Only two hours from Paris by plane, Tunis is a city of ancient Roman ruins, chaotic Middle Eastern markets and grand French boulevards. At times, Tunis can feel like any other large European city, with modern technology companies sprouting out of new developments on the outskirts, with freeways and trolly lines criss crossing the city. Yet sometimes, between the last call to prayer and the sip of a hot mint tea in an ancient cafe, it feels distinctly North African. Tunis is not only compelling for visitors with of its assault on the senses, it is also the scene of some of the most important moments in 21st century politics and history.
Tunisia was the first and, so far, only successful democratic revolution to come out of the Arab Spring. After decades of dictatorship, young Tunisians brought down the regime and are now in the process of building a new, democratic Tunisia. However the direction of the country is yet to be determined. In the dusty coffee shops and cafes of the medieval medina, locals argue over the pros and cons of democracy, dictatorship and Islam. Did the stability of the dictatorship help keep unemployment low? Did the revolution give power to Islamist groups? And if so, what does that mean for Tunisia’s liberal and secular youth? One would be hard pressed to find another city in the world where these different world views are being so openly discussed.
By Walker Dawson
Sunset over the medina of Tunis, a vast district of winding lanes, shops, mosques and mausoleums.
Street musicians performing on Avenue Habib Bourguiba, named after the country’s first president after independence from France in the 1950s.
Lined with open air coffee shops and restaurants, Avenue Habib Bourguiba is considered the Champs-Elysées of Tunis. The avenue was the epicenter of mass protests in 2011 when the Arab Spring began.
Weeks of sustained protests finally led to the downfall of the dictatorship, ushering in a new area of democracy.
A local resident on one of the medinas back alleys.
The front steps of the Al-Zaytuna Mosque, the heart of the medina quarter.
The Al-Zaytuna Mosque, which was built in 732 using pieces from the ruins of Carthage.
Typical Tunisian door fronts. The tradition of nail-decorated doors was originally introduced to North Africa by the Andalusians of Spain. The Tunisians mastered this art and now these painted doors became one of the characteristics of North African homes.
Café du Souk, located in the heart of the medieval quarter, attracts young folks looking for a place to watch soccer games, smoke shisha and drink tea or coffee.
Traditional North African bath houses are an integral part of the regions culture. Bath houses in Tunisia go as far back as 145 AD during the Roman period in Carthage.
El-Kachachine Hammam has been around for over 400 years, a holdout from the Ottoman era when Turkish bathhouses peppered the medina quarter.
However, the bathhouse has fallen on hard times since the Arab Spring. Foreign tourism is down in Tunisia. For more on the situation of traditional Tunisian bathhouses, check out this article by Simon Speakman Cordall: http://www.tunisia-live.net/2014/01/19/a-tale-of-two-hammams/
On the outskirts of Tunis, the expansive Bardo National Museum houses one of the largest art collections in the Middle East.
Housed in a 15th century palace, the museum contains one of the finest and most extensive collection of Roman mosaics in the world. Tunisia was once an integral part of the Roman Empire.
Barbed wire surrounding the French embassy in downtown Tunis.
Cathédrale Saint-Vincent-de-Paul de Tunis, built in 1897. Tunis is a city of mosques, catholic cathedrals and even a Jewish synagogue.
Vast Amazonian jungle is not always the first thing that comes to mind when people imagine Peru. However, the Peruvian Amazon covers 60% of the country and a remarkable 96% of its fresh water eventually drains into the Amazon basin.
This time I had a Peruvian friend, Marissé, who was willing to accompany me on a jungle adventure. She has family in Lamas, a enchanting town in the hills near Tarapoto. So we decided to head there and make a few stops along the way.
The sweltering jungle rainforest metropolis of Tarapoto lies at the edge of the Andean foothills and the boundless jungle. The muggy streets are packed with mototaxis, three wheeled motorcycles, and stalls piled high with fresh fruit. The locals almost sing when they speak Spanish and are exceedingly friendly.
