The Road to Matmata

The journey began with an early departure from Djerba, a place where the sea whispers secrets to the wind. As we crossed the Jorf Strait, the landscape transformed into a tapestry of rocky tracks and abandoned villages. The Dhahar Massif loomed ahead, a silent guardian of the Berber secrets hidden within its folds. The air was thick with the scent of history, and I felt the familiar pull of the past, a siren call to an urban explorer like myself.

Our first stop was Tamezret, a Berber village perched on the peak of a mountain. The semi-troglodyte houses clung to the rocky slopes, their architecture a testament to the resilience of the people who called this place home. As I wandered through the narrow streets, the small white mosque stood as a beacon, offering an impressive view of the vast landscape stretching to the borders of the Eastern Erg. The village whispered stories of a time long past, and I listened, captivated by the echoes of history.

Matmata: A Lunar Landscape

Continuing south, we arrived at Matmata, a village renowned for its troglodyte dwellings. The landscape here was otherworldly, a lunar expanse dotted with the entrances to underground homes. The pit dwellings, carved into the earth, were a curious and unique testament to human ingenuity. As I stepped into one of these homes, I was enveloped by a sense of peace, a quietude that seemed to transcend time.

The rooms were cool and inviting, each with its own purpose. The kitchen, a hub of warmth and activity, the bathroom, a place of quiet reflection, and the storage vaults, guardians of the family’s treasures. Our hosts, with their gentle smiles and kind eyes, offered us tea and tabouna bread, a simple yet profound gesture of hospitality. As I sipped the fragrant tea, I felt a connection to the Berber culture, a thread that wove through the fabric of my own explorations.

The Echoes of Toujane

Our journey continued through the breathtaking scenery of the Dhahar heights to Toujane, a village nestled in the mountains. The trail of Zriba led us to a picturesque village, overlooked by an ancient citadel. The panorama from this vantage point was nothing short of spectacular, a sweeping view of the village below, a tapestry of life woven into the mountainside.

We descended into the village, where a traditional underground oil mill awaited. Here, the ancient traditions of olive oil production were alive and well, a living testament to the ingenuity and perseverance of the Berber people. As I watched the process unfold, I was reminded of the hidden gems I had uncovered in the forgotten corners of Eastern Europe, the stories of resilience and survival etched into the very fabric of the land.

The road trip to Matmata was more than just a journey through a landscape; it was a journey through time, a glimpse into a world where the past and present coexist in harmony. The troglodyte architecture and rich Berber culture left an indelible mark on my soul, a reminder of the beauty and mystery that lies in the forgotten corners of our world.