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MyWikiBiz, Author Your Legacy — Thursday October 03, 2024
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I have yet to discuss my experiences in the morning, where I walked in the downtown area of Tunis city and through the motley open-air markets, but sleep is rapidly conquering me once again so I must save that for another day. Until them, adieu, مع سلام!
I have yet to discuss my experiences in the morning, where I walked in the downtown area of Tunis city and through the motley open-air markets, but sleep is rapidly conquering me once again so I must save that for another day. Until them, adieu, مع سلام!
==A Twinge of Ages Past==
08 January 2009, 14:12
We had a break from classes and assignments today, but still had to begin what would be a bustling day early. I woke up around the first breaking of dawn, prepared myself for the day, and headed down at 8:15 to the hotel restaurant to have a somewhat uneventful breakfast. While the amenities in this hotel overall far surpass those of our last, the food in this hotel is certainly not as good - instead of eating authentic Tunisian dishes, we are instead eating comparatively mediocre food catered to the largely-tourist hotel population. This and the increased distance between all of our rooms are what bother me the most; overall, I really wish we could have stayed in host families. (Update: we will be staying with host families! In my section on the town of La Marsa, I will detail my first encounter with my family, which amusingly happened entirely by chance.)
After breakfast, we began the day by visiting an American cemetery dedicated to the troops who had lost their lives in the North African campaigns World War II. The atmosphere of the environment was such that were I not consciously aware that I was in Tunisia, I would have believed myself to be back in the States, perhaps at the latitude of North Carolina. Our tour guide showed us first to a polished stone wall which had engraved on it the names of all the troops which had lost their lives in service, along with three stone statues of women respresenting Honor, Memory, and Recollection. Fitting for such a dedication, all sorts of ornamental trees, flowers, and grasses grew alongside this wall in little beds of soil, and a bouquet had been placed down on one facet of the wall by a relative of some departed soldier.
Continuing along, our guide then pointed out to us a few lavish maps, set almost entirely in mosaic, which detailed and documented the North African campaigns, including the routes taken by the Allied and Axis forces as well as the sites of major battles. Explanatory texts sidled these displays, which I was sure to take pictures of - I have uploaded them along with this document and will type them up as text when I get a chance. Within this pavillion was a stone sepulchre, complete with a inscription honoring the lives of the soldiers who had died. The group as a whole stood in front of this monument for a moment of silence while an attendant cued a recording of the national anthem, complete with gunshots at the end.
The next exhibit was a small temple to commemorate the faith of those who had passed. Hung from the side wall were flags representing each branch of the American military, and from the back wall was mounted a large cross with a compass at its center for the Christian soldiers who had died in the war. In addition, a small stonehead in remembrance of the Jewish forces was situated in the corner of the temple. Beyond the cross and the altar below it, one can overlook the entire cemetery through a window - stone markers shaped like crosses spanning throughout the entire area, with a few headstones topped with a Star of David mixed in for the Jewish soldiers.
Before long, we ventured into the field itself. Each tombstone showed the name, division, military rank, and year of death for those graves who were known, as well as the service number at the foot of the stone on the opposite side. A fair number of graves, however, marked a unidentified combatant - on these stones was marked "Here rests in honored glory a comrade in arms known but to God". The tour guide remarked that when Jewish mourners came to the graves, they would put stones on top of the two outstretched arms on the Star of David headstones. In addition, one particular headstone had received a bundle of flowers from Chelsea Clinton when she was visiting with her mother, who was on an official duty in Tunisia. This was the extent of the cemetery itself, but inside the visitor's center was a video detailing the war in North Africa, the official documents and letters which had established the cemetery, and a fresca depicting the Roman god Neptune which the first president of Tunisia, Habib Bourguiba, dedicated to the cemetery.
This led us to briefly tour around La Marsa, a subject which I will document in an entire article. I feel the trips to this small town deserved to be addressed altogether - nevertheless, this hour-and-a-half long block of time was certainly an intriguing, if not enjoyable time. (Don't get me wrong! I had fun! Though in retrospect, as least as far as I can see, the town is more enjoyable at night than during the day.)
