Tunisia (2023)

Kairouan – Like from 1001 nights

One last time, I entered the dining room of my hotel in Sousse, where, as always, the most clichéd scenes unfolded at the buffet. Although the conference with all the cool people and our joint excursions was truly great, I was relieved when I could finally check out of this all-inclusive bunker.

Throughout the entire trip, I wondered where I should travel for the two remaining days. Coastal towns were mainly suggested to me, but I had had enough of beach tourism. As a Star Wars nerd, the original filming locations in the south of the country would have been interesting (including a cool Star Wars hotel in Luke’s old house), but it was too far away considering I effectively had only one night. Instead, I had been toying with the idea of traveling to Kairouan the whole time, although everyone advised against it. Just yesterday, the taxi driver mentioned that Kairouan had surpassed the 50°C mark, and it was currently unbearable there. Despite the warnings, my curiosity led me to look for accommodations. In doing so, I found an affordable and highly-rated place with a good location (and some form of air conditioning, although the information was a bit ambiguous). In the end, my curiosity won, and I booked the accommodation. So, my next destination was Kairouan: the Gateway to the Sahara and the holiest Islamic city in the Maghreb.

I ordered a Bolt ride to the Louage station, and after a short search, I found the counter selling tickets to Kairouan for an unbelievably low price. I was the only woman in the Louage. I didn’t find any conversation partners this time; most people were occupied with their smartphones. But that was okay, as the journey was only about an hour. I asked the driver to drop me off a bit earlier since we were passing close to my accommodation.

Yes, it was really hot here, but after all the experiences of the past few days, it bothered me much less than expected. I took my suitcase and navigated to the accommodation. At the location indicated by the marking, there was a clothing store where two women were sitting and chatting. When they saw me, they knew what was happening. “Dar Chama?” they asked. That was the name of my accommodation. I nodded. They gestured for me to wait in the shade, and a few seconds later, a woman with curly hair emerged from the opposite alley. That was Chama, my host. She greeted me warmly and asked me to please speak German, as her English was not very good. Her German, on the other hand, was flawless because she had worked as a tour guide for German tour groups in Hammamet until the pandemic. When tourism came to a halt in 2020, she returned to Kairouan to the over 100-year-old house where she grew up. She completely renovated the house and now welcomes travelers in one of the rooms. In theory, she could return to her old profession, but she doesn’t want to because she feels much better here in Kairouan. When I saw the house, I immediately understood why. The house was like a fairy tale, with round arches and a beautiful large courtyard from where you could reach all the rooms. Chama had lovingly decorated the courtyard with flowers. There were homegrown mint and fragrant jasmine plants.

One of the first things Chama said to me was, “Make yourself at home.” I realized that this wasn’t just a phrase but her sincere invitation. Due to the long weekend, Chama had her daughter, Meriam, and her granddaughter, Miral, as guests. Meriam spoke a bit of German, though not as well as her mother, but she spoke English fluently. She was a software developer in Hammamet, and we got along well from the start. Miral was a real little whirlwind. I admit I can be a bit awkward around children at times, but Miral just won everyone’s heart instantly. There were plenty of cats outside the door, including little kittens that Chama took care of. Inside, a shy Siamese cat roamed around. The shyness was due to the fact that she was born without eyes and was therefore blind. A veterinarian friend had brought the cat to Chama after she had been abandoned outside her door, and Chama now lovingly cared for the animal.

Chama showed me to my room, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the air conditioner on the wall. Along with a city map, she had placed a small plate of Makroudh as a welcome gesture. This was a specialty from Kairouan: semolina squares filled with dates (if prepared with butter, they are not vegan, but one never knows whether butter or margarine was used – sometimes you have to compromise while traveling). As mentioned, Kairouan is a holy city, and it is said that you become holy yourself when you eat Makroudh. Well, I wasn’t going to miss out on that 😉

Like all oriental sweets, Makroudh is very sweet but also extremely delicious. My room, too, resembled a scene from One Thousand and One Nights. The bed was in a round alcove with curtains and a couch in front of it, and the furniture looked as antique as the house itself but was surprisingly well-maintained. A small wooden door led to a bathroom with an extremely low ceiling, but it was equipped with everything needed and impeccably clean. I briefly nodded off on the couch. When I woke up and stepped out again, Chama asked if I would like to join her, Meriam, and Miral for dinner, which I gladly accepted. Being vegan was no issue: She prepared a vegan version of Shakshuka with bread and salad, and for dessert, we had fruit. We chatted cheerfully at the dining table, and it felt like I had been part of the family for years.

