Tunis, take one

Eid al Adha came early this year, allowing some long-suffering students to study for a full week before finals, and allowing others to travel. I selected the second option and traveled to Tunis with trusty Number 6, who has come to embrace her former moniker, thanks to Rednikki's excellent citations (although it must be pointed out that Number 6 is not, in fact, a number, but a man).

Here we stand before the Bab al Bhar, which marks the entrance of the old city/bazaar area. There were once walls emanating from this archway.



Central Tunis has long, tree-lined streets, wide sidewalks and acres of sidewalk cafes. Although the holiday atmosphere may have slightly skewed the sample, it appeared to Number 6 and I that Tunisians are required, by law, to spend at least five hours a day haunting these sidewalk cafes. While there, in is imperative that they eat crepes and drink copious amounts of coffee. They are also instructed to wear keffiyehs: Number 6 counted a full 60 individuals so dressed throughout the course of the holiday.

The medina is sprinkled with lovely doors, mostly painted blue. The walls are sparkling white and the ground clean. Therefore Number 6 and I were forced to dander or darndest away from all the cleanliness in order to find more fascinating things to look at, such as people hanging out in doorways, and grafitti.



A church on the main street, Avenue Habib Borguiba (on which our hotel was situated) has a pair of hands extending from its facade. I wish there were strings attached to the fingers and that this were called the Church of the Puppeteer. That it's called the church of saint something is a missed opportunity.



Eid al Adha is, in Cairo, a time when the streets are reputed to smell of death. Sheep are herded across the city to meet their end at the family barbeque. We saw many sweet looking sheep in Tunis, but the odor was not particularly remarkable. In the streets of Sidi abu Sayid, however, we did spot a tell-tale trail of crimson blood, inching toward the sidewalk grate. Ten minutes later, the stain was gone.



The main action in Tunis is the Bardo Museum, an archaeological heaven. It is pretty far from city center. We tried and failed to convince a taxi to take us there, and were therefore forced to figure out the Metro system. At least, they call it a Metro but none of the trains go below ground. Is that not a tram line? Regardless, we arrived at the Bardo with 40 minutes to spare before closing time - ample time to peruse a three story museum. The collection boasts gorgeous Roman mosiac floors, some of which are displayed on the walls, and some entertaining statuary.



Although pictures were permitted only for those who paid the extra fee (I didn't), I was forced to take several photos by an exuberant guard who must have been rather bored.


He insisted that we pose with him after he took three or four pictures of use looking slightly bemused.