Tarapoto is popular vacation destination for Peruvians, usually the gringos head to Iquitos. During the 80’s Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) terrorized the Amazon jungle and the central highlands. Years of coca cultivation and trafficking followed in these regions. Thus for many years large areas in Peru were off limits to travelers, but now it is mostly safe and the burgeoning Peruvian middle class is taking advantage of the their country’s natural wealth.
The jungle is worlds away from the chaos of dusty Lima and the breathless colonial, Andean cities. It is a land of plenty. Seemingly every plant can be eaten or used in some way. There will always be dinner. What they lack in modern amenities they more than make up for in spirit. No trip to Peru is complete with out a journey into the jungles of Peru.
We descended through conical, forested hills into the lush and sticky market town of Tingo Maria.
Resting adjacent to the town in a hill that the locals refer to as La Bella Durmiente (Sleeping Beauty). They say she was princess of one of two tribes who was secretly in love with the other tribe’s prince. When the elders found out she was turned into stone.
Mototaxis dominate the jungle streets. They can tackle anything from flooded streets to bumpy dirt roads.
We could have wander the market all day eating unknown fruits and drinking the freshes juices. Like all markets in Peru it was chaotic, raw and full of life, but the market in Tingo was the craziest. We were lured to the mountains of salted river fish by the pungent smell.
Armadillo was just one of the many animals, alive and dead, that were on sale in the market.
After a bumpy 8 hour journey through former narco country we arrived in Juanjui. We rode with a cop who explained that this inaccessible region was a hotbed of coca, but since the creation of a new police force in Juanjui that activity has decreased. In remote regions coca is preferable because of its accessibility compared to other heavier crops.
As we sat alongside the surging Rio Huallaga a girl brought her pig for a drink.
From Juanjui we took a combi (shared van) to Tarapoto, the department’s largest city and economic hub. The family seated in front of us was bringing what appeared to be a juvenile jaguar pelt to sell in the market.
Tarapoto and the surrounding area have been inhabited for hundreds of year. In many places the jungle has been tamed for the cultivation of numerous crops and cattle grazing.
While searching for a waterfall we discovered a clandestine aguardiente still. The friendly family running it were using a rudimentary machine to mash the juice out of the sugar cane. They fed what was left over to the cows.
One of the children looks on while his brother mashes the suger cane.
A bottle of Aguardiente cost around .50 cents.
The hills around Tarapoto are often shrouded in clouds and flush with waterfalls.
Majas soup is a speciality in the region. It was very tasty.
Napoleon sells masks near the main plaza in Tarapoto.
The best place to start in any city or town is the market. A group of colorful, young men wandered the market singing and dancing, trying to make an extra buck.
They danced their way through the market.
Cars are rare in the jungle. Motorcyles and scooters are common.
We were wondering why there were pictures of this man all over Tarapoto. Turns out he is a homeless man who spends his days cleaning the streets of the city. He is a local hero.
By far one my favorite meals in Peru. The Upscale restaurant served typical food from the jungle with a little extra flare. We tried chonta salad made from buttery heart of palm and avacados and sampled four types of Juane. Juane is one of the main dishes in the jungle. It is rice, olives, hard boiled eggs and meat, wrapped in a bijao leaf and boiled. We tried river shrimp, fish, pork and chicken (the most common.)
In the hills above Tarapoto where the temperature is noticably cooler lies the enchanting town of Lamas. My friend has a chacra (small farm) on the outskirts of the town. We decided to brave the mosquitos and spiders to sleep there.
As the night engulfed us on the chacra an array of bright stars illuminated the night.
The next morning we discovered Virginia, the neighbor and caretaker, preparing aji, a salsa made from spicy, native peppers
This was her father Jose.
Her mother was happy to host us for breakfast.
Boiled pijuayo (peach palm) and coffee for breakfast.
