The magic of the moon.. Tour in Tunisia

From desert, to the sea, to the... moon!

 

The magic of the moon

The Moon.. Present, unchanging for centuries and yet so different and so new each time. The Moon, though absent from the sky, magically accompanied my journey through the whole longitude of the North of Tunisia.

The door of the desert

We start from Djerba, almost a satellite of the country. The sun is already high. The company is large, but strangely silent. Everyone expects that spark that can ignite a passion for souls, in the long journey together. Women crouching down preparing the bread on the stone. The spark comes almost at the end of the day. We are at the gates of the desert: Douz. A horse ships face the sea of golden dunes. These animals flemmosi so placid us at sunset in the silence of the sand. Mountains in front of me changing grains scattered by the wind. All around the silence, solitude. Coming back, I turn to the west, the sun blinds my eyes, I see a child lying on a stone in the garden of silence.

Planet Tatooine

The day, full time, take the road, pay the joy that had given us so much beauty. Crossing a fast stretch crystalline, sparkling under the rays of the Sun: the Chott el Djerid. Immense. Seeking the horizon. I get lost. Strange tongues of water emerging from time to time. Red water. The temptation is strong to gather with your hands. Immediately the water dries, the hands remain choppy, white. All of a sudden a basin of lush green palms: the Corbeille. The luxuriant nature so that he could not give fruit like the fingers of light. We are in Tozeur. Difficult to imagine the poem of famous songs. The walls of the old town will repair the hot sun The walls of small red brick courtyards hiding witnesses to the light long ago. Eat ceramic bowls in the traditional cous cous with vegetables and chicken. Again the sunset. Once again the magic of the desert there kidnaps. We are aboard a powerful off-road climb that high dunes: downhill fast with the heart in my throat and then climb the dunes irte and still down, still the fastest. This strange ottovolante us relive the emotions of childhood. Now suddenly the last dune discovers a village ever seen. Properties of gypsum. Domes. Turrets. Antennas. It 'really a different planet.

The Mecca

It 'still dark when we start the new day of travel. The voices of the group on the emotions try keeps me awake. E 'l'alba. E 'market day in Gafsa. The market for animals. Cows, sheep, goats, but also chickens, chickens, even dromedaries. The Sun is at its peak when we come to the holy city. Giant tanks will demarcate the entrance. I am a pilgrim. I could be. Wearing the traditional habit. Just set foot in the yard a strange fascination surrounds me. Gain the luminous center of the square. Hundreds of columns of Roman and Byzantine decorate the porch that surrounds it. Even pieces of Roman history attached on the walls of the minaret. I approach the room in prayer. The entrance is forbidden. Please none. On the floor and the columns of the mats. Even the interior is very striking: sheltered from the Sun, almost dark, the magical atmosphere of the niche that indicates the mecca. I miss the feeling going to the Mosque known as the Barber. The coating in majolica, the stucco plaster, wood inlays make it one of the jewels of the Arabic. The medina of Kairouan revives me with the merchants, the customers, craftsmen weavers of carpets, colors, fragrances. We are in the fortress. Choose to accept the night in jail on Narghile smoking.

Fire and flames in Carthage

In Tunis, we expect a torrid climate, sultry. The Sun is veiled. The pleasant walk in the souk, turn into hell crossings. There is a lack of air, no breath. The morning is the little emotions. Bardo arrived at, however, never seen a show. Before our eyes hundreds of Roman mosaics decorate the walls of this building. Infinite color chip cards make up the pleasures of life, flora, fauna, myths, the muse. Advancing in the rooms of the palace. Pictures of many embroidered with stone leave us astonished. And 'art in its full glory, without time, without space. The view of the mosaics us back to Roman times. E 'Carthage. More than anything, I am ashamed of the port. A perfect circle. Reconstruction highlights the shelter of the boats, commercial but especially terrible Trireme that dominated the Mediterranean. In the sky I see columns of black smoke. Screams, flames, groans. Delenda est Cartago. In the top of the hill the sun came to rest on the white house. It 'almost sunset.

Palms, olives, savage beasts

We are close to the coast and the scent of the sea is becoming more intense. It 'a beautiful day of sun along the sandy shores of thousands of people. Dressed women are immersed in water crystalline. Below the sea away, leaving the soft sand. We have fish cooked on the fire. The flavor is intense, the meat tender. The sea is generous with the land. It 'the last meal. The light filters through the grate above our heads. E 'a dark tunnel, carved into stone. The strong smell of the animals we close the nostrils. Wagon to move the powder falls from the ceiling. E 'il momento. With a pulley lift us from underground. For a moment I can not open his eyes. We're inside the arena. A huge circus built here to honor the magnificence of Rome: El Djem. Thirty meters in height, three sets of stairs, up to thirty thousand people, make it one of the largest amphitheaters in the world. Why here? What wealth could make this province so far away from town teacher? Salgo all the steps up to the staircase. I protrudes outside of the arches. An expanse of olive trees as the eye can see. Thousands, millions of trees that gave fruit for the valuable oil. Here is what gained the empire from the city of Thyrsus. Roasted meat, skins of red wine, music, percussion, strings, flutes. The spectacle of the circus is over. The audience leaves the sidelines.

the village of troglodytes

The moon. White, illuminated by the sun From there monitors. Follows our path and marks. We reach a vantage point on the hills of Matmata. Around the void, only to catch up to the arid hills, time right now to the left. Nothing else. Imagine all the lunar landscape of the immense done anything ever. For a moment the silence pervades the whole group. Strange houses dug into the rock are home to life. Narrow tunnels and deep within us. Amid a great time to open the sky to let in the sun The stone keeps the heat outside. Inside, simple furnishings adorn the cool caves. A woman offers us just baked bread and olive oil together. Above the entrance to the hands and the fish to take out the spirits. See more from the road craters hiding houses and lives. E 'life on earth and the earth. Try again to enter. Strange flowing to our door step. Steel tubes along the tunnels. Vents, grates, antennas. Fantasy takes us back out of the solar system. Ships on the horizon. The sea is our last obstacle. The cross easily. We are once again on departure. Join on the map all the points. A perfect circle. The blank page does resemble the moon.

The magic of the moon

The plaintive song of women accompanied by a melancholic music of stringed instruments, drums and bells, I am sleeping. We are at the end of this long journey. I go out in the dark. The palm trees greet me moved by the wind. I follow the star most shining of the sky. Wanted the Moon. To my right behind the clouds the sun peeping me at the thought of beautiful emotions experienced on this earth. Leave Tunisia aware that I can no longer relive so intensely.

Massimo Bernardi