171 -Dougga & Hammam Mellegue (Northwest Tunisia)
DOOOO-GA! DOOOO-GA! DOOOO-GA! Our guide in Bulla Regia recommended we check out the ancient Roman city of Dougga (Thugga) forty minutes northeast of El Kef. She said it was the best archaeological site in Tunisia, if not North Africa, and we'd be assholes not to check it out. (I might be paraphrasing a tad).
We arrived in El Kef in the evening, found suitable lodging on the outskirts, and ventured to the center for a nibble. We tried to eat at the hotel restaurant, but they weren’t serving dinner. Why would they? The grumpy gentleman behind the reception desk deigned to recommend an overpriced restaurant in town. Merci beaucoup, monsieur.
I think I ate mutton again, but couldn’t be sure. Unidentifiable meat doesn’t necessarily taste good. Weird. I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that Tunisian food is generally decent. It can get repetitive, but that has much to do with selection, the language barrier, and my comfort with menu items I recognize and enjoy—to include Tunisian salad (tomatoes, cucumbers, and tuna), fish soup, couscous, Tunisian spaghetti with the spicy harissa sauce, a shit ton of bread, olives, all things chicken, and a breaded pastry known as brik (stuffed with egg, tuna, or a host of other ingredients).
Come the morning, we mounted the Punto and set out for Doooo-GA, hailed as “the best preserved Roman small town in North Africa” by UNESCO, which designated the area a World Heritage Site in 1997. It was a highlight of my Tunisian sojourn, as “enchanting” as the Lonely Planet describes it. The weather was optimal (mild temperatures and a refreshing breeze), the panorama pleasing to behold, the tourist population tolerable (notwithstanding the large group of obstreperous Chinese tourists), and our archaeologist-guide was knowledgeable and coherent. It’s staggering to consider the level of sophistication achieved by the Roman architects and the intricacies of their society. You can almost imagine what life would’ve been like in this Roman outpost smack dab in the heart of the empire’s bread basket.
Top photos: evidence of Nazi Occupation; Bottom photos: evidence of the swastika's ancient origins
“The swastika is a symbol with many styles and meanings and can be found in many cultures.”
In the fog of child-like glee, I may have gotten carried away with my Nikon. As Leslie put it, “We spent the afternoon roaming around the ancient city, going camera crazy. It was there that I learned how much Rich enjoys having his picture taken. There is a term we like to use back home, but I’m afraid my parents wouldn’t approve.” How. Dare. You. I believe “attention whore” is the indelicate term to which you refer, ma’am. Had you not been following my blog, where one can find many self-absorbed pictures of moi doing me-like things with me, myself, and I? C’mon, woman!
Thing is, sometimes pictures need people for context and scale, and it became a creative challenge photographing myself with a timer and assload of patience. It’s not that I’m fucking awesome (though clearly that’s the case), it’s just after a while, you almost feel you have to prove to yourself you were actually there. And this may be a stretch, but I’d like to think having photos with you in them helps bring back the memories embedded within. Or I’m a shameless sociopathic narcissus with a divinely inspired mandate to share my visage with the world. To-may-to, to-mah-to. In hindsight, I didn’t take enough of pics of my perfectly shaped ass.
Photo by Leslie Peralta
Leslie is not blameless. Oh, no, she’s not. I pined for a travel chum with as much enthusiasm for photography as I. When I found her, I became giddy as a schoolboy… or some shit. It felt like a creative collaboration and fueled my affection for the wee lass. Now that I’ve addressed this egregious slight to my character, I’ll move on.
We left Dougga feeling like we returned from a half-day excursion into the past. Two words: Fucking magnificent. It was then back to El Kef for a brief respite and late lunch, followed by a trip west to simmer inside an 1800-year-old Roman bathhouse that’s changed little over two millennia.
The drive to Hammam Mellegue under the setting sun made the trip worthwhile. The baths themselves, situated on a hill overlooking a river valley, were intriguing but not quite the “unbelievably relaxing hot water soak” I'd read about. Entering the subterranean bathing room (men's side), I half expected to catch Julius Caesar splashing around in the pool. Instead, it was five Tunisian seniors splashing in their underwear. Yeah, baby. The pool is an 8 ft by 12 ft rectangle with approximately two feet of water with little room for more than a handful of bathers. It was a fairly relaxing experience (about a six on a scale from one to ten) made more difficult while listening to loud Tunisian men ramble on about Allah knows what. Were you lucky enough to find yourself alone, I’m sure the experience would be sublime, if not slightly spooky. Go. (The video below is from a random Italian on YouTube. The quality is poor, but you get the idea.)
“…We eventually laid our heads to rest in the city of Le Kef due to its close proximity to Dougga: a UNESCO World Heritage Site, said to be the best preserved Roman city in all of Africa. The setting and site were fantastic. We hired a guide who happened to be an archaeologist, providing tours between excavations. She was a wealth of knowledge and certainly worth the extra 20 dinar. Without her, the experience would have been good, but definitely not great (it helps to know what you’re looking at). We spent the afternoon roaming around the ancient city, going camera crazy. It was there that I learned how much Rich enjoys having his picture taken. There is a term we like to use back home, but I’m afraid my parents wouldn’t approve.
We ended the day by making a trip to Hammam Mellegue for a relaxing soak, Roman style. The baths, fed by hot springs, have remained virtually unchanged for the past 1800 years. It wasn’t exactly what we were expecting, but still a worthwhile experience. Picture me, practically naked (okay, not that part), surrounded by Turkish women in a dark mud hut, sitting in 3 feet of water, bathing… scrub-a-dub-dub!”
Leslie Peralta, “Box Of Sin, Mystery Meat, And Roman Ruins” — Soledad: Notes From My Travels