A typical home in the jungle. The houses usually have a second level for sleeping.
The father of Jean, the little boy, asked me to be his godfather. I said I would think about it, but soon he was telling everyone that I was his godfather. So its pretty much official.
HIs energetic sister wanted me to try all the different fruits she could find.
Ciruela (similar to a plum) was one of my favorite new fruit discoveries. Fruit is free in the jungle because it is growing everywhere. I found a tree and was eating these all day long.
We walked to a community deeper in the jungle where people were gathering to play football. While the men played the women made white clay pots.
She was tending to the fire while the pots baked.
A typical jungle lunch of rice, beans, a little bit of pork and of course bananas. Bananas are used in what seems like every dish in the jungle.
Resting in the shade.
The winding road through the Cordillera Azul, the Blue Mountains, was stunning.
A last glimpse of the jungle before we crossed up and over into the Andes.
In Europe the road less traveled leads directly to Macedonia. A land of stunning natural beauty, an eclectic mix of ancient history and modernity and some of the most welcoming people on the continent.
At every turn I was welcomed with open arms, offered coffee, followed quickly by a shot (or two) of rakiya, a strong fruit brandy, and often food followed. This is not the cold Europe that many have come to expect. In fact it is more reminiscent of an Ottoman and Soviet infused dreamland.
The landscape is absolutely stunning from the glittering shores of Lake Ohrit to the steep cliffs of Matka Canyon. Unfortunately, as is the case across much of the former Yugoslavia, industry has disappeared, and along with it went the jobs and the social safety net. While everything is relatively cheap, the average wage is the lowest in Balkans at less than $400 per month.
Jobs are increasingly scarce in Macedonia’s slumping economy, however the younger generation is tapping into the global, digital gold rush. In Veles I met a professional video game player. A few of his friends are part of a ring of over 100 fake new websites based in Veles that tapped into the US economy by spreading fake news. It turned into a very lucrative hobby as the US election heated up.
Corruption runs rampant and is clearly visible in the capital, Skopje, currently undergoing a massive government-led transformation. Most Macedonians think that the money is being misused. Giant statues of Alexander are great, but all the money could be spent in far more productive way. The roads are full of potholes and crucial infrastructure is crumbling. Turns out construction is a wonderful way to launder money and this is not lost on the people. They voiced their disgust with the ruling party during the Colorful Revolution this past summer, but so far it was only a small step in the right direction.
Macedonia is immune to labels and endlessly fascinating. Part Balkan, part Mediterranean and rich in Greek, Roman and Ottoman history, this tiny country has much to offer. Ultimately I would return simply for the people. It is not too late to explore Macedonia and experience a little known slice of Europe before it lurches out of obscurity.
Through couchsurfing I me a guy traversing the Balkans in a van. We decided to drive to Macedonia together. After corrupt border officials held the van for hours, we were finally let through and set off to find a obscure village in the rural Macedonian hills. This is the village we stumbled upon.
The village was Rusjatsi (Русјаци) in the western hills of Macedonia. As we pulled up, we ran into Simon. Here he is standing on top of the guesthouse he is constructing in the center of the village. He had recently returned from Australia, after spending the last 35 years there in the ‘special forces.’
In typical Macedonian fashion Simon immediately quickly invited us in to his home and offered us coffee, followed by whiskey and beer. We ended up staying with him for two nights.
Feeling slightly buzzed from the potent mix of beverages, Simon offered to show us around the village.
Upon returning to his house it was clear that word had spread quickly of our arrival.
Simon’s next door neighbor was Milosim Vojneski, the mayor of Macedonia Brod. Later that evening he too invited over for a more coffee and Rakija.
All across the former Yugoslavia, industry has collapsed. Leaving many towns, like Macedonia Brod much worse off than they were during days of Yugaslavia when there was a big arms factory nearby. It is not uncommon to hear people longing for the good old days when work and wives were plentiful.
I set up camp in the mayor’s back yard.
