The domed roofs, white walls and blue decor that line the narrow lanes in Sidi Bou Said, Tunisia, could fool even the most seasoned of travelled. You see, the little town looks remarkably similar to Santorini in Greece.

To test the resemblance I shared a story on my Instagram with a photo of Sidi Bou Said. “Where am I?” I asked.

I gave four choices to choose from and here’s the results: 2% voted Italy, 9% voted Morocco and a whopping 72% voted for Greece. There were a few folks, 17% that spotted the Arabic writing or just knew that this place existed in Tunisia, but my point is, it really does look like a Greek island.

The crazy thing is it’s just 20km from the capital, Tunis. It’s also remarkably easy to get to as a train plies the route. Sadly the day my boyfriend Craig and I went there the train was under maintenance and a replacement bus picked us up.

The crowd of people waiting for the bus got a bit out of hand which meant when the bus pulled up there was chaos. People were fighting to get a space onboard. Luckily, I spent four months backpacking around India, so I’m well trained at navigating my way onto public transport. Using my elbows and determination to squeeze my way through the humans that are so tightly packed they appear to be moving as one giant, multi-headed unit.

I made it onboard and even managed to spot a free seat. Craig followed behind and stood next to me and then an old lady appeared by my side. I instantly went to give her my seat but she was insistent that I kept it. She seemed very appreciative that I offered though and reeled off some French to me. I looked at her blankly and said “no parlais francais” – ‘I don’t speak French’.

“Arabi?” She asked and while I don’t speak Arabic I know a couple of greeting words so I humoured her with my “Salam aleykum” – ‘May peace be upon you’.

I then showed off and said “la bes?” Which means how are you. She liked that one and beamed while responding “hamdalula.” That was as far as my Arabic went but she seemed ecstatic about it.

The bus set off, causing everyone to sway together, except for me, sat in my thrown.

Suddenly the old lady began stroking my hair. Most women in Tunisia cover their heads with a Hijab, and I think they mostly keep their hair long. I on the other hand have a short bob, once referred to as “small hair” by a Pakistani man I met. I figured she’d never felt short hair before, so just let her do her thing, but then she lent down and kissed me on the cheek.

I wasn’t really sure what to say back to that, so I just gave an awkward giggle and stared out the window the rest of the journey. It wasn’t how the French kiss cheeks to greet each other, where they actually just kiss the air beside their face, it was a full on kiss on my cheek.

I felt a little uncomfortable, but maybe it’s normal behaviour in Tunisia, it could be a sweet greeting or maybe she was treating me like family. I never found out but alas, as soon as we arrived at our bus stop I scurried off with Craig in tow.

Even on the edge of the village the place looked beautiful. Every building was painted white with blue doors and window shutters. Many had bay windows jutting out the walls but instead of big open glass windows they had wooden facades covering them.

We arrived mid-morning which meant it was delightfully quiet but the sun was glaring towards us. I guess if we came in the afternoon the sea would look a fabulous blue colour.

The next couple of hours were spent getting lost in the alleys, sitting in parks to soak up the Mediterranean views and searching for an elevated spot to see some of the domed roofs.

We popped into a museum which was a renovated Dar. They’re similar to the Riads in Morocco with a central court yard. This one was covered in fabulous tile work everywhere we looked.

Each room was fully furnished and decorated like in the olden days, with some rather creepy manakins helping to demonstrate what living in this grand house was like. It must’ve been about four stories high with tall ceilings in the rooms and a lovely white roof with blue pots.

Eating options in Sidi Bou Said were limited to expensive restaurants and a couple of street food stands. The latter is always our first choice so we both opted for a delicious wrap and enjoyed it while sitting on a wall above the sea.

They also had a stand selling Bambalouni, which were like giant doughnuts covered in granulated sugar. They were served fresh out the deep-fryer and the taste and smell reminded me of the doughnuts on Brighton pier, back home in England.

There was one very classic viewpoint, overlooking a beautiful open-air restaurant with blue doors and domed roofs. Sadly some renovation on the building next door meant it wasn’t as picture-perfect as it could be but it was still a lovely view.

We actually popped into the restaurant to enjoy a drink in the sun but it all felt like a scam. They didn’t have drink menus and instead we had to verbally ask the price. We still paid way over the odds for a thimble of bitter espresso but I later read reviews about tourists who were presented with a bill for around £30 for 3 cups of tea! Now it didn’t seem so bad paying £6 for two coffees, but it still kinda stung knowing they’re 50p each in a normal coffee shop.

We meandered our way down to the sea where there were a couple of beaches. It was sunny but rather fresh in January and not particularly appealing to go for a swim. Instead we dipped our toes in the chilly water and then sat in the sand for awhile, taking in the view and trying to figure out if the distant land we could see was Italy.