An introduction to Tunisia
I’d always fancied going to Tunisia, and my chance finally came in November 2012 for a quick 5‑day escape.
Tunisia is a small Islamic country of around 10 million people, perched on the northern tip of Africa.
It sits on the Mediterranean, sandwiched between Algeria and Libya, and its capital Tunis is actually closer to Sicily than Algiers.
The country had recently gone through a revolution, overthrowing President Ben Ali after 23 years in power, and things were still politically unstable.
Travelling alone, I decided to check out the Couch Surfing scene in Tunis. It turned out that a group of local Couchsurfers were heading off on one of their monthly weekend trips to another part of the country. Perfect timing. I signed up online a few days before leaving home.
Arrival: Taxi Games and a dodgy Hotel
I landed fairly late at night and jumped into a taxi to a hotel I’d read about. Getting a taxi in a foreign country is always a gamble. You either get ripped off, taken the long way, or discover the meter is rigged. And if there’s no meter, you’re basically guessing.
My driver wanted 20 dinar with no meter. I insisted on using the meter, knowing the 5km journey should cost around 10 dinar (£3). I kept my eye on the meter the whole way. All seemed fine. But as we approached the hotel, he pressed a button, switched the meter off, and demanded 20 dinar on arrival.
I laughed and told him I’d seen him turn it off, and that it had shown 7 dinar about a kilometre back. He still demanded 20. I asked him to show me the meter. He pressed a few buttons and magically 27 dinar appeared.
Luckily, I had my small bag with me on the seat. I grabbed it, calmly handed him 10 dinar, opened the door, and walked straight into my hotel.
The hotel was pretty run down and cost a pricey 65 dinar. The room was musty, had fag burns in the sheets, pubes around the toilet, and looked like a 1960s ‘dodgy movie’ shoot location. But I was too tired to wander Tunis in the dark hunting for alternatives, so I took it.
I dropped my bag and went for a walk.
Tunis by Night: Hashish, Barbed Wire and Shisha
Tunis doesn’t get many tourists. Most head straight to the Mediterranean beaches on package holidays.
Within five minutes of walking, I was approached by a seedy guy in a white suit who opened with: “Hey, you must work out.”
I took it as a compliment, fully aware that 1) homosexuality is illegal here, so he wasn’t hitting on me, and 2) he definitely wanted something.
After some small talk came the line I’d been waiting for: “You want some hashish?”
I declined and continued along Avenue Bourguiba, the city’s main street. He followed behind, still trying to get my attention and lure me to a bar.
A few hundred metres later, the pavement ended at a police barricade. Crossing the road, I was surprised to see row after row of thick barbed wire, army tanks behind them, and soldiers standing around. The atmosphere was tense, but locals wandered about drinking coffee and smoking shisha like it was any normal evening.
I walked towards the medina before deciding to head back. The last thing I needed was to get lost in the maze of alleyways late at night.
Meeting the Couch Surfers
The next morning, after a hotel breakfast of hard‑boiled eggs and bread, I met two carloads of local Couch Surfers in the car park.
Most were in their late 20s or early 30s, except one older guy known as Uncle Ben, real name Tahar. They all spoke fluent English and were instantly welcoming.
We grabbed a quick coffee before hitting the road. After a few hours, we reached Chaambi National Park in the south, home to Chaambi Mountain at 1,544 metres.
As a foreigner, I was supposed to have a special permit. After some faffing around checking into a hostel and meeting various people, I was taken to meet the Park Manager on his day off to get my entry pass.
It all felt incredibly official and bureaucratic just to enter a park, but it turned out the area doubles as a military training ground.
By the time we reached the gate it was 5pm and getting dark. More waiting meant that instead of hiking to the summit, we drove up the narrow rocky road. About 100 metres from the top, the road became so bad that one of the cars overheated. That was the end of the ascent. We did a tight 67‑point turn and headed back down to the hostel.
Kasserine: Birthplace of Revolution
The hostel was in Kasserine, near where the revolution began. Mohamed Bouazizi, a local man, set himself on fire after authorities wouldn’t allow him to sell his home‑grown food. Protests spread from town to town, eventually toppling Ben Ali.
Otherwise, Kasserine is pretty dull.
That evening we had cheap, tasty soup with bucketloads of bread, followed by a trip to a bar. But this wasn’t a typical night out. Instead of beer, everyone ordered tea after tea and smoked tobacco pipes like Victorian Englishmen. It was strange at first, but refreshing to have a night out where alcohol didn’t dictate the fun. Conversation flowed, and everyone had a smile on their face. A great evening.
Roman Ruins and Holy Cities
The next day we drove an hour to Sbeitla to visit Roman ruins. The site once housed 20,000 people and covers over 70k hectares. Some ruins were in decent shape, but with the sun blazing down, I was happy to move on after a couple of hours. I’m a miserable sod when it comes to ruins.
Next stop was Kairouan, the 4th holiest Islamic city after Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. Dating back to the 7th century, it instantly felt more traditional. People wore traditional clothing, the call to prayer echoed around the walled city, and the medina was a maze of narrow stone alleyways, crumbling buildings, market stalls, and delicious smells from rickety stoves and BBQs. Arabic culture at its best.
The guys led me to a camel in a mill that produced water. The camel was blindfolded and whipped to make it walk, turning the cogs that pulled water from deep underground.
Apparently the camel arrives young and never leaves until it dies. Camel slavery. I didn’t like it. Why not just use a tap?
After more spicy cheap food, we said goodbye to several of the group and headed back to Tunis.
Staying With Uncle Ben
Tahar invited me to stay with him for the last two nights.
When we arrived, I needed the toilet. I did my business and flushed. Fifteen minutes later, Tahar went in and suddenly screamed. Worried I’d left a large floater, I ran in. Somehow I’d flooded the bathroom.
We raised the alarm to the neighbour, found a million towels, and spent ages mopping up water and filling buckets. I felt terrible. Tahar explained the flush had a certain technique and was old. He was more worried about it leaking downstairs, as he didn’t get on with the neighbour below.
Apart from nearly flooding the building, my time with Tahar was a joy. He was 72 going on 27. He’d lived in the Emirates, Italy and Ivory Coast, had daughters overseas, and knew how the world worked. He lived a healthy lifestyle, making his own jam and yoghurt, eating natural foods, and hanging out with 20‑year‑old Couch Surfers to stay young.
He took me to a food market in the medina, then for tasty fish, before meeting a French guy and going for a beer at Jamaica Bar, a foreigners’ bar with a grand view of the city from the 10th floor.
After meeting more Couch Surfers that evening, it was time to head back and sleep before flying home.
A totally memorable trip
It had been a wonderful cultural experience and showed Couch Surfing at its absolute best.
In a world where the media often portrays tension between Muslims and the West, here I was in a relatively strict Muslim country, hanging out with locals like they were my best mates.
No prejudice, no awkwardness, just people wanting to learn about each other.
It’s a trip that will stay with me forever- and gave me friends I’m still in contact with today.
About Roaming Wild
Having travelled widely as solo adventurers and as a couple, in 2025 we made a choice to go backpacking with our children and embrace worldschooling as a family.
Our philosophy has always been that life is for living, not for getting trapped on the hamster wheel.
This website brings together our past journeys and our current adventures as a family, with contributions from our kids plus other family members who love backpacking.
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