It was Sunday and we were wandering the streets of Macedonia Brod looking for a place to eat. I asked this man if he could point me in the right direction. Instead he invited me into his home and his mother quickly prepared coffee, while the father fetched the rakiya. As we drank they harvested some tomatoes, peppers and corn from their small garden and served them to us with big hunk of Sirene cheese from their farm outside of the town. Sirene is a brined cheese like feta. We could not have asked for better meal.
After returning to Rusjatsi, I ventured off on my own to explore. As I was taking pictures of the donkey, this woman invited me in for coffee.
Stepping into their home was like going back in time.
Turns out their children live in Chicago. One is a barber. They had a little shrine of all the items their kids had sent them. Everything was untouched in its original packaging, They didn’t know how to open the plastic packaging.
It was to be our last night in Rusjatsi so Peter’s pal, Slavko, cooked us feast. He piled pork, potatoes, onions and chillies in the wood fired stove and cooked it to perfection. Great way to end our stay in the obscure Macedonian village.
After a few days in rural Macedonia I headed out on my own to the capital Skopje, which lies on the banks of the Vardar River.
The center of Skopje is undergoing a massive transformation.
Alexander the Great towers over everyone.
Last summer anti government protests erupted in Skopje when the President stopped the ongoing investigations of the Prime minister and dozens of other politicians involved in a wiretapping scandal.
Protesters threw paint filled balloons at government buildings, statues and monuments. The colors have been left as a constant visual reminder of the corrupt government.
Crawling through the streets of Skopje is a fleet of new Chinese knockoffs of London’s classic Routemaster double decker busses.
The oldest references to Skopje’s Old Bazaar date back to the 12th century. It was damaged numerous times during the 20th century, but it is still going strong and full of cafes and mosques.
No trip to Macedonia is complete without tasting the Kebapi at Destan, Skopje’s oldest Kebapi spot in the Old Bazaar.
I ate burek every morning with a glass of yogurt. There were usually three options: meat, spinach and cheese. It is similar to quiche with croissant crust.
I ran into the owner of my hostel in a the city park practicing axe throwing. Never know when it could come in handy.
Shutka, the gypsy capital of the world, lies on the outskirts of Skopje. As one of the largest Romani towns in the world, it is the only place where Romani language is the official language and taught in primary school.
It is also home to cheap and bustling street market.
It is a wonderful place to wander around, shop, eat and meet people.
Like this guy, the local goose walker.
Or this happy guy.
A mosque in the center of Shutka.
Just west of Skopje is Matka Canyon. The canyon area is home to several historic churches and monasteries dating back to the 14th Century, including St. Andrew’s Monastery which contains frescoes painted by Jovan the Metropolitan.
I was invited by a friend to visit her home in Veles. The city made international news in 2016 when it was revealed that a group of teenagers were controlling over 100 websites producing fake news articles in support of U.S. presidential candidate Donald Trump, which were heavily publicized on the social media sites like Facebook.
My friend’s grandma rocking traditional clothing.
Her parents spent all afternoon preparing a delicious dinner of succulent pork, juicy chicken, and stuffed peppers, followed by homemade mastika (Macedonian ouzo.)
I never expected to end up in Albania, but once I did, and tasted the delicious burek and coffee, met wonderful people and experienced the untapped beauty, I had a difficult time leaving.
Albania was under the tight grip of communism for nearly 50 years. Enver Hoxha ruled the country with an iron fist as the commander-in-chief of the armed forces from 1944 until his death in 1985. During his rule Albania declared itself the first atheist state and destroyed many religious artifacts. Communist rule collapsed in 1991 and the country has been rapidly opened itself up to the world since.
Now it is a land of opportunity, just starting to crank it into high gear. You can sense an eagerness to embrace western culture. Unfortunately corruption runs rampant and the average salary is hovering around $300 a month. This does make the country cheap for travelers who can take advantage of the wealth of natural beauty and history. The best part is that you can do it without running into any other tourists. Lets go on a journey back to the days when coffee and tobacco ruled and family was the only law. Visit now before its too late.
