Tunisian Travels with Adil Day 3
Old Tunis gate, outside the Medina
Today we head north from the Gulf of Tunis, toward the most northerly point of Africa.
Photo, left: author refreshed after a swim at Bizerte (by Badie Farrah)
Our first destination is Roman Utica. The highway north is divided and the median is planted with oleander, white and pink alternating. One side of the highway is clothed in soft green trees; the other side is farmland.
Utica is well off the main road, a newly-opened ancient Roman settlement. At the gate, as Adil settles down on a stool to wait, we are greeted by an enthusiastic guide. We wave him off, wanting to go through the ruins on our own, but he is not deterred. And indeed, he proves to be a gold mine of information. This comes out in French and Arabic. I do my best to translate the French and Badie translates the Arabic.
Our guide tells us what the town was like in ancient times, showing us the Roman villa of Cato, and boathouses that lie where the sea used to be, 15 k from the current coastline. We also see tombs, and buildings that were used for storing grain; Carthage used to be the granary of Rome.
He shows us beautifully preserved mosaics, and explains that though they lie quite close together, they are from three different eras: early Punic Carthaginian, (800 BCE) then Roman (about 100 CE) and finally Byzantine. We go then to an ancient well, and our guide throws down a bucket on a rope and brings up fresh water. We quench our thirst where the ancients drank and splash our faces to cool off.
Then we get back in the car and Adil drives on to Bizerte. We reach the town in mid-afternoon. Anna and I are determined to swim and we stop first at a lovely beach. The men wait by the car while we go down to the cool blue sea, the sand nearly scorching our feet.
After we leave the beach, Adil parks in the town and we stroll on the sea front. One large ship and some small boats stand at the dock. The nearly deserted outdoor cafes have their table cloths clipped in with elastic against the constant wind.
An Arab colt, dark and slender, strains his rope taut where he is tethered to a tree in the quiet street. From the trees above come the cooing voices of mourning doves.
We wander into the market and I buy some fragrant ripe peaches and figs. As I complete my purchase, the muezzin booms down on us from directly above; we realize we are standing right below the minaret. In the market, what little business was going on seems to carry on normally, uninterrupted by the call to prayer.
Back in the car, I catch sight of my dark-tanned face in the mirror. My hair is a damp curly mop and I hardly recognize myself. I am startled to see the deep creases in this aging face; I feel as young at this moment as I ever have.
We cannot go up to Cap Blanc, Adil explains; it is owned by the military. We start back for Tunis and like an exhausted child, I fall asleep in the car, and relive the day's adventures in my dreams.
I wake when we stop at a rest stop and go to the restroom while Adil puts gas in the car. First when I come out, I don't see the Renault. Adil spies me and winks solemnly; I follow him to the car and get in.