Waking up at my hotel, Dar Ben Gacem, in Tunis’ Medina (old city) puts a smile on my face. The hotel is built into what was once either a private home of a wealthy family or a madrasa (an Islamic school); both have similar feels, with a series of rooms around a central courtyard, so it’s hard to tell which. Decorative tile covers the walls, and archways ring the courtyard, where a communal table is set for breakfast for the guests. Coffee, fresh juice (strawberries are in season so that juice is served), bread, eggs… it is a good way to begin a day, the famed Arab hospitality combining seamlessly with French cooking. It is peaceful here, a feeling that the chaos just outside the door makes even more special.
Tunis has existed since ancient times as a suburb of Carthage (click here to read about Carthage and Roman Tunisia) but the Medina was born with the Arab conquest of the Maghreb (Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia) in the 7th century. The Zitouna Mosque was constructed here beginning in the year 698 (though it wasn’t completed until 864) and a maze of alleys sprung up around, which would be walled as a city, although the regional capital was established in Kairouan. (Click here to read about Kairouan and early Arab Tunisia.)
Centralized rule from the Arabian peninsula ended quickly here in Tunisia, and after a dizzying succession of empires moved the capital several times, Tunis took over officially with the establishment of the Hafsid Dynasty in 1228. Fast forward to the 16th century (my sincere apologies for skipping so much; the history is fascinating but not totally relevant to this story and I don’t want to cover it without being able to do it justice) and the Spanish Charles V occupied the region in order to fight the pirates of the Barbary Coast. Then, in 1569, Tunis was taken by the Ottomans.
The Ottoman period is where much of today’s Medina of Tunis dates to, with many of the buildings here (possibly including my own hotel) dating to the time between 1569 and Tunisia being a French protectorate in 1881. Much of the construction of the Medina is credited to Hammouda Pasha, Bey of Tunisia, (Pasha is an Ottoman title designating rank, while Bey was the title of the hereditary ruler here, sort of a vassal to the Ottoman sultan) who ruled here in the 1650s and 1660s.
Of course, none of that history matters to me as I exit my hotel onto Rue du Pacha, a narrow street along the western side of the Medina. This would have been a narrow street just for horses back in Ottoman times, and today is shared by pedestrians, motorcycles, and – shockingly – cars. The street runs reasonably straight, something that isn’t necessarily common inside the maze of the Medina, and even passes under buildings bridged above. It is lined by shops, restaurants and cafes, workshops, private homes, cultural centers, and a few hotels like my own.
Tunis is a huge city, holding roughly a third of Tunisia’s 12 million inhabitants. There are luxury hotels in upscale neighborhoods, and I could have chosen any of them, my budget buoyed by the low costs here. But I wanted the experience of staying inside the Medina. I wanted the history, the authenticity, and the beauty of this UNESCO World Heritage Site. Yes, I wanted the chaos. But I needed a bit of an ease into it. So I called an expert.
Ahmed Bensaid of Didon Tours has been a full-time tour guide in Tunisia for more than a decade of his surprising 72 years, after a career as a teacher. He was randomly matched with me when I booked a day tour on Viator, and I am so glad he was! Over an hour and a half or so, we wander the streets and souks of the Medina (before continuing to Carthage and the seaside town of Sidi Bousaid), popping into a few of his favorite buildings on the way. (You’ll also recall that Ahmed was my guide for Kairouan and El Jem. And I’d like to note, he was still speaking to me after two days.)
To say that the Medina is chaotic would be not quite to do justice to the concept of chaos. The layout is seemingly random, and at multiple times I feel we have turned around. Streets look much the same, with mostly two story buildings fronting what we would generously call alleys back in California. Ahmed explains that the reason so many buildings cross over the streets is that someone with a house that was a bit too small for his family would ask permission from his across-the-street neighbor to add a “shoulder,” an extra room, built in the only place it could be constructed. So these aren’t bridges, just spare rooms for one of the buildings on one side or the other.