I started my Albanian adventure in Shkodër. A city in the north overlooked by an impressive medieval castle built by Venetians, and crisscrossed by wide communist-era boulevards.
We woke up at the crack of dawn and drove deep into the Albanian Alps to Lake Koman. At the small dock we watched as ferries and boats were loaded up with people, goods and cars.
We hopped on a boat and headed out as spectacularly green cliffs plunged into the water all around us. After a short ride we rented kayaks and explored on our own.
We arrived at a farm after a hour or so. There were chickens and donkeys, grapes and fruit trees. We were welcomed in (for a small fee) and served a tasty fish lunch.
On the outskirts of the Skoder I stumbled upon a Roma community (behind the fisherman).
Some lived in pretty standard houses, while others like this family, lived in huts amongst mounds scraps and junk.
A Roma girl inspects me from her families encampment filled with things they had collected.
After a few days in the north I settled into Tirana, the capital of Albania. I was lucky enough to find a great couchsurfing host.
Albania, like the rest of the Balkan countries, is small. My host had a car so we decided to drive to the coast about an hour from Tirana.
The Byzantine Forum (Macellum) is in the center of the coastal city of Durrës. Greedy and corrupt politicians have sanctioned big, ugly developments next to and on top of ancient ruins across the city.
Constructing houses and other developments is a great way to launder money.
Albania was under communist control from 1946-1992. The country is home to lots of communist era statues and military bunkers.
We arrived at the Cape and were greeted with a beach all to ourselves and clear blue water.
Not a bad place to spend a few days relaxing.
After the Cape we headed south to Beat.
Overlooking Berat, one of the world’s oldest continually inhabited cities, from the old citadel. One of the most refreshing aspects of the country is that there is the tourist infrastructure.
Back on the valley as the sun set.
The old city of Berat.
No rules apply to the Albanian streets and roads.
After Berat we drove for a while longer into Osum Canyon
A shephard grazes his sheep along the main highway into Tirana.
Albania is littered with ugly incomplete buildings. This is the most glaring example in downtown Tirana.
A young boy practices football in the little play area in the center of my block of apartment buildings.
The central market after the rain stops.
People smoke a lot of cigarettes across the Balkans and Albania is no exception. There is a tobacco section in the market where you can buy half kilos straight from the farm for cheap..
The driving in Albania is insane. Seems like there are no rules, or lines on the street
Coffee plays an important part in everyday life in Albania. This young woman enjoys an expresso during a warm summer afternoon.
Bagan is home to Myanmar’s precious “Valley of a Thousand Temples”. It is a place quite unlike anything you’ve ever seen, a landscape that is both barren, and vibrant, and host to an ancient culture that is in the midst of modernization.
All over Bagan, there are thousands of temples tucked away, hidden between trees and cliffs. These temples, though ancient, are made surprisingly accessible to the public, with some allowing people to climb through their dusty passages. A recent law by the government has now restricted this, in an effort to preserve these beautiful structures.
There are many questions left to be answered regarding this modernization, especially with regards to the new youth of Myanmar, many of whom are now working in the tourism industry, a business that didn’t exist when their parents were their age. Many Burmese people, both young and old, have acknowledged that as Myanmar opens itself up to the world, it is inevitable that change will happen. However, both have expressed sentiments that aim to preserve as much of their traditional culture as they can. As I walked around the plains of Bagan, meeting with locals and travelers alike, I asked myself, how will Myanmar look in 10 years? It was then, that I met a young Burmese girl, who introduced herself as Ma (younger sister in Burmese). She approached me, with a stack of foreign money in her hand, and asked me where I was from. I told her the United States, and she promptly spoke to me in English. Perfect English, not a word wrong, her accent was impeccable. She reminded me of a highly intelligent young girl in junior high. So what was she doing with a stack of money from all over the world?
