Dispatch from the Medina at Dusk
Three Days in Ancient Tunis, Before the Desert Beckons
Writing to you from a quiet corner of our dar in Tunis's medina, where the call to prayer mingles with the sounds of evening vendors closing shop. After months of anxiety-fueled preparation and a brief Roman reunion with my family, we've made it to Tunisia—country #53 on my growing list.
These first days in the capital have been a crash course in medina navigation, where GPS signals go to die and Google Maps becomes more of a creative suggestion than a reliable guide. The maze-like streets have their own logic: follow the scent of fresh bread in the morning, trace the path of carpet vendors setting up their displays, or simply let the crowd's flow carry you toward the souk's heart. Each turn reveals another story written in blue doors and whitewashed walls, while cats hold court on ancient stone steps as if they've been appointed the medina's official greeters.
The satellite phone sits unused in my bag (so far), while we've been busy discovering that couscous comes in more variations than my pre-trip research suggested. Today brought us to Carthage, where we roamed the grounds of the ancient library atop Byrsa Hill, its ruins overlooking the same Mediterranean waters that once carried Phoenician ships. My uncle's improvisational approach to photography schedules finally met its match in winter closing times.
Tomorrow we head south, trading Tunis's winding alleyways for archaeological sites and desert landscapes. But those stories will have to wait—the evening call to prayer is echoing through the medina, signaling the day's end.
Coming next week: Full dispatches from Tunisia's southern reaches
Finding home in ancient medina evenings,
Susie