We pass beautifully decorated and painted doorways, and I am taught that the three knockers on many of these all have difference sounds. One is for men, one for women, and one for children, and this way the gender of who was at the door was known so that there wouldn’t be instances of a woman opening the door for a man. And most of these doors have smaller doors that are the portions that actually open unless large objects need to be moved in.
Some streets are completely covered and are lined with market stalls. This even more maze-like maze is home to the Tunis Medina souks, markets that have at times each specialized in a single sort of ware, like jewelry or clothing. Today, it seems a bit more jumbled, but frequent shops selling sweets and even more frequent shops selling perfumes (Tunis is famous for its scents, many of which are at the base of the most expensive French designer perfumes) make this entire portion of the Medina smell delightful.
Of course, the center of the Tunis Medina is still the Zitouna Mosque, one of several that exists here. (It really isn’t apparent how many there actually are until you realize that a call to prayer is emanating from a nondescript building you’ve passed by regularly.) This mosque is the second oldest in the Maghreb (behind the one in Kairouan), and can hold several thousand worshippers. It isn’t open to non-Muslims (and even Muslim access seems to be limited when prayers are not happening), but can be seen from the outside, both from the square fronting its main entrance and other streets along the sides.
But the best view of its Moorish minaret (a single square tower) is from a terrace of another building in the Medina. Several shops and hotels have such terraces, and Ahmed guides me to one that he thinks makes for the most impressive panorama. I can’t say he is wrong.
There are a ton of restaurants in the Tunis Medina, but I have to say, the best food I find is just outside of it, along Place Bab Souika. Bab means gate, and this was the northern boundary of the old city. Here, I seek out a Tunisian specialty, lablebi, from a tiny restaurant called Weld El Haj, although signage is only in Arabic. (Remember, while basically everyone in Tunisia speaks French, many spots that cater almost exclusively to locals will only have Arabic menus and signs. It’s part of the fun!) Lablebi is a chickpea stew made with garlic, spicy harissa (you can get it without by saying “sans epice”), and other spices, served over stale bread with a soft boiled egg. The man at the counter, guessing from my lousy French accent that I’m not a local, demonstrates tearing up the bread into small pieces, which I do, then gestures for me to bring the bowl back to the counter for him to fill. It comes with two spoons to use to break the egg and stir the whole thing together. It is delicious! Price for two people with a soda: roughly $4.
On my way back to my hotel from my lablebi, I see a long line of people at a street cart, so naturally I look to see what the fuss is. It is a sort of Tunisian stuffed crepe called a malawi, and apparently the women of this stall make the best in the city. (I don’t think it even has a name to find on Google Maps.) I resolve to come back the following night, since I’m too full to eat another bite.
Returning as promised, my broken French navigates an order. The thick crepe is first filled with cheese between two layers of dough stretched out over a grill. Then one can pick what to put inside. I say “oui” to everything except mayonnaise, choosing merguez, a spicy local sausage, as my protein. I’m soon stuffed again, this time with my delicious bundle filled with harissa, lettuce, tomato, onion, and fries, in addition to the cheese and sausage. It is enough for two people, for a measly $3 or so.
After just a few days, the Tunis Medina begins to feel like home. While I still have to consult Google Maps to navigate to a new restaurant (it still isn’t 100% accurate with the number of streets that dead-end and the equal number that it thinks dead-end that actually just go under one of the bridge buildings), I can get from my hotel to my street food area or to Kasbah Square, the best place to catch a taxi, without difficulty. The chaos begins to feel natural, and dodging a motorcycle along Rue du Pacha doesn’t phase me. And as the chaos subsides, the beauty plays up. Each balcony, door, building covered with bougainvillea screams out at me to stop for a moment in appreciation. And I do.
I had some apprehension before coming here to Tunis and staying in the Medina. Would it be safe? Would I get lost? Would I regret not choosing the Marriott? After four nights, I can state that while I was not always confident in where I was exactly, I was safe… and I was enthralled. Yes, there is chaos here. But with that comes beauty, and a chance to experience something truly magical.
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