“I can speak all of these languages” she told me.
Ma showed me her collection of money from all over the world, which she has used as a means of educating herself about culture outside of Myanmar, and to make a living.
“Every single one?” I looked at the stack, there were bills from all over the world. France, Brazil, England, Chile, China, everyone was accounted for.
I tried Spanish with her, she nailed it. French, again, perfect. Her Portuguese was good enough to get her a job in Rio. I couldn’t believe it. We walked for some time, and she told me how she learned so much.
Ma, like many Burmese youth, is proud of her heritage, and at the same time, excited to embrace new cultures from all over the world.
“Tourists are my teachers” she said with a smile. Ma has been a tour guide for 5 years, literally starting as soon as the borders opened. In that time, she has worked all around Bagan, hiking from one temple to the next, with a bag full of postcards, and foreign currency. From sunrise to sunset, this has been her life. As the tourists come in larger and larger numbers, Ma has seen more and more business. So, how is this influx of global culture affecting young people like Ma?
In a recent study published by Routledge, a publishing company that specializes in providing academic books and journals regarding humanities and social sciences, researchers went to Bagan, and conducted interviews with locals, who described the three biggest changes that they had seen since the opening of the borders. People of all ages agreed on three major areas; theconsumption of alcohol, the way thanaka (traditional make-up of the Burmese people) is wornand the perceived importance of marriage (Rich and Franck 334-44). Although, tourism in not alone to blame for these changes. Free access to the Internet has also helped foster a developing mindset in the minds of many young Burmese people, especially with regards to drinking alcohol, and relationships. According to the study, it is in conjunction with modern media formats that Burmese people have been exposed to and have assimilated new cultural identities.
A Burmese boy working in the tourism industry. The new generation of children are experiencing something that their elders never had, the chance to make money in a growing economy.
There are undoubtedly benefits to tourism, and most locals do agree that those benefits are very important to providing new opportunities for the next generation. Many young men and women are now able to afford luxuries that their parents could not have thought possible at their age, and many more are able to attend schools now. Whatever future these changes hold in store for Myanmar, it is important to learn from the successes and failures of nearby destinations like Thailand and Cambodia. Will Bagan’s Valley of a Thousand Temples someday have backpacker ghettos lined up across it’s plains? Will the environment suffer the way it has in some parts of Thailand? These questions are left to the people of Myanmar to manage, and to hopefully, resolve. Either way, it is a fascinating time to be young in Bagan ;a time when the new generation is setting out to define itself, and decide what direction it wants this new Myanmar to go.
Large tour busses are beginning to arrive in Bagan, bringing with them thousands of tourists every year.
The market in Bagan is always a good place to get great food, and meet some interesting locals.
Wandering around the ancient temples in Bagan, one is almost nervous of touching the walls.
Each temple offers something hidden inside of it’s walls, and no two are alike.
The valley stretches as far as the eye can see, with temples poking up from the horizon everywhere.
A statue of the Buddha hidden inside a large temple.
Tourists line up to see another one of Bagan’s many legendary temples.
A group of young Burmese schoolchildren on a field trip to Bagan.
Although there is indeed a huge influx of tourism, there are still places hidden away that can offer us a moment to reflect.
Myanmar, delicious, refreshing, and probably the only cold thing you’ll get on one of Bagan’s hottest days.
A glorious sunset from one of Bagans largest temples.
Source Citation:
Rich, Anna-Katharina, and Anja K. Franck. “Tourism Development in Bagan, Myanmar: Perceptions of Its Influences upon Young Peoples’ Cultural Identity.” Tourism Planning & Development 13.3 (2015): 333-50. Print.
For anyone interested in reading more about Myanmar, here are some interesting books to check out:
The River of Lost Footsteps, Thant Myint-U. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006.
Freedom from Fear, Kyi, Aung San Suu. London: Viking, 2009.
