Christmas At The End Of The Road

When Ibn Battutah visited Tunis in 1325 he had barely set off on his epic journey from Morocco to virtually all corners of the known world. Arriving at what was then one of the greatest cities of the East, he had a sudden attack of feeling sorry for himself:

"So at last we reached the town of Tunis, and the townsfolk came out to welcome the travellers. On all sides they came forward with greetings and questions to one another, but not a soul said a word of greeting to me, since there was none of them that I knew. I felt so sad at heart on account of my loneliness that I could not restrain the tears that started to my eyes, and wept bitterly. But one of the pilgrims [he was travelling in company with Haj pilgrims to Mecca], realizing the cause of my distress, came up to me with a greeting and friendly welcome, and continued to comfort me with friendly talk until I entered the city..."

Although in better shape than old Ibn after more than seven months on the road, I could feel some sympathy for his plight passing Xmas away from family and friends in a place where there is barely a trace of festive spirit to be found. Its quite disorientating to find life so absolutely normal all around you at such a time.

Still, you make the best of things, and a trip to Tunis Cathedral to attend 'not quite midnight' mass at least offered up a passingly familiar rendition of Silent Night, sung in French in the company of a packed congregation of black africans immigrants and French tourists. We spent Xmas day itself visiting the magnificent Bardo Museum, with its superlative collection of Roman mosaics showing lively scenes of everyday life, and a fair collection of marble statues of nubile young gods such as Venus wearing not a lot of present wrapping. The big day was rounded off with a slap up Mrs Miggins meal at a fancy restaurant sporting a pint size Xmas tree (the first I have seen). It was all rather convivial and turned out to be quite an enjoyable day all factors considering.