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How all started.
We are at the Tunisian port La Goulette. The ferry-boat with the participants of «THE RALLY HANNIBAL» is to arrive at any minute. We have decided with them to get familiar with Tunisia. There is a club in France called «TRACBAR». This is a group of nice people united by the same interests: all of them possess 1938-1957 Citroens. Unfortunately, that is almost all we have known about them. A few words to add: they are fond of adventures and active way of rest. That’s why every year they travel around far-away countries by their favourite cars.

The Internet site www.tracbar.com gave us some information about this club and its forthcoming projects to pay a visit to the Sahara. We liked this project; moreover, its itinerary matched the earlier one, designed by us. We decided to travel together as it is by far more thrilling. We got in touch with the rally organizers and opted for visiting this desert together.

When at the port, we thought to have missed the meeting. Four black shiny Citroens were parked in close proximity to our place. They were likely to be manufactured in the middle of the XXth century. Fortunately, we draw a sigh of relief when seeing the Tunisian car numbers. This car brand turned out to be very popular here. Besides, some local old cars fans were looking forward to welcoming their French "colleagues". Finally, the cars turned up. The first one is the oldest Citroen of the year 1938. A splendid white-dressed woman comes out of it. She seems to have been transferred quite by chance from the times when her car was manufactured. Hunching her shoulders due to a cool sea breeze she poses close to her antiquarian toy. The other cars form two lines and the united group drives out surrounded by enthusiastic applauding people. We hear united klaxons honks; a strange sound (like a grunting) is the 307 number car voice. It makes smile even the most indifferent people.

These old cars have much in common with human creatures. Their owners consider them to be their family members. They are describing the main character features, habits of their pet for a long time, stroking its sides like an Arabian horse’s crupper. All the cars go through the customs very quickly and the beautiful cavalcade, escorted by the valiant Tunisian police take the central streets of the capital to arrive at the Mayoral Office.

The city center is quite new. We can find there traditional oriental style buildings and mosques among high-storeyed buildings from glass and concrete, Catholic and Orthodox churches, theatres decorated with ornamental patterns, sparkling show-windows of shops. The central avenue reminds of the Arbat of Moscow with its openwork cast lanterns.

The Mayoral Office of Tunis is an imposing building. The traditional oriental style combined with modern tinted glass gives it original and particular features. The interior, carved ceiling and marble staircase should make envy any ancient governor. The building is so rich and so nicely furnished that you hardly dare to speak in a low voice.

The Mayor of the city of Tunis makes a solemn speech and wishes us: Bon voyage. After that we are invited to a light fourchette to celebrate our expedition start. The first floor windows overlook the splendid view of the city at night. Ancient features and modern ones. West and East. This is Tunisia. A country, quite untypical of Northern Africa.
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Ghar El Melh.
Today’s morning was the official start of the rally. Our cars caravan reaches the first stop of our travel after some hours’ drive. This is a town, located on the sea coast, - GHAR EL MELH.
The most attention-catching must is a large ancient Spanish fortress built in the fifteenth century. We should mention some other fortresses not so large as this one.
The Spanish had built lots of fortresses along the coast. Most of them are well preserved till now, surviving the Turkish conquest and other cataclysms. For example, this key fortress looks much younger than it is in reality. It is seen that it is being taken care of for curious tourists’ benefit. The fortress towers above us in a glorious way, welcoming any visitors. The beauty traps you, offering to make a tour of the top floor galleries, to look out of the tight loopholes overlooking the sea, to touch meter walls. They had been a rampart for its inhabitants some centuries ago. In fine, the view is splendid.
After visiting the fortress we find ourselves at the local port. Our cortege gathers heaps of gapers. They are gazing at the cars thoughtfully while we are having a meeting with the town Mayor.
In fact, that is he who deserves being the real must, as he is so picturesque. He wears a long black coat, a tidy suit with a neck-tie (despite the heat), tinted sunshield spectacles (in spite of the lack of sunbeams in the room). He seems to be a perfect Sicilian godfather. His appearance and speech are in a proper manner – he is self-confident, to say nothing of a bulletproof dignity as the unique and real master of the town. We can’t but interview him after the meeting. He tells that he develops tourism in his town welcoming everybody to go sightseeing and have a rest there.
After a video shooting of the fortress and the port, we continue our journey. Greenery around us. Cactuses and olives. Olives and cactuses. The sea offers a splendid range of blue colours. The people on our way are smiling and waving hands, greeting us.

