come when I have something more interesting to say than I am sitting in my local airport.
Sincere Regards,
Michael Coffey
Right at this moment, I am in Denver International Airport, awaiting my flight to Frankfurt, of all places, a quick hop across the pond before I head down south to the land of Carthage!
Some of you may be wondering why I am going to North Africa, I am sure, and why I haven't made any sort of public announcements regarding it. To answer the first question, it is really quite simple. I am attending a study abroad trip, where I will study the political history of the area, from its Punic days all the way up to the Jasmine Revolution. To answer the second: this is the public announcement, cleverly places so that there can be no fuss and hubbub before I leave.
While I am quite excited all of this is a bit unnerving to be sure. I am basically going across the entire globe to an unfamilar place, without any real knowledge of what to expect when I get there other than the promise of a cab to bring me into the company of relative strangers from my university. I kind of feel like I'm making it up as I go along (as for the most part, I am). I have already learned a great deal, chiefly that getting foreign currency is just awful. I was, however, saved from the extortionate fees of Travelex (15% surcharge just to use my own money? Highway robbery that is) by the fact that there is not a single Dinar in the entirety of Denver. The more you know.
Well, as of right now, that is all there is to say about this. Expect more updates to come when I have something more interesting to say than I am sitting in my local airport.
Sincere Regards,
Michael Coffey
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)