Country #124, It's still hotter than Hades. Part 2

Day 2 in Country #124. If the previous day had a high of 112, surely there would be some kind of reprieve in the making. Nope. You didn't like 112, how's 114 for you? That was the reality as I caught a Bolt to see my guide/ new buddy Riyadh. We were meeting in Carthage, 20 minutes outside of Tunis, to explore a wealth of Phoenician and Roman ruins.  

I was ready. I had all the 50 spf I could slather on, more water than I would normally drink in a week and a manhole cover of a hat to keep me fresh as a cucumber. We got caught up, paid the entrance ticket that gets you into all the archeological sites and proceeded to the Tophet Sanctuaire. This was a Phoenician burial site and possibly a place children were sacrificed to appease the gods. Or simply a place where children were buried. The controversy remains to this day- it is possible that the talk of sacrifice was nothing but Roman propaganda- but what is known is that between 730 BCE and 146 BCE, children's remains were interred on this site. 

It feels incongruous that this site is now surrounded on all sides by high end homes but I guess when you have as much history as Carthage does, it is to be expected. Ancient Carthage was once one of the most important (read: richest) trading cities in all of the Mediterranean. It was the capital of the Punic (or Western Phoenician) empire and boasted a hidden marina that could accommodate up to 220 ships.  

That marina, the Punic Port, was the next stop on our tour. Today, not much remains other than a couple of scale models and the general shape of the port but click here for a cool virtual recreation of what it would have looked like back in its heyday. 

As we continued to our next stop, the Magon Quartier, I started to notice something unusual. There were tour buses, loads of them, driving past us. Apparently, there was a cruise ship in port and its inhabitants were now on their way somewhere. The Magon Quartier contains the remains of a Punic residential area, dating back to the 6th and 5th century BCE. This is not where the cruise ship people were going. As with the prior two sites, we had it all to ourselves.

 

It wasn't until we reached our next stop, the Antonine Baths, that the mystery revealed itself. There were at least a dozen buses on the road leading to the entrance, their exhaust making an already steamy day that much hotter. These Roman baths, the third largest in the Roman empire and largest in Africa, date back to 145-165 CE. Compared to everything we had seen, they were incredibly well-preserved, which is surprising because there did not seem to be any prohibitions against climbing all over the ruins, which is exactly what the hordes of tourists were doing. (Full disclosure: I may have joined in once or twice).

We spend a good half hour competing for space and photo ops with way too many groups of Spaniards. They kind of sucked but I was getting two tours, one from Riyadh and one from eavesdropping on the many other guides. 

The gist of it was this was one decked out spa. There was a sauna, cold room, thermal baths, swimming pool, workout area (naked wrestling was mentioned at some point) and a giant communal latrine. It would have been a vast multi-level complex. Today only the ground level remains but it is still a pretty magical place to explore, or at least it became so when all the tourists returned to their buses and went back from whence they came.

We, on the other hand, did not board any bus. We continued on foot in the relentless midday sun. When we arrived at the Roman Villas, I vaguely noticed the remains of Roman luxury homes and the intricate mosaics stacked against the wall. At that moment, I was way more interested in the covered area behind the mosaics. 

For the next 20 minutes, we literally hid from the sun guzzling bottles of water we had bought from a vendor at the entrance. It may have been the best water I've ever had. 

Once I no longer felt like a melting wax figure, we wandered back out. It was then that it struck me that these mosaics which would have been in a museum anywhere else in the world, were stacked like overstocked plywood at a 3rd rate Home Depot. Again, I think part of this has to do with the wealth of antiquities in the area- Riyadh mentioned that it's not uncommon for farmers to find ancient pottery and repurpose it as dog bowls or ashtrays. It's unrealistic to expect every shard to get full white glove treatment but this was a little much. 

Given the nonchalant way they are being treated, it really is a wonder that things look as good as they do. The mosaics that were still in place were particularly impressive. 

From there is was a short walk to the Roman Amphitheatre, built in the 1st century CE, rebuilt by Julius Caesar and still very much an active concert venue. On this day, they were midway through a month-long concert series.  The lineup ranged from Arabic music to Electronica to hip-hop  (I could have been having heat induced hallucinations but I vaguely remember seeing Flo Rida's name on the poster.) I asked if there was any efforts in place to ensure that the crowds and vibrations generated by Apple Bottom Jeans don't damage the structure. Riyadh looked at me as if I had well and truly lost my mind. 

To emphasize his point about antiquities just being a part of everyday life, we stopped by a lot where a bunch of columns had been haphazardly erected. This was not done by the Romans. They were nothing if not precise but by some later person who happened to have a bunch of columns and said "just put them over there..."

Much more egregious is the Malek Ibn Anas mosque.  It is a beautiful structure, to be sure, but built atop what is beyond question thousands of years of history. The amount of land paved to construct this building in 2000 is massive, so much so that UNESCO threatened to take away Carthage's historic designation for not being proper stewards of the land. 