Dougga, ancient Roman ruins.
On the way from Ghar El Melh to the ruins of the ancient Roman city of Dougga, we drove the road a long time, quite untypical of Africa, called here «Tunisian Switzerland».
You scarcely believe that these Alpine meadows and mountains distinguished by dense forest vegetation are to be found on the black continent. We stop many times to take pictures against the back-cloth of these picturesque parts with no sign of man. Only quite a decent serpentine road, wound to the South, is reminiscent of the civilization.

One states that in fact DOUGGA originated from a Berber word "TUKKA" (stone jack). Judging the size of this "jack", there lived at least giant birds Rouh from "1001 Nights". The town is located on the mountain slope. From its top you discover the tremendous sight of a valley covered with a sea of olive-trees. A transparent mountain air allows taking pleasure of the picturesque scenery. This ancient must is really worth going sightseeing. By the way, we can find Dougga among the historical sights under the UNESCO protection. Some excavations are under way in its neighbourhood nowadays, but the main part of the town is available for visiting.

Apart from the Romans there lived also indigenous people – the Berbers.

Having a stroll across Dougga, we feel a sacred spontaneous trembling towards the history. Just think what time immemorial these exhibits standing, sticking out and lying on the turning green grass refer to. Certainly, these thoughts don’t keep us from touching all in a casual manner. We could not but take pictures. For example, we chose such a position behind the back of a statue lacking a head so that it had one of our heads in the picture.

A sudden strange feeling comes to our mind: everything is illusion. Dougga has been abandoned by its inhabitants recently, as the majority of buildings are in good state. And even such fine elements, like a wind rose drawn on the paved roadway of the square or mosaic floors in houses.

The light town of Sbeitla.
If you are fond of picturesque sand-coloured ruins, welcome to the remains of SBEITLA, or, how the inhabitants call it - SUFETULA…

This ancient town lost in the Atlas Mountains appeals to be shot for advertising commercials or to be taken pictures of for a photo album. The rests of irreproachable columns prop a low bright blue sky. These ruins should be suitable somewhere in Rome, but not on the African continent. No doubt, it doesn’t match the described place in a children's poetry long time ago: "In Africa panthers, in Africa gorillas, in Africa big angry crocodiles". And here we come across a forum, theatre, temples of Jove, Minerva, Junona, and water tank. Come, come, is it really Africa? Nevertheless, we are still on this dry continent.

To tell the truth, the Romans built the town of SBEITLA. And they built as they could do it – similar to the cities of their far-away homeland. In the 2nd century AD they came to these lands to settle down. They knew, that they were likely to be buried here. As a result they did their best to design the city. The location was selected perfectly well – there was a crossroad of all caravans roving across the Sahara. Coming to an agreement with the Berbers, the Romans rebuilt their settlement into an eye-enticing city from stone with wide streets and comfortable buildings keeping cool air even under the scorching sky of Africa.

You can barely imagine, that people went to the theatre, had a bath in terms, prayed to Gods at the temple of Jupiter hundreds of kilometers from the sea, almost on the border with the desert. An important point to add: the temple of Jupiter is out of the ordinary. It represents an amalgamation of three separate temples, two of which are devoted to Junona and Minerva.

The market area covered the center of Sbeitla, the streets formed a circle and the rests of ancient shops where you were supposed to do the shopping. The town seems to have lasted well, but it is a false impression. Actually, unlike DOUGGA, kept in an initial state, SBEITLA was restored by archaeologists. They excavated, restoring and putting in order everything that was possible to rescue.

These thick, almost meter walls can give their evidence about many things. The flourishing city with the population of 25 000 inhabitants changed its image more than once. For example, the Byzantines took care of it in the Vth century. They strengthened Sbeitla considerably, aspiring to make it defense capacity more strong. However, these efforts didn’t keep Sbeitla from the final destroying in the VI century once for all.

But this city is still alive. We experienced it by ourselves. If you take off your sandals in sign of respect and walk barefoot on the white stone of the pavement, a miracle will occur. The common sense might give place to lively imagination for a while, and you will see its inhabitants walking in crowded streets. They greet one another one their way, exchange break news and rumours. Women hurry to the market. Children are playing in the shade of houses. "To insert" here in the past is easy to make you surprised. In fact nobody puts a stop to wander in streets, knocking at doors (existing only in your mind), to climb the rests of walls, looking down on the buildings. Somewhere in Europe, such a place would carry red warning signs at every corner. And barriers would be placed there. Fortunately for us, all is easy and free to get to in Sbeitla. We spent here half a day and had a little desire to leave. And on our going away we bought some local souvenirs, surprisingly skilful hand-made articles, cut out by local craftsmen from one-piece stone.