After the meal, I set out to explore the city. Yes, the sun was relentless at the moment, but as I had limited time to explore the area. The streets were completely deserted, which was no wonder given the prevailing 48°C. The city was undeniably influenced by Islam. Minarets towered everywhere. It’s no coincidence that Kairouan is also called “The City of 300 Mosques.” A quite substantial number for a city with slightly more inhabitants than Jena. Quran verses were painted on some houses, and a wall advertised for trips to Mecca. The souq began at one of the old city walls. However, the goods were covered, and the sellers were likely resting somewhere. It felt somewhat like the siesta in Spain. But that didn’t bother me; the city itself was the attraction here.

The low buildings were mostly in white or beige, adorned with round, beautifully decorated doors. Taller buildings had balconies or lattice windows, equally artistic. It felt like being in Disney’s Aladdin. Whichever way you turned, there was an even more beautiful alley with even more beautiful arches, doors, and windows. I could have walked through here for hours and still been fascinated. Instead, I sought out a place directly at the souq recommended by Chama, and that was Bir Barrouta. An inconspicuous staircase led to the first floor of one of the buildings. There, an unusual scene unfolded: while a small café extended on the left side, a well operated by a camel was on the right side (yes, a camel on the 1st floor of a house!). This well is indeed one of the holiest places in Kairouan, as it is supposedly directly connected to the Bir Zemzem, the sacred well in Mecca. The camel is needed to draw water because the well is a whopping 20 meters deep. Historically, the well is also crucial for the city, as it once helped supply the population in this dry and hot region with water. Pilgrims who travel to Kairouan drink the water from this well, as it is believed to have healing properties.

Two men were on the first floor. One was busy behind the café counter, and the other was with the camel. Both seemed surprised to see me suddenly, but they came straight toward me and warmly greeted me. Unfortunately, they didn’t speak English, but with gestures, a few Arabic words, we could still communicate. It’s customary to make a small donation at Barrouta. Following this, one man urged the camel, which began to make its rounds. I just hoped that the camel also gets to go outside its shifts. At least it had a shady spot here, and it was fascinating to see the well in action, with water being lifted upward. I couldn’t help but notice that the man driving the camel was wearing a fake Borussia Dortmund jersey. I pointed to the logo and explained that it’s my hometown. His eyes lit up, and after I took my obligatory photos, he also asked me for a selfie.

After the attraction, I moved to the other side of the room where the other man was still behind the counter. I ordered a coffee and sat in the guest area of the café. An older gentleman was just finishing his coffee there. He greeted me with a smile, albeit slightly confused, and I greeted him back with a smile. The café was furnished with oriental seating areas and small wooden tables. I chose a seat by one of the latticed windows, allowing me to look down onto the street, even though there wasn’t much happening yet. Shortly after, the waiter brought me my coffee, and as there was no air conditioning, he handed me a fan. I sat here for a while, sipping my truly delicious coffee and enjoying the deceleration. Eventually, I paid and bid farewell to the two men, who waved at me once again. I wandered through the city’s alleys for quite some time, discovering a new, even more beautiful spot at every corner.

Girls’ night out in the evening in Kairouan.

Back at the accommodation, Chama offered me fresh peppermint tea, which I gladly accepted. She and Meriam were busy plucking peppermint leaves from the freshly harvested stems, and Miral was also helping. Soon, it would be dark, making the temperatures more bearable, and the women wanted to go out for a bit. That’s when Chama made me an offer I couldn’t refuse by asking if I wanted to join them. Of course, I did! After finishing my tea, I also helped pluck the peppermint leaves. Then, we all got ready, and off we went.

The city was transformed. People were everywhere, and cars and mopeds snaked through the streets. Our path led us to the Mausoleum of Sidi Sahib. While it’s called a mausoleum because it houses the tomb of Abu Zama’a al-Balawi, a companion of Mohammed, it is essentially one of the many mosques. The minaret was brightly lit, and the square in front of the mosque was bustling with people. Vendors offered snacks and drinks, and trampolines were set up for the children (of course, Miral got to enjoy one of the trampolines). During the daytime, an entrance fee was required to visit the mausoleum, but now it was open to everyone, and Chama suggested I go inside. The interiors were beautifully painted and adorned with numerous columns. In the courtyard, there were again many people taking photos. This was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful mosques I had seen so far.

Back outside, I arrived just in time for a big celebration: accompanied by a group of musicians, brightly lit carriages arrived. In one of the carriages, a young couple held a baby in their hands. “A circumcision,” Chama explained to me. We watched the lively scene in front of the entrance. It didn’t take 5 minutes before everyone was outside again, and the carriages set off, only for more carriages to arrive. Another circumcision! This time, we decided spontaneously to join the festivities. In front of the musicians, there was a group of dancing women. We stood together with many other people in a circle around the women, clapping in rhythm. The good mood was absolutely contagious, and the best thing to do was to simply get carried away. Meanwhile, Miral stared at the colorful carriages.

