Juxtaposed to this is modern day religion of European tourism on Djerba. After viewing the vestiges of the dwindling traditional culture and architecture we went off to take a peek at it. Increasingly, now instead of walls and berms to keep-out the invaders, longer stretches of the coast are being walled off from the interior by tourist resorts that sit cheek-to-jowl and keep out the locals. Most are only two and three stories high, so they barely show above the palm trees (not the 8 and 10 story monoliths of some resort destinations). Up near the road we could peek in on some of the diversion activities; light tennis courts (in high season it pretty hot to be playing tennis during the middle of the day), camel and pony rides and discos. Presumably the swimming pools that are advertised are closer to the beach.

One man who is making the most of the new comers is impresario "Ali Berbere" as he catches the tourist attention and pocket change at his one-man road side attraction.  His routine includes a witty patter, throwing a quick pot and demonstrates how Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves avoided detection by sliding into large amphora.  To my mind the more substantive and interesting of his offerings are overlooked by most of the visitor: Further back he has some old olive oil presses in his "cave" (or semi-subterranean building) and exhibits some other traditions Djerba culture and architecture.

Up a steep hill at the edge of town is the Musée Guellala (or Musée du Patrmonie as it is alternately known). The building is a model of the area’s architecture and is filled with a series of life-size dioramas depicting life in Djerba using manikins in native dress with explanations in four languages. It was done well and, even if the manikins are a bit cheesy for western tastes, they nevertheless get their points across. There are a whole series of scenes from a traditional wedding, a circumcision, a medicine man, and Sufi mystics to a live camel pulling another olive press and rooms full of calligraphy and paintings.

From here we headed northeast to Midoun where we stopped for a late lunch. A typical meal was chicken couscous with ojja merguez -- a very tasty as an appetizer -- and plenty of French bread to sop up the sauce.

From Midoun we headed northwest to Houmt Souq.  All day we bucked a headwind from some angle so the strong tailwind the last seventeen kilometers was much appreciated and we flew home. This last segment passed the island’s tourist district. The big hotels are elbowing each other along this entire stretch leaving little room for public beaches. Though it is not yet the high tourist season, we have saw many more tourists here then elsewhere. Taxis seem to be their main mode of transport around the island, and we saw plenty whenever we were near the tourist destinations.

Back to the outskirts of Houmt Souk you can view Borj Ghazi Musapha, the city’s thirteenth century fort and the scene of a grizzly massacre. Dragut, a compatriot of the Barbarossa brothers, captured the fort from the Spanish in 1560 and killed the garrison, making a gruesome pyramid of the skulls which stood as warning for three hundred years.