Tozeur, Tunisia

Catchup Postage: Tozeur

The clouds continued to thicken as we pushed south from Haidra yesterday afternoon. By the time the first russet Saharan sand shadows appeared downwind of each low bush in the ever more dry landscape, sparse fat raindrops were dying in dark patches on the ground.

We pulled into Tozeur after dark and stepped out this morning into the palm shaded oasis town that has served the Saharan trade routes for millennia. Tozeur is a Berber town famous for its distinctive decorative brickwork which is said by some to reflect the design motifs of Berber carpets.

Amber, Patrick and I decided we'd start the day slowly by hunting down a café in the main street where we could indulge in copious quantities of mint tea and a shisha pipe while checking out the goings on. On the way I was startled by the sudden appearance at my shoulder of a hanging camel's head with pendant ropy thoracic tract. Jeez! Why not just a sign? "Fresh camel meat!"

Speaking of signs, this one added mystification to surprise:

Any guesses? Beware Algerian militants? Spontaneously erupting buses? Parking bay for large vehicles on fire? Some simple graphics apparently aren't that simple...

Just down the road from this enigmatic sign is an entrance to the medina with its welcome shaded alleys and cool breezeways. Reminders of Tozeur's history as a former outpost of the Roman Empire are scattered throughout the medina, where weathered Roman stone columns and immense trunks of ancient palm trees share the duty of supporting the arches of public squares.

An hour or so of aimless exploration found us debating the most direct return route and our pause provided the opportunity for an enterprising young Berber man to offer to show us "The Spanish House". We almost declined. We would have been fools if we had. An unremarkable door beneath the courtyard arches opened onto a darkened flight of stairs that climbed through ninety whitewashed degrees into one of the most beautiful houses I have ever seen.

We stepped from the dry furnace of the courtyard into a refuge of cool darkness interspersed with starbursts of light admitted through the perforated golden dome above. Above the tracery of an intricate stucco frieze, the soft aura of the dome drew our eyes upward and proved so entrancing to Amber that she walked straight into the fountain drain that occupied the center of the floor and narrowly avoided sprawling face first on its magnificent but unforgiving inlaid marble.

Stacked around this gorgeous central space were other equally beautiful sanctuaries accessed by further flights of stairs or shuttered behind beautiful wooden doors. In a tiny loft bedroom another cupola pierced with star-shaped stained glass ports cast pools of coloured light across a bed draped in luscious brocade spreads. Believe me: I'd love to post more photos for you, but I've got another 15 posts to deliver before I've caught up to today. Maybe later...

Here's a detail of the bathroom. The bath is marble and in expansive Roman style, but the room too small to fit it all in with the lens I'm using. It'd be a shame to distort the perspective any further by using a wider one too...

On the roof adjacent to the main room's dome is the home's kitchen. In contrast to the cool darkness of the lower rooms, the confines of the kitchen is a light-filled eyrie positioned to make the most of the desert breeze and the view across the rooftops and palms of the medina. Oh to breakfast at this table! Jealous, jealous, jealous, jealous, jealous...

Our guide, who lived in the venerable Berber house across the courtyard, told us that this building originally belonged to a Spanish trader (or was it missionary - I must make more timely notes!) and was now owned by an Italian man who was currently "in the desert". We wondered if the current owner knew that his caretaker was making a few dollars on the side by showing people through his house in his absence. I hope so - the house is a delight, the owner's taste impeccable and it would be a shame for the lucky few the Berber lad entices to be unwelcome visitors.

We spent the late afternoon wandering in search of a famous Imam's tomb in the cool of the palmerie, where the springs of the Tozeur oasis water hundreds of thousands of date palms, producing fruit that's been famous for centuries. Alas! The sun set before we found the Imam's tomb and dusk was heavy and our feet aching by the time we returned to the campsite in town.

No matter though: It's difficult to imagine anything topping the glory of the Spanish House as the highlight of our day.