Tour guides Tunisia

5 Ideas for Guided Tours in Tunisia

• Tozeur

  

  Tozeur, tucked away in the south, doesn’t shout. But it stays with you. This oasis town—palm groves, clay-brick houses, gardens blooming where you’d least expect—feels timeless.

  Wander the old quarter. Narrow lanes twist between warm-toned walls, some crumbling, others carved with care. The carved wooden doors, half open sometimes, hint at life inside.

  Souks hum softly here. Colors, spices, hands reaching, voices haggling—not loud, but constant. Dar Cheraït Museum? A quiet gem. Textiles, ceramics, things made slowly.

  Then, the gardens—Acacia Park especially. Wide trees, a bit of breeze, maybe a bench in the shade. And beyond the town, the dunes take over. Tracks lead through sand to villages where time runs slower. People wave. Sometimes they offer tea, no questions asked.

  Scattered further, in silence: the Roman traces at Tisavar, the weathered fort of Chenini, the deep ochre walls of Ksar Ouled Soltane. All that, still standing.

• Hammamet

  

  They call it the “Pearl of the Sahel”, but Hammamet doesn’t show off. It simply unfolds. Sea on one side, whitewashed walls on the other.

  The medina? Compact, lively, and filled with textures—fabrics, wood, old stone. You drift through, eyes half on the shops, half on the patterns under your feet. It’s all a little uneven, which is part of the charm.

  Nearby, Villa Sebastian sits quietly behind green fences. Trees, shade, blooms—it’s less a garden than a moment of peace. The botanical park too, long paths under leafy roofs.

  A short walk, and suddenly you’re by Roman stones. The Pupput villa, perched toward the sea, feels strangely serene. Hammamet’s fortress rises not far—17th-century, still watching over everything.

  And yes, the beach. It goes on and on. Pale sand, gentle waves. Not much more to say—until you’re standing there, feet buried, salt in the air.

• Carthage

  

  About 15 kilometers from Tunis, Carthage spreads out quietly—less a city now, more a map of memory.

  With a guide, it changes. Stories begin to stitch themselves together: Phoenicians arriving by sea, Romans tearing it down, rebuilding on its bones.

  At Byrsa Hill, some columns still stand. Others have fallen sideways into the grass. Shrines, broken staircases, tiled floors with the colors still clinging on. Not far off, the Carthage Museum arranges relics in soft light—faces carved in stone, fragments of lives.

  Walk further and you’ll reach La Marsa. Boats rock in the marina. The streets—white facades, blue shutters—feel half-Spanish, half-silent.

  A bit beyond: Sidi Bou Said. Everyone takes the same photos there, but the view over the bay still catches your breath. Back in the archaeological park, the Antonine Baths stretch toward the sea, massive and exposed. And somewhere nearby, the empty amphitheater—no voices, but you can still imagine the crowd.

• Ichkeul National Park

  

  Some places are loud with silence. Ichkeul is one of them.

  Set near a lake in Tunisia’s northwest, this national park doesn’t try to impress. It simply exists. Marshland, reeds, soft hills—and birds. Thousands, coming and going. Flamingos. Storks. Grey wings rising from the water with no sound.

  UNESCO noticed, back in 1980. But on the trail, it’s just you and the wind in the trees. Paths split and rejoin, some hugging the lake, others climbing slowly into the hills. The light changes all the time.

  There are boat trips, too. Slow-moving. Good for watching the sky shift.

  And beneath all that, stone. The ruins of Thuburbo Majus, tucked into the landscape. Old temples, broken columns, parts of arches you recognize from somewhere but can’t quite place. Not grand. But still standing.

• The Island of Djerba

  

  Djerba stays with you in fragments. A sound here, a breeze there. It’s not loud—it lingers.

  In Houmt Souk, markets breathe quietly. The pace is soft, the rhythm human. You wander between stalls, pause to watch someone carve wood, maybe sip tea without planning to.

  Down in Guellala, hands shape clay like they’ve always done. There’s no rush. You might make something. Or just watch. That’s enough.

  For sea and sun, try Sidi Mahres beach. Or Ras El Rmal, where the sand stretches into the horizon like time has flattened it. Inland, Midoun offers sound and movement—fruit sellers calling out, bright fabrics, bits of music drifting across the plaza.

  Quiet again in Erriadh, where La Ghriba Synagogue stands with its pale blue tiles and silent prayer spaces. Not a tourist spot—something older.

  Then maybe the Fadhloun Mosque, simple and sun-bleached. Or Lalla Hadria Museum, where you walk slowly through rooms filled with stories you’re just beginning to understand.