After this day trip, it was on to exploring more ruins at the historic city of Carthage (قرطاج). Our guide for this was Si Najib (سي نجيب), who you might have seen if you have ever tuned into those specials about ancient empires on the History Channel or the Discovery Channel. He first pointed out to us the old ruins of the buildings the Romans had built - they created small living quarters since, at the time, the arch had not been invented and therefore the walls could not support a very heavy roof. Rubbles of columns and defaced statues were abound - after the Christian era in Rome, one of its emperors decreed that all statues of the pagan gods which were once worshipped had to be destroyed. Most of them were, but a few holdoffs and art conversationists of antiquity had managed to preserve some of them, including two statues of a Greek god which was always depicted as being ugly, fat, and drunk.
From these ruins, we went into the museum itself, a 18th century French cathedral which had been converted for the purposes of display. Housed within it were several mosaics and frescas, one of which covered nearly a third of the floor we were standing on. In order to see the entire piece, one had to go halfway up a flight of stairs and gaze down on it. In addition to these deliberate remains, there were also the refuse and debris of broken pots, tools, and other paraphenalia kept inside glass cases. At the time, ostriches were still rampant throughout North Africa, and the settlers there took it upon themselves to use their large eggs as storage vessels for fluids and grains. The back room on this floor showed more statues of Greek gods, here largely intact and well-preserved, though the garish paint which had once colored them has long since worn off.
The upper floor contained a few maps and some specific artifacts, such as the skeleton of a man who had been buried with his arms crossed. However, I was most intrigued instead by the miniature recreations of the living space and structures that were built during the Roman occupation - they had built a raised forum for the commoners to conduct their business and frolick, which was surrounded by a inner quarters supported with tightly-clustered columns. Behind the forum was the trial house, where criminals and pariahs would receive their judgment and see the last of their days. All of these structures were in turn supported by a large array of horizontal arches (which had been invented, the vertical arch was still in the works) which acted as buttresses to hold up the weight of all the roofs and columns.
As we left for the bus, I was approached by a man who tried to sell me some corroded copper coins for ten dinars (about US $7.50). Per the standard, my curiosity got the best of me, I just had to see what he was selling. (Note to future entepreneurs: approach me if you need to sell something.) After studying them somewhat carefully, I determined that the coins were probably worthless or forgeries - or, at the very least, nowhere near worth the price he was asking. Not wishing to practice my heckling skills, I politely bowed out from his offer and continued on to the bus, from where we would be exploring an old Roman bath-house which faced the sea, affording us a beautiful view amid the ruins.
We were given a brief warning not to take pictures in a certain direction; one of the President's palaces is situated right next to these ruins. Without further ado, Si Najib promptly begain to explain the bath house to us in his scholarly English accent: the building was used in the same manner as those baths which were in the mainland Empire, whereby the patrons would first undress and immerse themselves in any number of small, cooled tubs with perhaps one or two other people. After their bodies were sufficiently chilled, they would go on to the main bath, which was large, warmed, and public. This was a central social hub in Roman culture, and chances are that if you needed to talk to some important figure, you would be able to locate him here in the nude and discuss your affairs with him. The baths were sex-segregated, which made the female-designated baths the prime place for their socialization in a male-dominated society. Once the bathers were fully cleaned, they would spend some time in the frigidarium - as its name suggests, this was a cold room without a tub. From here, they would redress themselves and head back into town.
After this explanation, we were able to behold the ruins - the stones were orange, faded, and had become host to all sorts of shrubs and grasses sprouting out from various odd nooks. Being a later construction, vertical arches had been invented by this time, and were used with aplomb in the construction of the bath house. Furthermore (and it is on this point that I delight the most), there were a vast number of objects to climb upon and hang from in awkward positions. I had climbed up to a stone roof up from a wall, which had a variety of slightly unstable outcroppings upon which I made my uneasy footing. While exploring this, some of the guards took notice and angrily shouted at us, so we scrammed down a moderately tall wall at whose foot lay a puddle of mud. I had almost slipped in this and warned the other two about it, but nevertheless one of the others did not get a good landing and lost out to gravity, getting some of the mud on her pants. A few pictures later, we were just about ready to leave, but we had almost left one of our crew back in the ruins! The sight of him running back to catch up through the gates was cute yet pitiful, which had endeared many of the girls and garnered some chuckles from the guys.
In my next entry, I plan to sum up all of the trips we have had so far to La Marsa, a small, cozy town in the suburbs of Tunis, including the details on my host family. Be prepared for my best entry yet!
(N.B. I have been without an Internet connection for the past few days on account of some construction work being done up the street. Such as I have been doing so much during that time, a few of these entries will be delayed and perhaps outdated, yet I hope they still prove an interesting read.)