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The Atlas Mountains, canyons and waterfalls.
Going down farther and farther to the South, we cross the Atlas Mountains. In broad daylight they tower above us, surrounding the road, their glorious look is symmetric and tidy. At night they vanish slowly in a fantastic way in the darkness. They are not very high, but you enjoy viewing them after a long drive across boundless plains. The serpentine road allows scrutinizing them in all possible foreshortenings.

The Atlas Mountains represent ridges and a plateau stretching for more than 2000 km. They extend from Morocco, through northern Algeria, before it touches Tunisia on diagonal. You may meet both green bushes and coniferous forests on striped mountainous slopes. Stone and cork oak grows here. The highest peak reaches as high as 4000 meters.
We have a feeling that the nature regarded the mountains beauty to be not very much. And it added to them heaps of canyons and falls. And here we face the first canyon surrounded by an oasis. Vertical cuts of the rocks curve in freakish patterns enticing your attention for a long time. We admire this wild place in the shade of date palm-trees on an improvised viewing platform. It gives a splendid sight of the neighbourhood.

One more viewing platform is to be found nearby. Close to it there is a shop of an aged local, who is likely to know the ropes of advertising. At least, his attempt to attract visitors greedy for keepsakes was a success. Rushing up and down an old jingling bike in a bright red scarf around his head, he shouted in fluent French in a persuasive way that the distant platform holds a better view of the canyon. Moreover, polished souvenir semi gemstones are of superior quality, his dates are cheaper. "Besides, be conscious, I have to keep my family somehow!" This last reason was a success, and we bought something there, certainly, considering his condition.

The vicinity of the canyon offers one more must – a Berber city of ghosts. Many centuries ago it was abandoned. Nowadays only the wind blows in desert streets, making jingle a few wooden doors remained undamaged. A brief excursion of the city left to the mercy of fate is not expected to be romantic at twilight. You give a sad look at empty yards. There would be no harm in saying that we attempt to guess, for what reason and in what times the city was left. When asking the locals about it, you get a laconic answer: "Long time ago". That’s all. You don’t feel phantoms. Maybe, they are languishing in the heat like the authors of this roadbook tending to hide in the shade.

A waterfall is located several kilometers from the canyon, near the oasis SHEBIKA. According to the locals’ words, it is "the first and the one". Frankly speaking, this place of interest can’t be named "a falls". Stream, watercourse, rivulet, but the FALLS!
When we found ourselves at the entrance of a low one-storeyed building of clay colour reminding of poor small houses of the locals, we got disappointed a little. Judging its worn exterior this hotel gave an impression to be tiny and badly maintained. And how much we were looking forward to having a rest and shower after a long drive! However, when we dared to come in, we looked all round remaining open-mouthed for a long time. Fountains, marble, exclusive design and appealing luxury. The hotel turned out to be rather wide with a full set of different swimming pools, restaurants and other places to entertain visitors. It was sited on the steep slope of the mountain, towering over a precipice. Only its roof and doorway came into sight from the road. Plus, it was getting dark that also confused our first impressions of this hotel. After that we meandered through the interior a whole hour, admiring perfect architectural and design forms. The most striking of all was the rooms. Their glass walls overhang the precipice giving a fabulous view of the dry riverbed and the ruins of the old city below.

Great race over the Sahara
In the morning we strongly decided at the briefing to hold great race who will come faster. A large half of teams were looking forward to bringing back their young days and trying horse-powers on the African lack of roads.

After calculating the scores it was known, that a German team had held the first place, the third – Eric, one of the rally organizers, with his young spouse. The second one – the team of the Parisian Sylvie with her father and our Kseniya. She was the talisman and navigator of the race. Then Kseniya took the steering-wheel of their Citroen and trained herself in driving within the following stages. According to her words, the vehicle turned out to have some peculiarities of steering-gear, but it’s powerful enough and high-speed.

As a matter of fact, we should homage the rally organizers and their cars. The expedition didn’t give us any serious breakage. All cars are in a fine condition. Moreover, a maintenance crew - a group of red-shirted young guys followed our caravan. Every evening on our arrival to hotel they succeeded in examining Citroens carrying out some repair if necessary.

Salt lakes and oases.
The Russian people imagine the Africa basing on the stills of the film "White Sun of the Desert". AThe main thing we found out is that there are three types of the Sahara – stony, sandy one and the Sahara of salt lakes.

"Congealed" dunes are appropriate to stony desert. The pressed sand grows firm, alternating with stones, clay and sandstone. A wide range of vegetation, sickly bushes, grass, cactuses, thorns dominate the landscape of stony Sahara. In general, you get familiar with different kinds of plant life.

