Tunisia chapter eleven
A New Year’s Day stroll through the medina de Tunis.
It’s a quiet morning when I step out into the medina. The door to my apartment is on a small alleyway, but the main street is steps away. From the roof I can look down upon it.
I don’t have any particular idea of where I want to go. I’m more interested in losing myself in areas I have yet to explore. And with that in mind I follow the main street to the Porte de France, turning right when I reach it to head down a street unknown to me.
It’s a street of shops aimed at the local market. Gone are the leather goods and tchotchkes and tiles that adorn the shops near my apartment. Here there are clothes and housewares. At one stall a few mini Christmas trees leftover from the holidays sit on a makeshift table top, tinsel lining the storefront.
I reach the edge of the medina and turn to walk down another street, this dotted with meat and fish markets. I consider purchasing a fish to cook at home but head back to the edge of the medina to a restaurant I had seen, packed with people. There were no seats when I first passed, but this time I walk in and find a seat in the back, sharing a table with another.
I order fish and fries. A soup appears and bread. It’s delicious. The man across from me offers me a bite of his meal. I thank him and tell him I’ve ordered more than enough and dig in.
After lunch I head back into the medina, doing my best to lose myself. As soon as I find myself recognizing where I am I turn down an unfamiliar streets and alleyway to see where it may lead.
Cats abound, curled up in a corner, pawing at empty boxes looking for food, casually strutting along the stone and concrete walls. By turns they watch me pass and ignore me completely, their tails curled or twitching.
It’s quiet inside the medina, and I find myself stumbling into a hamam that’s closed for the day. I ask about when it might be open tomorrow and the proprietor lists out the times. I make a note to visit in the coming days, but I never quite get around to it.
It’s mostly overcast, but now and again the clouds part to let the sun filter onto the streets. I had forgotten how much I love wandering through a medina; I hadn’t realized how much I had missed the Maghreb.
I stop before doors and courtyards to take photos, finding myself emerging from my explorations onto one of the familiar streets before finding a heretofore unexplored alley to duck into.
I discover new things even in the familiar, as once empty courtyards reveal restaurants and cafes I had missed, an assemblage of tables and chairs exposing additional purposes.
One door I had passed repeatedly is open to reveal a mosque splitting a thoroughfare in two. I had passed often wondering what lay behind the closed door, and I am thrilled to have solved this mystery, adding a little bit more information to the map I hold in my head.
By the time I return to my apartment I’ve taken over 10,000 steps. I climb the stairs to the apartment to rest before deciding what to do for dinner. I’m content to spend a quiet night at home, but I also want to feel the pulse of life around me, even if, on this first afternoon of the year, it’s subdued. 🇹🇳
1 January 2025
