Tunis, Between Stone and Spice

Tunis is a blend of voices, horns, and music that never quite settles. The noise travels with the scent of jasmine, grilled merguez, mint, and the slow heat of harissa. In the medina the streets narrow and the light softens. Tiny shop doors stand open, piles of goods wait for curious hands, and cats patrol the thresholds like sleepy guards. Sellers call out and compete to guide you a few steps farther.

Bargaining is a small play with familiar lines. Start around half, smile, and enjoy the scene. People are friendly and curious, at least most of them. A few see tourists as quick opportunities, so keep small change on top and your pockets closed, while your mood stays open.

Step onto Avenue Habib Bourguiba and the city takes a long breath. The Cathedral of Saint Vincent de Paul stands there, a Roman Catholic church with twin towers and a calm, stately face. It feels unexpected in the heart of a Muslim-majority capital and tells its chapter of history in stone and shadow more than words.

Return to the old city and the stalls flick by like film frames. Brass lamps, leather slippers, pyramids of dates, and generous mounds of spice. The call to prayer drifts over the rooftops while someone swears a carpet is truly Berber and offers you a cousin price.

Find a small café and order mint tea that is sweet as a promise. Tunis never hurries to explain itself. It lets you get a little lost, then leaves you with small riddles that return later, just when you think you have forgotten them.