35° 18′ N 10° 43′ E
Who was “J. Monti”, I wondered, as I came up to the words and years carved into the ancient stone. There were two; one in 1914 and another in 1958, the second partially obscured by a subsequent patch of mortar. Of all of the carvings, why had I noticed these? What mysterious force had caused me to pause here?
I’ve always been fascinated by the North African coastline. So much history, so many ruins from across the ages. And with the magic of the Internet, it’s just a matter of making these journeys a priority. What’s more satisfying and lasting, that fine BMW in your garage, or a series of well illustrated and narrated journals of your travels?
Sitting at the café across from the colosseum that afternoon, my thoughts wandered to an earlier time, 1,800 years ago. With just a bit of effort, I could begin to imagine the glorious structure restored, with colorful fabrics shading her people, sounds of long horns calling the games to action. And the carvings…
J. Monti… Who was she? A nurse attached to some British expeditionary force in 1914? How old was she when she returned? 68? I imagined a young Lucy in a Room With a View, perhaps she’d received word that her Tunisian lover had died… Maybe they’d stolen away to this place under a moonless night, if only for a moment. He’d likely carved the first, and she the ones after, with her more delicate and older hands, though the numbers “one” and “nine” look identical.
But the constant flow of mopeds robbed me of this lovely daydream, rudely shaking me into the present moment.
“Monsieur, your lamb kebob.”
“Merci! Très bien. Parfait.”, I was desperate for lamb, having spent three of my teenage years living in Ankara, acquiring a taste for this.
With the recent unrest in Tunisia, western tourism had simply vanished leaving the entire place almost to myself. A couple of young, Asian tourists asking questions of the menu inside, but I was all alone under the umbrella outside. Perfectly delightful.
I should have insisted that my driver join me, but I could sense that this would have made him uncomfortable, so I demurred. Looking around at the contrast between old and new, a feeling of sadness came over me as I thought about man’s inability to simply enjoy this marvelous planet. Why must there always be conflict among us?
If only we could expunge the Seven Deadly Sins, perhaps then we may finally learn to get along.
Well, I’d enjoy this moment, this chance to simply soak into my day’s setting. “So long J. Monti, whoever you are.” Jasmine? Yes, she had to be a Jasmine.