On the edge of the square, some empty carriages were waiting to transport guests. As a small token of gratitude, I offered to treat my hosts to a carriage ride, which was joyfully accepted. Meriam seemed to have a talent for negotiating, and so we got a short tour for 15 Dinar. Chama dictated the route, and, being the guide, she explained to me what there was to see along the way. Miral happily hopped around while Meriam took photos of her. After the carriage ride, we all went back home together. What a fantastic and eventful day, and what an excellent evening!

This city is simply beautiful!

The next day started with a delightful breakfast. Chama had set the table with coffee, bread, and wonderful homemade jams. She had learned to make jam in Germany and perfected it with local fruits back in Tunisia. One of my favorites was the fig jam, but the orange jam was also delicious. After breakfast, I started to pack my belongings. My flight to Germany was scheduled for the middle of the night from Tunis, and Chama had helped me arrange for a driver who would pick me up in the evening and take me to the airport. In the meantime, I could leave my things in her private quarters since I had to vacate the room today for a family who had booked it. I moved my luggage there and set out for my exploration of the day. After all, I still had the whole day to make the most of.

In the northern part of the Old Town, I first visited the Bassins des Aghlabides. These were two large water basins built by the Aghlabids as water reservoirs, as water has always been a critical issue in this region. Nowadays, there is a building with a ticket counter, a souvenir shop, and an observation platform from which you can overlook the area with the basins. Similar to Carthage, the ticket purchased here was also valid for all the other attractions for the rest of the day. I took my obligatory photos, bought some souvenirs for the family back home, and received a Makhroud as a gift from a vendor.

Then I proceeded to the Grand Mosque, which is also the symbol of the city. To my surprise, unlike the mosque in Tunis, they allowed me to enter with my ticket. I wanted to quickly tie my scarf around my head, but the guard indicated that it wasn’t necessary. I hadn’t expected that here, but I was quite pleased, especially since I didn’t need an additional headscarf in this heat. I was only not allowed to enter the prayer room, as it was reserved for Muslims. However, the courtyard with its long colonnades and the enormous minaret was impressive enough. I circled the courtyard, taking photo after photo, before heading to the next point on my map.

The next item on the agenda was the Mausoleum of Sidi Amor Abada, one of the many saints buried here. This time, the mausoleum was not a mosque but a museum, albeit a rather run-down one. There were some personal items, reflecting Abada’s eccentric character, which appeared oversized and impractical, and a wooden box with a large tablet on top. Apparently, this was a Zaouia, a kind of monument for posthumous veneration. One could proceed further into the premises, which may have once served as a mosque, but they were empty, and the plaster was peeling off the walls. The only points of interest were the ceilings, as they still had decorations here and there.

To my disappointment, I realized that the other places on my ticket were either too far away or closed. The only option left was to visit the Mausoleum of Sidi Sahib, but I had already been there yesterday evening. Instead, I had to embark on a quest: In Sousse, I had bought postcards, but unfortunately, there were no stamps. I had to find stamps in Kairouan, but the post office is also closed on Sundays. So, I walked through the market and asked various vendors. They directed me to the strangest places, only to be told that there were no stamps there. Along the way, I bought a traditional fan (the thermometer showed a proud 49°C) and continued my quest.

I had already given up hope when I saw a beverage stand at one of the old city gates. A refreshing drink was exactly what I needed right now! The vendor seemed very friendly, so I decided to ask one last time if he knew where to buy stamps on a Sunday. He called a boy over and said something to him in Arabic. Then he signaled for me to follow the boy. The boy led me to another stand where an elderly man sold batteries and small items. The boy repeated what he had said before, and the older man actually brought out a stack of stamp sheets. Hooray! My postcards were saved! Now I had a fan, a cool drink, and my stamps. Mission accomplished 🙂

Encounters

On the way back, I stopped in front of one of the many small jewelry stores. Unfortunately, I had lost the back of one of my earrings, and it looked like they had beautiful earrings here. A woman in a bright headscarf smiled at me as I entered the store. Instead of addressing me in French like everyone else, she spoke to me in English and asked if it was okay for us to speak English, as she was currently trying to learn it. I agreed and explained that I didn’t speak French anyway, and we both started laughing. We talked about trivial things. I told her how impressed I was with Kairouan, and she asked me about Germany. Although our conversation was rather superficial, I stayed in the store longer than expected, and we chatted for a while. In the meantime, I picked out a pair of silver earrings with a green stone. She placed the earrings on a scale and calculated the price on her calculator. Normally, you negotiate prices here, but she started negotiating with herself. She quoted me a price of just over 20 dinars (which was already quite reasonable), but then she kept correcting herself, negotiating with herself until she reached 15 dinars. There was nothing more for me to add. I handed her the money, and she wrapped the earrings in a cute little pink box with a bow on top. We thanked each other for the great conversation, and she waved goodbye as I left the store.