Sandy Sahara visualizes close to Douz. It conforms to the image you bear in mind about this type of desert.
The greatest salt lake of 5000 square km is called Shott el Jerid.
As a matter of fact, we gazed long enough at salty water (far from satisfying our need for liquids) and at optical illusions. We feel like finding ourselves as quickly as possible in fresh atmosphere of an oasis.
Some scenes of the well-known film "Star wars" were shot in its dunes. You can come across the rests of those spacecrafts and the constructed scenery lying till now. The sand covers them.

Douz, white gates to the desert.
On the way to Douz we got into a little sandy tempest. It’s a little threat when in a car, except almost zero visibility… .

On paying a visit to the local market, you will find a mixture of products from camel pelt, kitchenware, Berber adornments and many other things. To tell the truth, all these goods are rough a bit to a refined European liking. So you’d better look, than buy something.

Here big white gates to the desert may be found in Douz. Only boundless sand behind them. Mountains of yellowish, almost white sand.

You can’t have an easy access to a camel. You are required to get ready for it. First of all, you are given a striped chlamys and long scarf or piece of material to tie around the head and knotted on top to form
a turban.
We overcame some dunes, trying in vain to protect faces from ubiquitous sand. Shaitan took us for a drive across the Sahara during the period of winds. Though it wasn’t a real sandy storm, but the sand sticked all possible places. So we couldn’t take a liking to enjoy the stroll.

The Berber’s capital Matmata, troglodytes.

The following point of our stop-off was the capital of Berbers, the town of Matmata. This enigmatic ancient tribe had settled down in the North of Africa from time immemorial. It remembers a lot. Phoenicians, Romans, Barbarians, Osmans, Turks, Frenchmen – you can hardly enumerate all of them.
Climb the hill inside which there is a troglodytes’ house and look down. You’ll observe a big square hole at about 8-10 meters depth. This is an interior courtyard. It connects the house with the outside world through the dug multimeter narrow exit to the basis of the hill. Underground houses can be one-storeyed and two-storeyed ones. The hole walls hold the doors at the level of the floor. The door carries a number of drawn symbols – fish and prints of Fatima’s palm protecting from bad envious eyes and bringing prosperity to the house. On knocking at the door the hostess Aisha emerges, inviting us to come in.
We question Aisha about her life helped by an interpreter of the Berber language. She is a 50-year-old widower and keeps four children. The son is a bachelor. The beautiful daughter is eighteen years old; two younger children go to school. In the morning they wait for a bus on the roadway that gets them to the distant "maktab". The house includes "no more than" 8 rooms. According to her words, to live there is trouble-free, not cold in winter and not hot in summer. "Nobody builds such houses nowadays", - the woman complains. "And earlier", she goes on, "when a young man was getting married, all his relatives gathered together helping to dig a new hole in sandstone. To say nothing of arranging the dwelling for the young couple".

Aisha deals with subsistence farming - beans, wheat grow in the kitchen garden. Moreover, she has hens and goats that live nearby. All around us there is a whole Berber settlement invisible with half an eye, we may come across her relatives’ house (just hard by). Aisha is a wise and a very religious woman. The overwhelming majority of the Tunisian population relate to Moslems - Sunnites. "We should follow the precepts of Allah. Then people will be keeping in mind your name even after your death", - she repeats over and over again.

Thanking Aisha, we leave her welcoming cave making our farewells. And she goes to the hearth in a usual manner and lights a fire. The habitual daily routine starts. The children are on the point of returning from school. They will ask to eat.

The Berber’s Ksars.
The Berbers had been expelled for centuries by anyone who felt like it. And they learnt a subtle art how to survive, as nobody. Their dwellings can give their evidence – caves put out of sight in hills. Don’t forget about THE KSARS - the fortresses they built for being protected against aggressors. Sometimes KSARS were used as warehouses to stock foodstuffs.

Let your eye fall on a mixture of bastions lasted well or not. No doubt, nobody lives there, nothing to store for a long time. The majority of them are empty, maybe, except for two or three most convenient premises. Artisan’s shops with handmade souvenirs are situated in them. As a matter of fact, one of KSARS on our way possesses a commendable Berber restaurant materializing in "cave’s" rooms. We broke for having a snack there.

This fortified city is organic to your great surprise. It merges with the surrounding nature. Furthermore, it is likely to be a natural part of the landscape at first or even at second sight. Long and narrow no-windowed rooms rise in majestic succession one above another like beer honeycombs. Curved staircases with steps cut out in sandstone lead to the first and second floors. All entrance apertures differ in view of size and form. Low and strong ceilings welcome you to walk. We are looking forward to experiencing it. Besides, we climb everything that is easy to find out, discovering the rests of utensils, primitive tools and other signs of "civilization" in some premises. Finally, we get out of the must to the daylight.

