Monastir lies on a penninsula on the Tunisian coast. A cheap mid-day flight was offered from Nice. Clearing immigration, I headed toward the airport train station. A blue metal fence blocked the way (1); thankfully, someone had hacksawed off two of the pickets. Chucking my bag through permitted me to duck under and access the station.
Formerly known as the Phonecian city of Ruspina in antiquity, the Arab city was enclosed by walls beginning in the 700s C.E. Walking from the station through a western gate, the main commercial street was buzzing with activity, and the usual cacophony of cars and shop touts. After passing the large Bourguiba Mosque, the Ribat (fortress) was visible across a park. The hotel was nearby (2) in the marina area.
The Ribat and other building are lit at night, making for a pleasant walk in the city. Scanning the horizon at the sea, I saw a lighthouse (flashing white every four seconds) to the northwest against the background of the lights from the shore.
(1) There is a path leading from a cross street in the other direction.
(2) A variety of hotels span the seacoast between the airport and city center (a). Preferring to walk places, I opted to stay in town (b). As it happened, my hotel caters mainly to French pensioners on package tours. Most guests seem never to leave the gated compound, which functions much like a cruise ship, with meals, pools, and activities, including thumping music until midnight. The reception clerk even put a wrist band on me.
(a) There is a train station called simply "Hotels."
(b) Checking in, the clerk told me (in French) that he was giving me a fancier room than booked. Later realizing my limited French, he asked if I understood. I replied in my pidgin French that he was giving me a fancy sea-view room. "No," he replied in French "a room with a view of the cemetery," he said with a mischevious smile.
Olive groves, view from the plane
The train arrives at Monastir
City gate
The Monastir Ribat
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