Tunisia chapter 7
Chebika, Mides canyons, the Tamerza waterfall, and Ong Jemel, and Mos Espa.
At breakfast the owner of the hotel asks me where I’m from. He’s thrilled when I tell him. He’s planning a trip to New York in January and asks me where he might stay. The hotels all seem so expensive.
I give him some neighborhoods to look in and he tells me he’ll send them along to his son who is helping him plan. He tells me he used to be a teacher of Arabic literature in the university, but he’s retired. He has another hotel along with this one and he’s looking to garner more guests from the U.S. Occasionally the U.S. embassy will send people his way.
He tells me that the dates on the table are from their own trees, that the fig cake is made by a local Berber woman. The bread is home-made. A block of halva rests on the plate and the bite brings me back to a morning in Damascus when the host of the guesthouse gave me my first bite of the sweet confection.
Boutheina picks me up after breakfast and we drive out into the desert. There are signs for camel crossings, but we don’t see any. I keep my eyes peeled.
Our destination is Chebika, an oasis in the mountains outside of Tozeur. We drive towards the mountains, on the edge of the sahara. We thread our ways around the foothills and then down the verdant road that leads to the oasis itself.
Boutheina hands me off to Ahmed, a local guide, when we arrive. Most of the tourists are climbing a hill towards the old town but he leads me down a road directly to the oasis in order to avoid the crowds.
We follow a dirt path to the oasis. A stream from the waterfall runs alongside.
It’s cool in the canyons, the waterfall and pool a tranquil spot. Merchants have set up shop right in the canyon, selling bags and jewelry, but they are low key and don’t disrupt the relative quiet of the morning.
We continue on to the end of the path where the water flows out from a gap in the rocks. Ahmed tells me the water is warm and I climb down a small rise to reach the source and touch the water. It is warm. A man asks me if its hot and I tell him it’s like bathwater. His wife wanted to know, but she’s a little afraid of climbing down to reach it. I offer to watch their cihld if he wants to help her down but he tells me it’s ok.
Ahmed leads me out of the valley along a rocky trail to the top of the mountain. There are views to the new city to which all of the residents have been relocated and to the desert beyond.
Ahmed leads me through the ruins of the old town and I hang back to explore the nooks and crannies, walking through disused doorways and around empty courtyards. A statue of a bighorn sheep watches over us all.
The usual gift shops fill the buildings near the entrance. A huge pile of desert rose crystals threatens to overflow a table. Boutheina will buy a few for me to take home as souvenirs.
We continue to drive through the mountains to Mides Canyon. At one pass we stop for the view and take tea in a small shop and cafe that sits across from the viewpoint. The shopkeeper tries to interest me in other souvenirs but I demur.
We stop at the viewpoint for the canyon for pictures. Boutheina cautions me as she sees me walk towards the edge for a better view. There’s not enough time for a hike, there’s much more to see today.
Our next stop is the Tamerza waterfall, today a small trickle. Boutheina tells me that the year before the area flooded. In 1969 the nearby town was abandoned after the river flooded for 22 days.
I follow the narrow stream into the canyons and follow the water for a bit before the path dissolves into a scramble before heading back to the parking lot to meet Boutheina.
She calls me to a shaded table in a cafe. She orders tea and dates and a flatbread that we snack on before heading back to the car to continue our exploration of the desert.
We swap cars and hop into a 4x4. Firaz is to take us into the desert and he speeds us along the roads to Ong Jemel, a formation in the desert that looks like a camel’s neck.
We pause for just a moment at the neck. A few groups have climbed the hill for the views, but we move on, headed towards Mos Espa, a Star Wars filming location. Firaz finds dunes to drive up and down, mimicking a roller coaster, and he turns to let us watch another jeep that follows to show us the steepness of the slopes.
We stop on a plateau above Mos Espa and I get out to retrace our steps. I want to get a better view of the formations we’ve driven through, sandy waves frozen in the desert.
From the plateau we have a bird’s eye view of Mos Espa and Obi Wan’s words about Mos Eisley fill my head. I have to remind myself of where Mos Espa fits within the Star Wars lore; it’s the home of Anakin Skywalker, a location that features more prominently in the prequels than in the original trilogy films I grew up on.
It’s fun to explore the town, wander into the structures. Inside, it’s clear they’re quickly built stes rather than ancient dwellings that have weathered the desert for eons. The moisture vaporators are made of wood. The realizations don’t diminish the magic, however, nor do the people in modern dress, the merchants selling souvenirs, or the camel drivers offering desert rides.
I meet Boutheina and the driver in the parking lot at the scheduled time, and stop before getting in the car for one last view. I make a mental note to look up stills to see how reality stands up to what’s made it on film.
Back in town the driver drops us off near the main square. We follow a road that leads towards the alleys of the old quarters and Boutheina leads me on a short walking tour of the neighborhood.
I stop to take photos of doorways, their simple wooden forms capturing my fancy. I like them all, the old weathered ones showing their age and the newly constructed ones that look like they were made yesterday, the simple patterns that adorn them adding so much character.
We enter a large courtyard where a man has spread carpets out for sale. Boutheina leads me to a cafe just off the square and we climb a few flights of stairs to find a small market on the far side of the roof.
We look through the tables at the displays and each end up buying small bags of chocolate for later.
The cafe is adorned with murals and artifacts and Boutheina encourages me to take photos as we descend back into the street.
We follow the alley through a market and end up on the main road. I now know where we are and add our explorations to my mental map of the city.
At dinner we talk about Arabic and how it’s spoken by people from different countries. Boutheina tells me she can understand Egyptians but it doesn’t work as well the other way around due to the Berber influence on the Maghreb language. I ask her about Moroccoans. She tells me that they’re hard for her to understand. And they talk so fast. In interactions with Moroccans she speaks French.
The hotel is quiet. The large group seems to have left and I don’ see another person as I climb the stairs to my room. I wash up and fall into bed, asleep almost immediately. 🇹🇳
28 February 2024