KSARS were not intended to be a permanent residence of the community. As a rule, they were constructed at a certain distance from the main settlement, usually on a hill to observe the surrounding area and to see enemy coming. At peace time KSARS served fairly often as barns or warehouses to stock foodstuffs. While the life was taking its course, the fortresses were empty. As soon as Berbers faced a threat, all of them left the settlement for finding themselves in fortress, ready to fight. Surely, at present only vague hints are reminiscent of previous wars, as the fortresses are desert.

The next KSAR in the TATAOUIN area that we took a lively interest in looked as if desert and lonely. But only until dozens of our eyeful Citroens drove up to the central square. They formed a strict line in close proximity to the internal fortifications, creating colourful "crowd" in the ancient Berber town. Two white dogs visualized from anywhere as quick as lightning wagging tails in a diligent manner in sign of our respect. The local people followed them. A convivial fraternization of the Tunisian people with the rally participants took place. The locals enjoyed being taken pictures of against the backcloth of screwed cars. The Frenchmen took their address, promising to send a photo. In general, the town came to life and was set in motion. Arabic, French and other languages, laughter, hubbub, clicking shutters of cameras from everywhere. All calmed down only as soon as the arranged caravan of the numbered cars with united honks of klaxons left the fortress. No look back, no regrets. And the ancient KSAR plunged again into rest and silence, as if the Berber soldiers had left it for the last time.

Amphitheatre in El Jem.
So, we drive in the town of a delicious name El Jem. The sun is shining in an incredibly blue sky (as if the one drawn on a postcard). By the way, it is not only shining, but also is burning. However, we put faces, shoulders, arms and legs to unmerciful beams safely, having smeared ourselves beforehand with a sunburn lotion. Come, come, we miss the sun after our winter.

El Jem meets us, as it should be, namely – with music. The band is likely to be a local amateur group. It’s playing good, particularly, loudly. This is only a man's group. The united chain of silent Citroens entered the arena, bewitched by curious sounds of local music instruments this time. (Deaden the band by klaxon is out of the question).

Now the amphitheatre bleachers are restored well. From time to time a wide range of concerts and festivals occur there. Thought out by the ancient Romans acoustics allows hearing a coin sound fallen to the arena from the uppermost line of seats.

All Citroens participating in the rally made a tour of Tunisia up to El Jem with no breakage. We can’t say the same towards our new jeep "Nissan" that our film team is driving. The Nissan didn’t support a difficult mountain road in the vicinity of TATAOUIN, broke and made us spend some hours to repair. Meanwhile, the roadway runs to the North, to a coastal resort area.

Sousse, Mahdia, Monastir.
I don’t know what other people think of it, but we have a pleasure to drive along the seacoast. We admire it very much after mountainous and desert landscapes. Still cold for swimming. Transparent. Amalgamation of blue, green, grey, bright blue colours. Smoothly flowing into a low sky. Today we are driving along the coast. A bit more and we’ll be in Sousse.

Beaches and balneological resorts of this coastal city attract plenty of Russian tourists. We know very much about it. First of all, Sousse as well as Tunis (capital) and Sfax relate to the three largest and major cities of the country. Besides, it enjoys a very nice setting – a big seaport, capital of the eastern Tunisia commendable for its olive plantations. A wide territory of 250 000 hectares offers 57 million fructifying olive-trees. Tunisian olives are beyond our admiration – they’ll make you long for more. We eat greedily heaps of them every blessed day, regretting much that we will have soon neither dates, nor olives with couscous...

The city is seen at first sight to flourish. Crowd of people in wide and steep streets. Around you - hotels, restaurants, shops. Boats and yachts along the coast. The look is quite modern, industrial and rational. We can scarcely believe that the city counts more than 3000 years.

Scientists stress, that Sousse is older than the renowned Carthage.
Like Carthage, the Phoenicians founded it. The years of existence brought Sousse under frequent enemy control before it changed both "owners" and the name many times. The Phoenicians called it HADRUMETUM. After the fall of Carthage the "free city" became a Roman colony keeping its initial name. Later conquered by the Vandals (that was only short-lived) and called HUNERIKOPOLIS. Byzantium took control over the city naming it JUSTINIANOPOLIS for the third time. But it was just a start. Byzantium gave place to Arabs. The 12th century saw a Norman occupation followed by a Spanish invasion four centuries later. The Frenchmen (how can we do without them?) occupied Sousse in the 18th century. This major port viewing its strategic location was repeatedly bombed during the Second World War. However the city continues to exist, getting on well nowadays. When Justinianopolis had turned into Sousse remained unclear to us, but this name fits it.