Tunesia (remember that?)

So, I should get back to recounting the trip I took to Tunisia with Annette and Jennifer last November.

After our visit to the Prado Museum full of Roman antiquities, we hailed a taxi back to the center of town. No haggling, no arguing, what a pleasant surprise. Perhaps the most surprising part about the taxi ride was that I got my very first listen to Britney Spears "Womanizer". The mix of third world chaos and the cool, engineered beats of Ms. Spears threw my head for a loop but it's definitely a sign of Tunisia (or at least Tunis') situation as a crossroads between east, west, north and south. After a short rest at the Hotel Salammbo, named after Flaubert's fictional preistess and protectress of Carthage, we met up again with our hosts par excellence for a trip to that ancient metropolis.

At the modern day gates of the ancient city (now an UNESCO World Heritage Site) we met up with a couple of professor friends of Laura and Kasim (our hosts, two professors at Oregon State). Taking a tour of an ancient site with four History professors is an experience not to be missed, especially if its at site like Carthage, which looks like it was sacked and burned just yesterday. After its founding by Queen Dido (an ancient incarnation of Secretary Hillary?), Carthage became one of the most powerful cities on the Mediterranean. But three Punic Wars, a Muslim invasion, and a failed Catholic Crusade has taken its toll on the rich port, and most of what is left is piled along the edges of a ruined neighborhood. I wrote this limerick (for Julia) to commemorate the ruined city:

Carthage was burned to the ground,
And salt sprinkled all around,
And now ev'ry fruit
That's taken root
Is pre-seasoned as it sprouts from its mound.

After our tour of the ransacked capital, we made our way to Sidi Bou Said for some more of the ubiquitious mint-tea with pinenuts and a view to-die-for. The little red flags in the picture are the Tunesian flag that has been strung up everywhere in celebration for November 7th. Everywhere means lamp-posts, trees, balconies, telephone booths, car antennae, even the giant clock in town nick-named "Big Ben-Ali". "What is November 7th?" I hear you ask. No, it is not the national holiday of independence, that's March 20th. November 7th is the day when the leadership of this Arabic Republic was taken over by Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, currently serving as president since 1987 and miraculously re-elected with Soviet-style unanimity ever since. His awkward going-stag-at-the-prom picture smiles benificiently from behind the counter of every restaurant and office. Its not required by law to show the picture, but the police are nicer if you do.

Sitting on a terrace overlooking the mediterranean, it's easy to imagine taking a long stay in this place. The cool breeze from the clear blue Med, the scent of jasmine flowers and apple scented tobacco floats around you, the tea gives you that extra stimulant rush of caffeine and it feels a little like heaven, then walking back to the taxi stand you happen upon an armless guitar player, plucking out weird melodies, the Europeans on vacation march past and change the topic.

By the end of the afternoon, Annette, Jenn, and I were craving some Tunisisan fare after eating pizza and pasta since we had arrived. Spotting a couple of police officers, Annette put on her best charms and sashayed up to the two uniforms, "Um, nous ne sommes pas d'ici" We're not from around here. To which they replied with shock, "No!" We convinced that we were actually not nationals of the Republic of Tunisia and asked them where we could go to get some good Tunisian grub.

"One-hundred percent Tunisian?" they asked us, laughing like teenage boys

"Uh, yeah," we replied, missing the joke, "Cent pourcent Tunisienne!" In the end, they pointed us in the wrong direction, but with the warm feeling that the police who often carry submachine guns and scowl are really just folks doing their job, we didn't even have to show them the portraits of Ben Ali we carried in our wallets, just in case. Full on hefty plates of couscous and lamb that were drenched in olive oil, we called it a day.