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
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