After my mission was accomplished and the midday heat was truly merciless, I returned to the accommodation to write postcards and affix the purchased stamps. Together with Chama’s Siamese cat, I retreated to one of the rooms for the next few hours, attempting to escape the heat. I used the time to call my family and send photos to Germany. At some point, I set out again to drop off the postcards. Fortunately, there was a mailbox in front of the post office. As of December 2023, not all postcards have arrived yet, but those that made it were only in November in the mailboxes, even though I was here in July.

Near the post office, a café caught my attention, resembling one of the trendy cafés in Sidi Bou Saïd. I had no objections to a coffee, so I stepped in. The air-conditioned atmosphere was pleasant. There were no other guests besides me. Unfortunately, the young waitress didn’t speak a word of English, but she made a visible effort, and at least part of the menu was in English. I ordered a coffee, lemon water, and some almonds. While the waitress prepared my order, another young woman entered the café and sat at the vacant table opposite. She had short hair and large horn-rimmed glasses. Upon reaching the table, she opened her laptop and seemed more like she was in a Starbucks in Silicon Valley than in Kairouan.

The waitress had finished preparing my order by then. In addition to the almonds and my drinks, she brought me a peculiarly shaped metal vessel that piqued my curiosity. I pointed to it and asked what it was, but, of course, the waitress still couldn’t speak English, and she didn’t understand my question. The lady with the horn-rimmed glasses now looked up from her laptop and came to the waitress’s aid. In perfect English, she explained to me that it contained rose water. You can apply it to your hands because it smells good. Relieved, the waitress returned to her place, and I thanked her for the translation. The lady with the horn-rimmed glasses was now curious about me and wanted to know where I come from and what I was doing in Kairouan.

We got into a conversation, and at some point, I even joined her at her table. Her name was Hayfa, and as it turned out, she was the owner of the café. She was born and raised in Kairouan but went abroad for her studies. Now she’s back intending to revitalize the city and create job opportunities, with the café being just the beginning. We hit it off right away because we both shared a passion for the city. Hayfa told me a lot about how it used to be here and how the city is developing now. Time flew by. Eventually, I thanked her for the great conversation, wished her all the best, paid, and set off. I strolled around the city a bit more, said goodbye to the narrow streets with the pretty doors, and eventually returned to Chama. She was busy cooking pasta with tomato sauce for everyone and offered me to join them for dinner again, which I gladly accepted. The remaining time, I spent at the accommodation playing with Miral, or maybe she was playing with me; it’s hard to tell 😉

Farewell

Time flew by, and eventually, evening arrived, signaling my departure. Together with Chama, Meriam, and Miral, we walked to the Sayed Sahbi roundabout, an impressive roundabout with an Islamic monument in the center. The driver was already waiting for us and helped us take a few farewell photos. Even though my time here was short, Kairouan had become a piece of home for me, and the three of them felt like part of my family. They say that if you love Kairouan, you will return. Well, if that’s the case, I will surely come back to this enchanting place!

In the car, the driver handed me two fresh, fragrant round loaves of bread. They were for me, he said, as I had a long journey ahead, and the nearby baker made the best bread. He smiled at me again and drove away. It’s truly incredible how kind and hospitable the people are here. I’ve been to quite a few countries in this world, but Tunisian hospitality is truly unparalleled. As the landscape passed by in the darkness, I enjoyed one of the loaves. I packed the other one to let Kevin taste it. It was indeed as delicious as the driver had mentioned.

Without any further issues, we arrived at the airport in Tunis. I bid farewell to my driver and to this fabulous country. While waiting for my flight, I had time to reflect on the past nearly 10 days. Tunisia completely blew me away, and I mean that in the most positive sense. This country has so much to offer culturally, as well as in terms of its people. The sights, whether ancient ruins or intricately adorned mosques, are breathtaking, and the people I had the pleasure of meeting surpassed themselves in warmth and hospitality.

Tunisia is much more than all-inclusive hotels with white sandy beaches, and I hope that more people will recognize this in the future. Also, it’s important to mention that I traveled through the country alone as a woman and never felt uncomfortable at any point. Of course, there were a few futile attempts at flirtation here and there, like at the Louage Station in Tunis, but they could easily be deflected. I lived in Duisburg for three years, where I felt much more insecure than being alone here in an Islamic country. The media coverage in our countries sometimes does these places a disservice, as evidenced by the fact that I was asked multiple times if I wasn’t afraid of this trip. The answer is simple: No, I wasn’t, and I would come back anytime.

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