A shortcut through a field brought us to an unexpected site, the North African American Cemetery and Memorial. It is the only US military cemetery in Africa and the resting place of 2,841 soldiers who perished during WW2. We were welcomed into a lovely visitor's center where a dedicated caretaker explained the history of both the cemetery and the soldiers buried therein (including some of the Tuskegee Airmen) Did I ask some extra questions because this was the first I had felt air conditioning since landing in Tunis? Perhaps but I was truly impressed by the level of commitment to a place that most people probably don't even know exists. 

This concluded our visit to historic Carthage. We returned to Sidi Bou Said for lunch and a bit of strolling around before calling it a day. Riyadh had plans for the next day so I would be on my own but now I had a better feel for the area and was ready to explore on my own. I planned to take a 3 hour louge ride to El Djem, yet another amphitheater but this one much larger and in better shape than the one in Carthage. 

That is until that evening, I received a call from Riyadh. He had checked the weather and it was somehow going to be even hotter, 120 degrees!!  I can't even imagine it but apparently the heat in Djem is even worse than in Tunis. He had seen me having literal meltdowns and did not think 6 hours in hot vans and walking around shadeless archaeological sites was a good idea. He implored I take it easy and stay in Tunis. 

It sounded like a reasonable request. The heat was literally making me ill. I was nauseous from just walking around.  But then I woke up the next morning, realized this was my last day in Tunisia, looked at the big map on the wall and decided I needed to pursue a closer arrow. Instead of baking in a louage for 3 hours, I could bake for just one hour. That's doable. The new plan was to go to Bizerte, in the northern part of the country and then somehow get myself to Cap Angela, the northernmost point in Africa. Back in 2003, I had been to the Cape of Good Hope, the southernmost point, so this was now an absolute necessity.

A kind Bolt driver who realized my Duolingo French wasn't really cutting it, parked his car and walked me into the louage station to make sure I got into the right van. The louage driver, perhaps noting that the mega-hat that was now welded to my head might not even fit in the back put me in the passenger seat, where I enjoyed a nice cross-breeze. All was going well. Until we got to Bizerte, where we were basically dropped off on the side of a busy road. The locals (as in every other person that was in the louage) were getting taxis with pretty minimal effort. I was not having such luck. Not a single car would stop for me. Time to improvise. In the most broken French, I started approaching drivers who were on break on a side street and telling them (I think) that I wanted to hire them for a touristic visit. Finally, a guy I had approached who'd declined had a change of heart and picked me up. I called Riyadh and had him negotiate this deal. As the conversation took place in Arabic, I watched the driver's face sink further and further into confusion. Why exactly did this woman want to go an hour away to see the northernmost point? She speaks no Arabic and something that is not really French? Is this a normal thing American women do??

As we got further from the city and any semblance of a cell phone signal, I watched this poor man struggle to find this elusive place. When he did get an errant bar or two, he used it to call every person in his contacts list and explain his current predicament. My phone and its gps refused to offer any help. Finally another driver sent us down a dirt road, which led us to a lighthouse within viewing distance of the northernmost point. That was good enough for me. I was perfectly content to take the win and explained as much (I think). 

But my man was now committed to the cause. He had come this far he was going to see it through. Back into the car, more dirt roads, goal in hand until there it was. The monument marking the northernmost point.

I think he may have been more excited than I was. I ascertained (I think) that this was his first time here so I demanded his phone and had him posing all over the monument. This stoic man who had no idea when he woke where his day was going to take him now wanted us to take a selfie. Hell, yeah!!

In between the lighthouse and the monument was a pretty killer beach with drink/ food stands, hammocks, beach chairs and most impressively in-water cabanas. My question is how the hell do you have all of this and not one single sign pointing the way? Not a one. This is not visible from the road, not even close. I get it that if you know, you know but c'mon now. Not one single umbrella salesman thought to put up a sign?

We hung out on the beach a bit, enjoying some cold drinks before the hour long drive back.

Once we were back in Bizerte, I figured I might as well check out the old harbour before returning to Tunis. I'm so glad I did. It was lovely, chill and had a restaurant inside of an ark.

Eventually, I made it back to Tunis, tired, perpetually overheated but with one more thing to do. I had a 2am flight to Amsterdam but Riyadh had promised to show me some nightlife and I was not missing out on this. 

And what a night it was...To think, just a couple of days before we were struggling to find a place to get a beer and now, well I'm not sure what this was, but it was something.

It made for some fascinating people watching opportunities. My personal favorite was the gentleman in the blue shirt. Even without saying a word, I felt like I knew so much about him.  This man is a provider.  He is an environmentalist who when offered a plastic bag will politely decline. But most of all, he is someone who straight does not give a fuck. How do I know all of these things? Note the big bag of diapers that he proudly plopped down on the table- not under the table- atop the table, front and center before ordering a bucket of beers.

From there, every bar we hit was somehow a little more interesting than the one before. There were lounge bands, working girls (and only working girls, the male to female ratio was off the charts) and lots of complimentary snacks. It was a wild but fascinating way to end a visit to a wild but fascinating place. 

It was not a goodbye but an until next time. I loved what I saw and fully intend to return. But I can tell you one thing, there is no fucking way it will be during the summer. Il fait vraiment trop fucking chaud.